here the paths parted.
"You are looking for the way," said Jupka. "If you see a narrow little trail, that is it."
He found that trail at last. "That is the right way," said the uncle.
It was so narrow that Juiwaiyu, was barely able to see it. He went forward easily; went fast, like a man who is running down hill. They came to the small mountain, and when Juiwaiyu was above it, he heard laughing at a distant village. "That must be the place to which we are going," said he.
"My nephew, look out now, be careful. When you go into Damhauja's sweat-house and sit with his daughters, he will give you a pipe filled with crushed bones of people instead of tobacco. If you breathe smoke from that pipe, you will die the next moment. With this smoke he has killed those who escaped lice and wind from the mountain."
Juiwaiyu, rested a while, and thought of the beads he had lost. "I wish my beads would return to me," said he. That moment the beads were on his neck. They were as beautiful as ever.
"My beads, you must not go again from me. You must stay with me, and you must be in plenty. Pahnino Marimi, I wish you to send your daughters for leaves, wood, and water. Be kind when I come
to you. Do not kill me. Let us go on," said he to his uncle.
They went forward, and soon they saw two girls, one holding the other by the hand. These girls were coming toward the mountain, swaying their hands and singing. Juiwaiyu came to the ground, hid behind a tree, and said, "Let there be wood here in plenty, wood for these women." The wood was right there in one moment.
The two girls set down their baskets and filled them. "I wish that man would come," said one sister to the other, "the man we dreamed of last night."
They put down their hands to take the baskets. Juiwaiyu caught their hands. They looked around, saw him, and were frightened.
"Why are you frightened? I dreamed of you last night, you dreamed of me. Go, home, go ahead, hurry forward, I will follow; I will be at your father's house soon."
They put the baskets on their backs, ran quickly, 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 se