187 
Then really she did so; when her husband had gone away, she too 
would walk about, digging wild turnips. When she brought them home 
in the evening, after peeling them, she would put them down where her 
father-in-law sat. The old man would take them up and give thanks. 
“Always, you must know, I have longed for the like of these, for very 
seldom am I given them to eat,” he would say. 
At sunset, when her husband came into the lodge, she would give him 
food, and they would eat wild turnips and berry stew, nothing else. 
Then at times, when night had come, the old man would say, “Now, 
my son, burn some incense!” and the door of the young man’s lodge wou.d 
be opened, and red flannel, and sometimes black cloth, sometimes muslin, 
together with dishes of berry stew, would be projected into his lodge, 
and the young man would take them up. 
In time the woman knew that she was going to have a child. 
“Well, now never walk about; let us hope that we may without mis- 
hap have sight of this child,” her husband told her. 
Then really she stayed in one place; no longer now did that woman 
dig roots; for her husband had forbidden it. Really, in due time, she felt 
the need of having sight of her child, for she grew ill, being about to see 
her child. In the night they saw it, she and her husband, who was caring 
for her. It turned out to be a boy. Then she was well. Now, they had, oh, 
many clothes; for the woman did not lack whatever she would use in 
caring for that child of hers; for rich was that old man. The old man was 
very glad to have a grandchild and even tended the child himself, so glad 
was he to have a grandson, and the woman only now and then took care 
of the child, walking about, taking the child about, for she was mostly sad 
at heart because she never saw any other people. 
Then at one time, when her son had grown larger and was already 
walking a bit, then at one time, when her husband, as always, had gone 
forth early in the morning, she too went out, mounting at random over 
the crests of the hills. Presently she saw a little lodge. She went there. 
When she came to it, “Come in, my grandchild!” said an old woman. 
She entered. 
“Goodness me, and so here is my grandmother living here, and I 
lonesome and sad all the while!” she said to her; “Long ago, if I had 
known that you were living here, I should have been coming to see you, 
lonesome and sad as I have been all the while,” she said to her. 
“Dear me, grandchild, and do you know what place this is where you 
are?” 
“No,” she answered her. 
“And down there on the earth below, did you know who he was whom 
you have married?” the other asked her. 
“No,” she answered her. 
“That which you as a mortal call ‘Sun,’ even such is he. This is the 
very reason why all of each day he is away from home; because he is 
taking care of the earth, shedding in his course the bright light of day 
upon the mortal men below. It is they, your kinsfolk, who ever from time 
to time are sending into his lodge cookings of berries, and clothing, gifts 
which your husband and his family receive,” the other told her. 
“Alas, grandmother mine, will you be able to bring me back?” 
