Coyote said: "You grumbled over the darkness. Now I have given you light. We will call this light the sun. Henceforth no animal shall bump into his brother, and you will no longer suffer from bruises."
Turning to Hawk, Coyote continued: "You have done well, Sister Hawk. Let us do more. Let us make another sun so that this sun can rest sometimes."
"All right," answered Hawk.
Coyote ran to the swamp and hastily gathered an armful of tules. He took a piece of flint for a center and wound the tules into a ball. Then he sped back to Hawk.
"You need not fly so high this time, Sister Hawk, but take it far enough away from the world so that it will not burn us."
"Very well," answered Hawk; and she flew and flew, straight up, until she was tired. Then she rested a moment. As she cast the ball from her, she murmured, "Give us light, O Tules. Deliver us from darkness, O Flint."
Now Coyote had hurried so at the swamp the second time that he gathered damp tules. Therefore this second ball did not give out a bright golden light as the other did, but sent down pale silver rays.
