“Come, brother, my arrows are gone,” said the younger brother. “Quick! put on the water-shield, and let us be off!” Now, the people were gaining on them faster and faster, but Áhaiyúta threw water like thick rain from his shield strapped over his back, so that the enemies’ bowstrings loosened, and they had to stop to tighten them again and again.
Whenever the Háwikuhkwe pressed them too closely, the water-shield sprinkled them so thoroughly that when they nocked an arrow the sinew bowstring stretched like gum, and all they could do was to stop and tighten their bowstrings again. Thus the boys were able to near the home of their grandfather, the big Turtle, now and then shooting at the leaders with their warring arrows and rarely missing their marks.
But as they came near, the people were gathering more and more thickly in their rear, so that Mátsailéma barely had time to take his grandfather—who was waiting on the bank of the pond—upon his back.
“Now, run you along in front and we’ll follow behind,” said old Etawa, as he put one paw over the left shoulder and the other under the right arm, and clasped his legs tightly around the loins of Mátsailéma so as to hug close to his back.
“Grandfather, kutchi! You are as heavy as a rock and as hard as one, too,” said the younger brother. “How can I dodge those stinging beasts?”
“That’s all the better for you,” said the old Turtle, loosening his grip a little; “take it easy.”
“They’re coming! They’re coming!” shouted Áhaiyúta from ahead. “Hurry, hurry, brother younger; hurry!” But Mátsailéma couldn’t get along any faster than he could.
Presently the old Turtle glanced around and saw that the people were gaining on them and already drawing their bows. “Duck your head down and never mind them. Now, you’ll see what I can do!” said he, pulling into his shell.
Thle‑e‑e, thle‑thle‑thle‑e‑e, rattled the arrows against old Etawa’s shell, and the warriors were already shouting, “Ho‑o‑o‑awiyeishikia!”—which was their cry of victory—when they began to cry out in other tones, for tsuiya! their arrows glanced from old Turtle’s shell and struck themselves, so that they dropped in every direction. “Terror and blood! but those beings can shoot fast and hard!” shouted they to one another, but they kept pelting away harder and faster, only to hit one another with the glancing arrows.
“Hold!” cried one in advance of the others. “Head them off! Head them off! We’re only shooting ourselves against that black shield of theirs, and the other loosens our bowstrings.”
But just then Áhaiyúta reached the home of his other grandfather, Amiwili. Behold! he was all swollen up with food and could hardly move—only wag his head back and forth.
“Are you coming?” groaned the old fellow. “Quick, get out of the way, all of you! Quick, quick!”
Áhaiyúta jumped out of the way just as Mátsailéma cried out: “Ha hua! I can run no farther; I must drop you, grandfather,”—but he saw Áhaiyúta jump to one side, so he followed, too.
Old Amiwili reared himself and, opening his mouth, waah! weeh! right and left he threw the lizard leaves he had been eating, until the Háwikuhkwe were blinded and suffocated by them, and, dropping their bows and weapons, began to clutch their eyes from blindness and pain. And old Amiwili coughed and coughed till he had blown nearly all his substance away, and there was nothing left of him but a worm no bigger than your middle finger.
“Drop me and make your winnings,” cried the old Turtle. “I guess I can take care of myself,” he chuckled from the inside of his shell; and it was short work for the boys to cast down all their enemies whom Amiwili had blown upon, and the others fled terrified toward Háwikuh.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the two boys as they began to take off the scalps of the Háwikuhkwe. “These caps are better than half a flock of Turkeys.”
“Who’ll proclaim our victory to our people?” said they, suddenly stopping; and one would have thought they belonged to a big village and a great tribe instead of to a lone house on top of Twin Mountain, with a single old granny in it; but then that was their way, you know.
“I will! I will!” cried the old Turtle, as he waddled off toward Twin Mountain and left the boys to skin scalps.
When he came to the top of the low hill south of Master Canyon, he stuck a stick up in the air and shouted.
“Hoo-o! Hawanawi-i-i-i!” which is the shout of victory; and, not seeing the old woman, he cried out two or three times.
“Hoo-o! Iwolohkia-a-a!” which, as you know, means “Murder! Murder!” The old woman heard it and was frightened. She threw an old robe over her shoulders, and, grabbing up the fire-poker, started down as fast as her limping old limbs would let her, and nearly tumbled over when she heard old Etawa shout again, “Iwolohkia!”
“Ha!” said she; “I’ll teach the shameless Turkey killers, if I am an old woman;” and she shook her fire-poker in the air until she came up to where the old Turtle was waiting.
Here, just as she came near, the old Turtle pretended not to see her, but stood up on his legs, and, holding his pole with one hand, cried out, “Hoo‑o! Hawanawi‑i‑i‑i!” which was the shout of victory, as I told you before.
“What is it?” cried the old woman, as she limped along up and said: “Ah! ahi!” (“My poor old legs!”)
“Victory!” said the proud Turtle, scarcely deigning to look at her.21
“Who has this day renewed himself?” she inquired.
“Thy grandchildren,” answered the old Turtle.
“Have they won?” asked the old woman, as she said: “Thanks this day!”
“Many caps,” replied the Turtle.
“Will they celebrate?”
“Yes.”
“Who will purify and pass them?” asked the granny.
“Why, you will.”
“Who will bathe the scalps?”
“Why, I will.”
“Who will swing the scalps round the
