Mink, hearing of this, sent a messenger to investigate. He was well received, and fed with the best. The Mink himself determined to pay the old man a visit, knowing that enemy though he was, he would be kindly treated while a guest, according to Indian etiquette. He asked Sturgeon where he got all his supplies, and was told that they came from the far north. Then he said, “Are you alone here?” “Yes,” said Hā-bāh-so, “except my grandson;” pointing to a huge Sturgeon who lay flopping by the fire.
Next day when Mūs-bes-so left, he was loaded with as much meat as he could carry. When he got home, he told his story, and suggested to his five daughters that one of them should marry Sturgeon’s grandson, who would keep them in plenty for the rest of their lives. So the girls set out to visit the enemy in turn, and each returned saying, “I would not think of marrying that monster. If ever I marry, I shall choose a man, and not a fish, for a husband.” So it went until it came to the youngest girl. She entered Sturgeon’s wigwam and, without a word, made herself at home, began to arrange the bed and cook the food. When night fell, and she did not return, her father rejoiced, for he knew she had married young Sturgeon.
She, meantime, had waked at night to find a handsome youth beside her, who, with the first rays of daylight, again became a fish. They were very happy together and knew no care. Every morning she found a supply of the choicest game or fish at the door, and in due time she became the mother of a lovely boy.
Her husband proposed to visit her family to exhibit this new treasure, to which she gladly acceded. He told her that there was but one difficulty; namely, that she would have to carry him as well as the baby. She made no objection, and they set forth. When they were almost in sight of the Mink village, the young man was turned to a big Sturgeon, which his wife shouldered, taking the baby in her arms.
The old Minks were delighted to see her; but the sisters laughed and sneered at Sturgeon, and despised their sister for being willing to accept such a husband. They were very glad, nevertheless, to accept the supplies of food which he provided every day; and their contempt was turned to envy when they awaked one night and saw him in his human form. They then began to plot how they might kill their sister and take her place; but Sturgeon, learning their plans, comforted his distressed wife, promising to punish her wicked sisters, whom he did indeed turn into turtles, in which condition they led a moist and disagreeable life.
After this, he felt that it was time for him to go; so he furnished his father-in-law with enough provisions to last a year, and set forth on his return journey with his wife and son.
Before they had gone far, they saw in the distance Kosq’, the Heron, coming towards them. Now Kosq’ had been a suitor of Mistress Mink before she married Sturgeon, and the latter knew him to be bent on vengeance. He told his wife that she must help him, for Kosq’ had great power, and it would not be easy to overcome him. Together they built a circular wigwam, in which they shut themselves, Kosq’ prowling about outside, each determined not to stir from the spot until the other yielded to starvation.
Mistress Mink dug in the earth at one side of the wigwam, the bed being on the other side, and the fire-place in the middle. She dug until a stream of water flowed forth which not only gave them drink, but which contained various insects and small creatures which satisfied their hunger.
Kosq’ outside dug with his long bill and found little or nothing, this inner stream attracting all upon which he otherwise might have fed. So he flew thither and thither, weaker and weaker, and ever and again he cried to Hā-bāh-so: “Will you give up, now?” “No, no,” was the reply; “I am strong and well.”
Finally, poor Kosq’, determined not to yield, died of sheer hunger, and Hā-bāh-so, with his brave wife and child, came from the wigwam, went back to their old grandfather, and in time built up a village.