At a distance Pauppukkeewis saw a very high rock jutting out into a lake, and he ran for the foot of the precipice, which was abrupt and elevated. As he came near, the manito of the rock opened his door and told him to come in. No sooner was the door closed than Manabozho knocked at it.
“Open,” he cried in a loud voice.
The manito was afraid of him, but said to his guest—
“Since I have sheltered you, I would sooner die with you than open the door.”
“Open,” Manabozho cried again.
The manito was silent. Manabozho made no attempt to force the door open. He waited a few moments.
“Very well,” said he, “I give you till night to live.”
The manito trembled, for he knew that when the hour came he would be shut up under the earth.
Night came, the clouds hung low and black, and every moment the forked lightning flashed from them. The black clouds advanced slowly and threw their dark shadows afar, and behind was heard the rumbling noise of the coming thunder. When the clouds were gathered over the rock the thunders roared, the lightning flashed, the ground shook, and the solid rock split, tottered, and fell. Under the ruins lay crushed the mortal bodies of Pauppukkeewis and the manito.
It was only then that Pauppukkeewis found that he was really dead. He had been killed before in the shapes of different animals, but now his body, in human shape, was crushed.