kly, reached home soon, threw down the baskets outside the doorway, and rushed into the sweat-house.
"What are you scared at, my daughters? You saw some young man in the woods, I think," said Pahnino, their mother, who was making acorn bread outside the doorway. "I think that some brother-in-law was watching you near the mountain."
"You have never seen the man we met," said the sisters.
Pahnino went to look; she looked carefully, but saw no man coming toward her from any side.
[paragraph continues] The two sisters spread a black bearskin and sat on it, sat near each other and waited. The old man went out to look, put his hand over his eyes to see a new son-in-law, but could see no one. Juiwaiyu was on the house now; he went down through the central pillar, passed through the ground, and came up between Damhauja's two daughters. Pahnino Marimi walked in at that moment to scold her daughters. She looked, and saw Juiwaiyu between them.
"Some one is sitting with our daughters," said she to the old man.
Damhauja went for his pipe, put in crushed bones of Mapchemaina, and handed the pipe to his daughters.
"Give this to my son-in-law," said he.
They did not like to take the pipe, but they could not refuse their father, they could not help themselves. They were crying.
"You must not smoke this," whispered they; "we will give you another kind." They took the tobacco out and put in some of the common sort. The old man did not watch sharply at first; he was thinking only to see Juiwaiyu drop dead. The girls handed back the empty pipe to their father.
Jupka, who was sitting on his nephew's head, laughed in his own mind.
"I don't know what sort of man this is," thought Damhauja; "I have never seen such a person. I think he must have come to fight with me; I will try him once more."
He filled the pipe a second time, and gave it to
his daughters. They handed it to Juiwaiyu. This time they could not change the tobacco. Damhauja was watching too carefully. Jupka smoked this pipe. No smoke could hurt him. Damhauja, who hoped to see Juiwaiyu fall dead, became frightened when he saw him as well as ever.
"What am I to do?" thought he. "I give this tobacco to every man who comes for my daughters, and every man who smokes dies right away. I am afraid of my new son-in-law. I will not fight with this man. Let my other sons-in-law try him. My daughters, I want you to give nice food to your husband; give him good things to eat, take the best care of him, treat him well. My boys, I want you to bring plenty of nice food to my son-in-law."
"I will give venison now to these sisters," thought Jupka; and he took out a small piece of fat venison as large as a walnut. This he gave to Juiwaiyu, and told him to ask for a large basket. They brought it.
"You, venison, keep this size," said Juiwaiyu, "be no smaller, you must not be gone;" and then he cut slices.
Damhauja carried off three great baskets of meat, then went out on the house-top and called all his sons.
"Come for venison, my sons," said he. "There is plenty for all of you."
Damhauja had a great many sons-in-law on the west beyond a river. All his daughters were married except two. These sons-in-law heard him call and wondered. "What has happened?" asked
they of one another. "We've never heard the old man talk that way before. He must have found a new son-in-law; he must have found a husband for Halaia and Pahnino Marimi."
All Damhauja's sons came into the sweat-house.
Kechowala, a son-in-law and chief on the west side, sent his two sons, Kechowala and Darijua, to see what was happening at the sweat-house.
When the boys came and looked in, the elder saw a man, he thought, but did not know him, Damhauja's sons were dancing a fire-dance. The two brothers looked around carefully, but the younger did not see the strange man. They ran down from the sweat-house, and on the way home began to quarrel.
"I think our grandfather has a new son-in-law; I saw him," said Kechowala, the elder.
"You did not," said the younger.
"Why do you try to hide him, why do you deny? I saw him surely."
"When we get home, you w