When the sun rose the maiden looked forth and saw that his task was already half done. But still she waited. As the sun warmed the day and the youth worked on, the dewdrops of flesh stood all over his body and he cast away, one after the other, his blanket and sash and even his leggings and moccasins. Then he stopped to look around. By the side of the field grew tall yellow-tops. He ran into the thicket and rubbed every part of his body, yea, even the hair of his head and his ear-tips and nostrils, with the bark of the finger-root. Again he fell to work as though he had only been resting, and wondered why the mayflies and gnats and mosquitoes came not to cause him thoughts as they had the others. Yet still the girl lingered; but at last she went slowly to the room where the jar stood.
“It is absurd,” thought she, “that I should hope it or even care for it; it would indeed be great if it were well true that a young man should love me so verily as to hold his face to the front through such a testing.” Nevertheless, she drew the lid off and bade her strange children to spare him no more than they had the others.
All hasty to feast themselves on the “waters of life,” as our old grandfathers would say for blood, again they rushed out and hummed along over the cornfields in such numbers that they looked more like a wind-driven sandstorm than ever, and “tsi‑ni‑ni‑i, tso-no-o,” they hummed and buzzed about the ears of the young man when they came to him, so noisily that the poor fellow, who kept at work all the while, thought they were already biting him. But it was only fancy, for the first mayfly that did bite him danced in the air with disgust and exclaimed to his companions, “Sho‑o‑o‑m‑m!” and “Us-á!” which meant that he had eaten something nasty, that tasted as badly as vile odors smell. So not another mayfly in the throng would bite, although they all kept singing their song about his ears. And to this day mayflies are careful whom they bite, and dance a long time in the air before they do it.
Then a gnat tried it and gasped, “Weh!” which meant that his stomach had turned over, and he had such a sick headache that he reeled round and round in the air, and for that reason gnats always bite very quickly, for fear their stomachs will turn over, and they will reel and reel round and round in the air before doing it.
Finally, long-beak himself tried it, and, as long-beak hangs on, you know, longer than most other little beasts, he kept hold until his two hindlegs were warped out of shape; but at last he had to let go, too, and flew straight away, crying, “Yá kotchi!” which meant that something bitter had burned his snout. Now, for these reasons mosquitoes always have bent-up hindlegs, which they keep lifting up and down while biting, as though they were standing on something hot, and they are apt to sing and smell around very cautiously before spearing us, and they fly straight away, you will notice, as soon as they are done.
Now, when the rest of the gnats and mosquitoes heard the words of their elder brothers, they did as the mayflies had done—did not venture, no, not one of them, to bite the young lover. They all flew away and settled down on the yellow-tops, where they had a council, and decided to go and find some prairie-dogs to bite. Therefore you will almost always find mayflies, gnats, and mosquitoes around prairie-dog holes in summer time when the corn is growing.
So the young man breathed easily as he hoed hard to finish his task ere the noonday, and when the maiden looked down and saw that he still labored there, she said to herself: “Ah, indeed he must love me, for still he is there! Well, it may be, for only a little longer and they will leave him in peace.” Hastily she placed venison in the cooking-pot and prepared fresh héwe and sweetened bread, “for maybe,” she still thought, “and then I will have it ready for him.”
Now, alas! you do not know that this good and beautiful maiden had a sister, alas!—a sister as beautiful as herself, but bad and double-hearted; and you know when people have double hearts they are wizards or witches, and have double tongues and paired thoughts—such a sister elder had the maiden of Mátsaki, alas!
When the sun had climbed almost to the middle of the sky, the maiden, still doubtful, looked down once more. He was there, and was working among the last hills of corn.
“Ah, truly indeed he loves me,” she thought, and she hastened to put on her necklaces and bracelets of shells, her earrings as long as your fingers—of turquoises—and her fine cotton mantles with borders of stitched butterflies of summerland, and flowers of the autumn. Then she took a new bowl from the stick-rack in the corner, and a large many-colored tray that she had woven herself, and she filled the one with meat broth, and the other with the héwe and sweetbread, and placing the bowl of meat broth on her head, she took the tray of héwe in her hand, and started down toward the cornfield by the riverside to meet her lover and to thank him.
Witches are always jealous of the happiness and good fortune of others. So was the sister of the beautiful maiden jealous when she
