“Netawis, Netawis (Cousin, cousin)!” he cried; but there was no answer. He searched the woods and all the shores around, but could not find him. He did not know what to do.
“Although,” he reasoned, “his parents are my relations, and they know he and I were great friends, they will not believe me if I go home and say that he is lost. They will say that I killed him, and will require blood for blood.”
However, he resolved to return home, and, arriving there, he told them what had occurred. Some said, “He has killed him treacherously,” others said, “It is impossible. They were like brothers.”
Search was made on every side, and when at length it became certain that Wassamo was not to be found, his parents demanded the life of Netawis.
Meanwhile, what had happened to Wassamo? When he recovered his senses, he found himself stretched on a bed in a spacious lodge.
“Stranger,” said some one, “awake, and take something to eat.”
Looking around him he saw many people, and an old spirit man, addressing him, said—
“My daughters saw you at the fishing-ground, and brought you here. I am the guardian spirit of Nagow Wudjoo (the sand mountains). We will make your visit here agreeable, and if you will remain I will give you one of my daughters in marriage.”
The young man consented to the match, and remained for some time with the spirit of the sand-hills in his lodge at the bottom of the lake, for there was it situated. At last, however, approached the season of sleep, when the spirit and his relations lay down for their long rest.
“Son-in-law,” said the old spirit, “you can now, in a few days, start with your wife to visit your relations. You can be absent one year, but after that you must return.”