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* * * He did not even go in, so shamed was that youth. He was deeply 
grieved. For they kept their sister very carefully; * * ♦ ♦ * ♦ 
«»<**** * * When the next one arrived, as soon as he saw 
her, he turned back. All those young men left her, because she had too 
much shamed them by what she had done. When dawn had almost come, 
the young woman bore her child. Then she stayed there; she had with 
her only her little brother, that boy. 
When they had been alone twelve days and nights, she spoke to him as 
follows; for that woman’s child was a boy: “Take care of your nephew; I 
am going to gather wood,” she told her little brother. 
She took from him all his clothes; she hung them up high, out of his 
reach, for, “I shall try to go away,” that young woman must have been 
thinking. 
So, when she came to the grove of trees, she fastened her sleeve to a 
tree; she placed an ax there; she made an effigy of a human being. 
“When that boy who is here says to you, ‘Sister!’ then, ‘Yes!’ you will 
say to him,” she told that effigy. 
And so in this wise she abandoned her child which not long before she 
had borne. Then presently, when for a long time he had rocked the babe, 
it began to cry. The boy called. 
“Sister, my nephew is crying!” he .called. 
“Wait a bit! I am in the midst of gathering wood!” he was answered 
by that effigy which had been made. 
At last darkness came. In time they were almost freezing. They 
wept, he and the babe with which he had been abandoned. When the 
fourth night had passed, suddenly the Thunderer’s loud roar was heard. 
Suddenly, there he sat. 
“Truly, you are in a sorry plight, my brother-in-law,” the Thunderer 
said to him; “Your sister by this time has taken another husband,” the 
Thunderer told him; “But I have come to fetch this your nephew. In any 
case you would not be able to take care of him,” he told him. 
Then that Thunderer took down for him his clothes which had been 
hung high. As soon as he had put them on, the other took away that 
infant. He too went forth. When he had taken up his snowshoes, he saw 
the way along which his sister must have departed. He ran on, all day. 
Presently, towards evening, there in a hollow of the land, he spied a grass 
hut. He approached it. 
“There, this must be my sister’s dwelling!” he said. 
He went inside. He built up the fire. When he had built up the fire, 
he lay there. As he looked about him, presently, there he saw his sister’s 
breast, which she must have cut off. 
“Alas, truly she brings me to grief!” he thought; “Now with this I 
could have consoled my nephew that has been taken from me!” he thought. 
Then there he spent the night. In the morning he set out again. Along 
the path that his sister had taken from there, he tracked her all the day. 
Again, towards evening, he saw another little lodge of grass. He entered 
it. He fed the fire. Again, as he lay there, he saw his sister’s other breast. 
Again he lamented that his nephew had been fetched away. He set out 
in the morning. Presently, as he went on, he came out upon a place where 
was a lodge, and there he saw his sister tanning a hide. At once he called 
to her. 
