213 
Then, “Hey, truly my son-in-law is driving me into a rage! My dog, 
come here!” she called to her dog. “Here, my dog, eat these!” she called 
to it. 
As soon as the dog had touched them with its snout, they were like 
meat, and quickly it devoured them. 
“Be off, my dog, go home! I am going off to club my son-in-law who 
has just now left!” 
She pursued him; she had only her ax in her hand. When she was 
close upon him, he threw an awl behind him. 
“Here let great thornberry-trees grow forth!” said the youth. 
Behind him, what numbers of great thornberry-trees! When she 
reached them, though she hewed at them and split them with her ax, and 
pulled them up, yet she could not get through, could not make an opening 
through them. She hallooed for her dog. Truly, it came. 
“Now, my dog, eat these!” she told it. 
Again it went eating, this time the thornberry-trees. These too it 
ate up. 
“Be off, go home, my dog!” she cried. 
The dog went back home. The Lousy Little Girl went in pursuit. 
Again she was carrying her ax. When she was close at his heels, he flung 
up into the air the stone his grandmother had given him. 
“Here is a place of rocky mountains! Underneath there I shall be!” 
he cried. 
Then, though she tried to smash those rocks with her ax, at last she 
wore out every one of her tools. 
“Ho, my dog, come here!” she cried, shouting. 
Truly, quickly it came there. 
“My dog, go kill the one that lies down yonder below!” she told it. 
Then that dog went eating the rock. At last it reached him. 
“Do not tear him to pieces, my dog! Only strangle him!” 
So it did. It killed him. 
Then that lazy man off yonder, this one’s younger brother, was all 
alone with his sister, for it seems that his brother-in-law had gone away. 
He had a saskatoon stick which was as long as he was tall, with all kinds 
of designs on it. At the tip a feather was fastened. Only this he took. 
His sister was sitting there, moodily, longing for her absent brother. 
“Now, sister,” he said, “suppose I go look for my brother!” he said; 
“And when this thing ceases to sway as it hangs, then, ‘Now it appears 
that my brother has gone to destruction,’ you will think,” he said, and 
went out of the tent, after setting his quiver a-swinging by a push of his 
hand. 
It kept swaying as it hung. He went away. He held the saskatoon, 
stick in his hand. As soon as he had left, he went with great speed. Then 
really, he reached his elder brother, where he lay dead. He stroked him, 
like this, with that feather, with that stick of his. 
“Brother, arise!” he said to him. 
He arose. So he really came back to life, when he had been stroked 
with the stick. He went with his elder brother. He went there. 
When he arrived, “Now then, elder brother, tomorrow do you come 
here,” he told him. 
