He saw that every beast of the earth seeks its kind, and that which is like draws its likeness to itself.
The Master of Life thought and thought. The idea grew into his mind that at some time he would create a creature who should be made, not after the things of the earth, but after himself.
The being should link this world to the spirit world, being made in the likeness of the Great Spirit, he should be drawn unto his likeness.
Many days and nights—whole seasons—passed while Chemanitou thought upon these things. He saw all things.
Then the Master of Life lifted up his head. The stars were looking down upon the image, and a bat had alighted upon the forehead, spreading its great wings upon each side. Chemanitou took the bat and held out its whole leathery wings (and ever since the bat, when he rests, lets his body hang down), so that he could try them over the head of the image. He then took the life of the bat away, and twisted off the body, by which means the whole thin part fell down over the head of the image and upon each side, making the ears, and a covering for the forehead like that of the hooded serpent.
Chemanitou did not cut off the face of the image below, but went on and made a chin and lips that were firm and round, that they might shut in the forked tongue and ivory teeth, and he knew that with the lips the image would smile when life should be given to it.
The image was now complete save for the arms, and Chemanitou saw that it was necessary it should have hands. He grew more grave.
He had never given hands to any creature. He made the arms and the hands very beautiful, after the manner of his own.
Chemanitou now took no pleasure in the work he had done. It was not good in his sight.
He wished he had not given it hands. Might it not, when trusted with life, create? Might it not thwart the plans of the Master of Life himself?