Once, long ago there was an Indian tribe with a princess, Rising Moon. There were two braves who loved her, Running Bear and Falling Rocks. For over a year she dithered about which she preferred and as you can imagine things were getting pretty intense between the two rivals.
Finally, her father’d had enough. “Since she cannot make up her mind,” he said, “I shall decide for her: The brave who can provide for her best shall have her hand. You, Running Bear go that way and you, Falling Rocks, go that way. Tonight is the full moon. Whoever returns by the next full moon with the most meat and hides shall marry my Rising Moon.”
Off they went and for a month the whole tribe waited to see who would be the winner. Two days early Running Bear returned and his pack pony had an enormous bundle of pemmican, jerky, furs and hides on its back. “You almost surely will be the winner,” the chief said, “But we must wait until Falling Rocks returns.”
The two days went by and Falling Rocks did not appear. They waited another two just to be sure and still no Falling Rocks. Running Bear was declared the winner, they wed, and had a reasonably happy life together. But what of Falling Rocks?
Scouts were sent out, not only in the direction he had gone but every point on the compass. Months went by, then years of searching but no trace of the missing brave was found. Disheartened the tribe gave up its active search but they never gave up hope. To this day throughout the west you will see signs they have erected by the side of the road:
WATCH OUT FOR FALLING ROCKS