Hearing that a great chief holds the sun, moon, and stars captive, Raven determines to release them. Reborn as the chief's grandson, he whines, cajoles, and throws tantrums until the indulgent old man hands over the heavenly bodies. After escaping through a sooty smoke-hole with the sun, Raven's feathers are permanently black. Watts's paintings, with the enthroned chief clad in heavy Chilkat ceremonial robes and surrounded by carved boxes and other evidence of wealth, are at odds with Dixon's light touch. The powerful, stylized animal motifs of Northwest Coastal art, seen by bright firelight, seem an integral part of the vibrantly colored natural world--more so than the clownish human figures, which add little to the story save some exaggerated gestures and grimaces. The chief accepts his loss so benignly that readers may wonder why Raven didn't just ask, instead of going to all that trouble.