A long time ago, Coyote was traveling about. He came where a small brown bird was feathering arrows. He was putting feathers on the trunk
of a whole pine tree that stood there. "That arrow will not kill anything. Let me see it," said Coyote. "Shoot me with it." They shot him with it. He ran away from them and everybody ran after him. Finally, Coyote was tired out. The arrow had passed through him carrying away all of his body except a rim of hair. "The hair on my back must have blown off," Coyote said.
233:4 Kroeber, (a), p. 69; Dorsey and Kroeber, p. 54.