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And of those things that lay there in a pile, “Is it on these things that 
you rely?” he asked her, and touched her tools one after another with 
the stick. When then, one after another, they fell to pieces, that little 
girl had nothing left her; all the things on which she relied had been 
destroyed. 
“Well, now I shall hunt your lice. If I find one, then I shall be per- 
mitted to take your daughters home with me,” he said to her. 
“Very well,” said the little girl. 
When he looked at her, all over her face were lice; then, at the very 
moment when she sought to lower her head, already her head had been 
touched with the stick; her lice had no time to disappear. Without 
mercy he smashed the lice against the stony ground with his long stick. 
After a while he turned her head to the other side; wherever he looked, 
it was full of lice. Then suddenly some lice came and settled on Him Who 
Had the Saskatoon Stick. At that he pointed his stick toward the blazing 
fire. A flame leaped up on the stick, and the lice that had settled on him 
were there on the stick, roasting until their bellies burst with a pop. While 
he was doing all this, in time that young man arrived, and at once saw to 
his surprise how his mother’s lice were being hunted down. 
“Hey, on what errand were you off, while your brother-in-law here 
was destroying my tools to the very last one?” she called to him. 
The son wore a little flute round his neck; the flute was tied with a 
small hide thong with the fur turned out; and a small piece of iron he 
wore across his shoulder. 
Then, “Why, mother, too greatly are you wasting your lice. It 
happens that even if we are not defeated, you are to give them up. For I 
have been called here to be present at the blessing of mortal man, that I 
too may give him mystic knowledge; and that is why I was so slow about 
coming home. You have gone too far in your evil pursuits, mother,” 
her son said to her. 
He was a pot-bellied child and went naked; Pot-Belly Child was he; 
he was Lousy One’s son. 
“Now then, brother-in-law, now is my turn!” he said. 
Then the lice ceased coming down. Then he took the little thong 
with the fur on it. Then he arrived who had been killed by the dog. 
“Ho, elder brother, stay far behind my back!” 
He flung the thing like this. 
“If you catch this on the fly, you have won it from me!” he told him. 
Though he tried to hit it in the air with his stick, in the form it had 
taken of a white butterfly, yet from moment to moment he could not see 
it, and then again, suddenly right close there it would be in the air. 
“He will surely defeat me!” he thought. 
Then presently he rubbed the white part of his stick; it was white. 
As the thing flew past, he held it in front of it. There the butterfly clung 
to it. He took it into his hand. He took the thing, now lifeless; he laid 
it down carelessly. 
“Now try this!” the other said to him. 
He untied the little piece of iron; over yonder Pot-Belly Child threw 
it; it was a huge round block of iron. 
“If you can handle this, you have won it from me!” he told him. 
