He then laid aside his hunting dress and accoutrements, and soon after both his feet began to inflame and turn black, so that he could not move. He directed his sister where to place his arrows, so that she might always have food. The inflammation continued to increase, and had now reached his first rib.
“Sister,” said he, “my end is near. You must do as I tell you. You see my medicine-sack and my war-club tied to it. It contains all my medicines, my war-plumes, and my paints of all colours. As soon as the inflammation reaches my chest, you will take my war-club, and with the sharp point of it cut off my head. When it is free from my body, take it, place its neck in the sack, which you must open at one end. Then hang it up in its former place. Do not forget my bow and arrows. One of the last you will take to procure food. Tie the others to my sack, and then hang it up so that I can look towards the door. Now and then I will speak to you, but not often.”
His sister again promised to obey.
In a little time his chest became affected.
“Now,” cried he, “take the club and strike off my head.”
His sister was afraid, but he told her to muster up courage.
“Strike,” said he, with a smile upon his face.
Calling up all her courage, his sister struck and cut off the head.
“Now,” said the head, “place me where I told you.”
Fearful, she obeyed it in all its commands.