The bowl flew up into the air and fell on the ground, and the girl gathered up the food that had fallen and went out crying. Meanwhile the rest of the girls were waiting in the entrance, holding their bowls. One by one they went in to him, but it did them no good. They did the same thing, and at last he had thrown back the bowls of every one of them. They went out crying, and it ended by their going back to their house. Thought the young man, “It makes my head ache to have them act this way. If I were going to marry them, wouldn’t I have married them already?” The men that were in the kashime went out one by one, and at length he was left alone; and then he left too, and went to his parents” house. He went to see his mother; and when he entered the house, he looked, and there were all the buckets and bowls filled with water. Everything was full. It was those girls, who had been bringing water for the young man’s mother. They were so anxious to have her give him to them, that they were ready to do anything for her. He spoke to his mother, and asked her for some water. “There is some,” said she, “out there on the floor. Help yourself.” He went over to get it. “Who brought, this?” said he. “Oh, your little cousins over there brought it for me,” said she. “What did you ask them to do that for?” said he. “I don’t want any of their water. Tell them not to get any more for you.” Then he took the water and threw it over the bank, bowls and all. “Where is the water that you brought?” said he. “There it is, over there,” said she. “Are you sure that this is what you brought?” said he. “That’s what I got today with a good deal of trouble,” said she. So he drank the water; and she gave him some food, and he ate it. “Don’t you think,” said his mother — “Say, why don’t you — Don’t you think it would be a good thing for you to get somebody to help me? You can see that I am getting rather poorly.” “What are you bothering me for?” said he. “I shall do just as I think best. You make me tired.”

So he left the house and went into the kashime, and went to bed. In the early morning he woke up and put on his things to go after deer. He killed a deer, and came back and went into his mother’s house, and she gave him something to eat; and afterward he went into the kashime again, and sat down in his own place. Over in their own house the girls washed their hair and put on their best clothes, and put some food into bowls and went over to the kashime to see the young man. Then one of them went in, and crossed over and stood in front of him with her bowl; and he snatched it away and threw it back at her. She put the food back into the bowl, crying. The rest of them did the same thing. Every one of them went in to him. They went out without his having taken the bowl from any of them. “I don’t like to have them do as they are doing to me,” said he as they went out.

In the course of time the summer came around, and it looked as though the salmon-run was about to begin; and the young man took his canoe and went off for fishtrap material. He put off southward, and paddled a day’s journey down the river. He kept looking toward the shore. He looked, and there was a big drift-log lying in the edge of the water. It was cracked. He got out and went to it, and cut it off with his stone axe, and began to split it. He halved it and began to split up one of the sides, and then took a rest. Then he happened to look toward the root, and there were two masks hanging on it, — two good-for-nothing-looking little masks. Thought the young fellow, “How did those things come to be there?” He went to them; and when he reached them, he put out his hand to take them, when all at once the root vanished.

Then he felt a strong desire to go up the bank, and up he went. And as he was going, lo! down at his feet he saw a path, and this he followed. Back from the river stood a wretched little house. He went towards it and reached the door. Lo! hanging there on each side of the door were those masks, the same that had been hanging on the root down at the river. There they hung on each side of the door. They were the very same that he had seen down below. “Suppose I go inside,” thought he, and he went to go in. He stepped inside, although it was a wretchedly poor house. As he entered, he looked across the room. There was some one scowling at him. He looked across in another direction. There was some one growling at him. Two ragged, dried-up women were there. They were clothed in filthy dog-skins. Their mittens and their boots and their parkas were all made of dog-skin. They wore no fur at all. There was nothing whatever in the house but filth. There was not even clothing”. He went to the back of the room and sat down. There was not even a bowl. “What a miserable place I have gotten into!” he thought. Then from the front corners of the room they spoke to him. “What’s he doing over there?” they said. “It was because of our willing it, that you came to us,” said they. Now you sha’n’t get away from us.” Then they took off the curtain from the smokehole, and made a fire. After that they put a piece of a pot by the side of the fire and put something into it; and after they had done their cooking, they put on the curtain and began to eat. They put some food on a ladle and tossed it to him. “Eat that!” they said. “I don’t believe I want anything to eat,” said he. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind eating what is worse than you are yourselves. What kind of food do you eat, then?” said one of them. “Well, my mother did not bring me up on such stuff as that,” said he. Now, the mess of salmon tails and fins that they had cooked was full of filth and dirt; so he thought, “I might just as well die here.” They said nothing more to him, and he sat still where he was.

After a while the women made ready for the night. They made all their preparations; and one of them picked up her bed and took it over and placed it by the side of the other one. “Come,” said they, “come over here by us!” “I’m not going over by you,” said he. Then all at once they rushed at him and caught him, and threw him down in their place. They tickled him, and he began to scream. When they had finished, he was in pain from the scratching that they had given him; but he got to sleep. So he slept, and at length he awoke. It had been light for a long time, and the women were gone. He tried to get out of the house, but could not. The doorway leading to the outside was closed up. He tried with all his might to push out, but could not. The hole overhead was closed, too. At last he gave it up and sat down. He looked back into the dark corners of the room, and saw quantities of human bones. “This was what my mother warned me about,” thought he. “Well, I’ve done it. I had my own way, and wouldn’t listen to advice.” There he remained until it began to grow dark, and then from the outside there was a sound as though some one had let fall the butt of a tree. The earth shook, and soon afterward the door opened. You see they had put a big root against the door. The two women came in, and, sure enough, both of them were carrying salmon-tails. They made a fire and boiled the tails, and then they threw him some more of the stuff upon a ladle. “Do I eat such stuff as that,” said he, “that you treat me so?” “Is there anything such as you fancy for you to eat?” said they. He sat still without eating, “it will be long enough before the one that talks that way gets anything to eat,” said they. “Did I tell you that I was hungry, that you offered me something to eat?” said he.

After a while they got ready for bed; and, just as they had done the day before, they threw him down in their place, and tickled him again. When they had got through, he was covered with blood. So he woke up the next day, but there was no getting out. Already the door and the window were closed. SQ he spent the day there. Three days he spent there without anything to eat or drink. There he was all day, when the root that covered the smoke-hole slid aside, and a stunningly pretty woman in a fine marten-skin parka put her face down inside the hole. “Is your breath in you still?” said she. “Yes,” said he. “I thought perhaps it was all over,” said she. “You ate their food, perhaps?” — “No,” said he. “Well, if you had eaten their food, you would not have been seen on the earth again,” said she. “It was because they did not like the idea of giving you up, that they kept you four days; and it is because I do not like the idea of giving you up, that I have told you about it.” Then she reached down a little bowl with some water in it. “Here,” said she, “drink this!” Then she took it back, and reached him down a little slice of meat and a little fat. “Here,” said she, “refresh yourself with this! Now, when they come back, if they ask you whether you have been talking with anybody, tell them that there is no one but rats in the house to talk with. Tell them like this, too. Tell them that when you and your little sister used to go around the edge of Ti’gutruxa’n’no’, you used to get ripe dewberries. Now it’s time for them to come, and I am going.” Then she threw down the big root upon the hole, and turned away and vanished.

He waited there, and by and by the ground shook, and the two came in. There they were, with their salmon tails. “It looks as though some one had been talking with you and telling you something,” said they. “Why should I have any talking to do,” said he, “that you say that to me? What is there for me to talk about when I am all alone?” “It looks as though you had been talking, though,” said they. “Well, then, you blatherskites, all I said was for you to let me alone.” “Ah!” said they. Then they took off the curtain and made the fire, and put the pot to boil. Afterward they covered up the smoke-hole and began to eat. They tossed him some food on a ladle. “I’m not going to eat,” said the young man. By and by he said, “Whenever I used to go around Ti’gutruxa’n’no’ with my little sister, we used to get ripe dewberries.” “How did he find out what you are talking about?” said they.

Those women were angry. They got ready for bed, and they almost killed the young man. His body was all covered with blood. So then he went to sleep. He slept; and when he woke up, they were gone. Now, they say, he was all bones. He arose, but he had no strength. There he staid that day; and by and by there was a jarring-sound overhead, and at the great root that covered the hole a woman put her face down, the same one who had appeared the day before. “Is your life in you yet?” said she. “Yes,” said he. “Well,” said she, “when they bring you the dewberries, eat them, and afterwards say this: ‘These Ti’gutruxa’n’no’ berries that I am eating, I wish I could have some more of them tomorrow evening.’ They will barely spare you one night, and the next day at evening they will kill you.” So then she reached him down the little bowl of water, and a little meat and fat. “That is the way that they always do,” said she. “They always catch men and kill them. Some they spare a couple of days. It was because they did not like to give you up, that they kept you four days. I must go,” said she, and she disappeared.

There he remained; and when it grew dark, the two women came back. When they came in, each was carrying a bowl. Again they did their cooking, and afterwards they put on the curtain and began to eat. Then they took the berries over and gave them to him, and he ate them. When he had finished, he gave them back the bowl. “I tell you,” said he, “I wish that I could have some of the Ti’gutruxa’n’no’ whitefish to eat tomorrow evening! If I had, I could get to sleep.” It made them angry because he said that, and they jerked their shoulders. So they got ready for bed, and they nearly killed him. He slept and woke up, and they were gone. There he remained that day, and he heard -a noise overhead. It was the same woman. “It is a sure thing that they are going to kill you this evening,” said she. “I am going to save you, because I am sorry for you. Am I doing it to you for any one else? It is for my own sake that I am doing it to you. Come,” said she, “hurry!” At that he climbed up to her, and she took hold of him and pulled him out. Then she took him by the waist and whirled around with him; and he lost his senses, as if he had fallen asleep.

Now he hears something. He hears something, and it seems to him as if he had made a leap and landed somewhere. When he could see, the sun was shining. He looked around. What a quantity of meat he saw! That woman came over to him. There was a pond, with many villages at its end. They came to the woman’s village. There they saw a medium-sized baidara turned upsidedown. She undressed and bathed him, and put on him a change of clothing.

Now, at dusk, they say, those two creatures came home. They entered, and looked for him, but he was gone. Then they began to search for him. “You ought to have staid with him,” they said to each other. Each one said that the other should have staid. They began to cry and scream. They did not finish fighting until both were covered with blood, because they wanted the man so badly. One of them started southward, and the other northward, looking for him. They made this agreement. “You shall sleep twice, and I will also sleep twice -, and then, if we find him, we shall meet on the same day.” Thus they said to each other. So the one who spoke turned to go, and the other one also, and they were gone.

It had been agreed at last that it was to be four nights before they were to meet. Then the day arrived when they were to meet, and they stood face to face, and came to themselves. “He is “gone,” they said to each other. Again they began to fight and drag each other around by the hair. “Come, let us look for him again!” they said to each other. One said, “I will look for him down in the earth.” The other said, “I will look for him up in the sky. Let it be four days again; and if he is still lost on the fifth day, we will meet again,” they said to each other. So one was lost to view in the earth, and the other in the sky.

At last the four days were gone that they were to be away; and on the day when they had agreed to meet, they came home. Still they could not find him. So then each (?) one of them went looking for him, back from the river. As one of them was going along, she came to a pond. Right there was a medium-sized baidara turned bottom-up. She broke into a run and set up a scream. “Even though they lived a long way off, they are the ones that we have been hunting for very hard, the ones we have been looking for,” said she. So the two went toward the house. They reached it, and said, “What did you take our husband away from us for?” and they began to fight with the woman. When they had begun to fight, she banged them together. Then they began to fight with each other of their own accord. They came to their senses a little, and there they were fighting together of their own accord; while the man and woman were laughing instead of fighting, because they were such a funny sight. At last the woman became angry and killed them, and put them into the fire; and there that couple lived, summer and winter.

So, then, at last that is fenced off.

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