The hungry and mischievous Mawquejess was watching him, and when Alnūset went for a fresh load, he would rush in and eat until he was over-full.
Mīko, from his hole in the tree, saw this thief at work; but he dared say nothing, and there were so many dead animals piled together that he thought the two hunters would never miss what Mawquejess ate.
But Mawquejess could not be content to let well enough alone. He went up to the Rock in his turn, and, imitating the voice of Alnūset, said:—
“Mūs mī, if you feel a spark of pity for your children, you will sing a song and call your animals together.”
So the old man again broke into song, and all the animals that lay dead, slain by Mātigwess, came to life and stood around the Rock, now listening to his weird song. When the song ceased, each went his way once more.
When Alnūset and Mātigwess reached the wigwam, they found all their game gone, and saw nothing but tracks and prints of large moccasins. By this they knew that this was one of the tricks of Mawquejess.
They were disgusted and depressed; but they cooked and ate what bones and bits were left from the previous day. Night coming on, they did not hear the songs of the goblins as usual, nothing but the howl of wolves following the bloody tracks.
Next morning Mātigwess, who was the more powerful in magic of the two, said to Alnūset: “I had a dream last night, and our Grandfather of the Mountain[29] told me that Mawquejess had tricked him into singing, and also said: ‘Mawquejess will visit your camp to-day while you are away!’ ”
“Very well,” said Alnūset, “then he will not go away. We will fight, and kill him if we can.”
“No, do you go down the river and look to the trap,” said Mātigwess. “If there should be any danger, you will hear from me.”