“No, Uncle,” was the reply.
“But I am going nevertheless!”
“Then not with me,—never!” was Two Feathers’ answer.
Two Feathers set out the next morning and when he had traveled three days he met Woodchuck Leggings, who had a day’s start on the journey. He saw him sitting on a stump with his back toward the trail.
“Niawĕ’´skäno’!” shouted Two Feathers.
“Dogĕ‘s!” was the startled reply.
“How came you here, Uncle?”
“I am on my journey.”
“Then if it is your journey you must not expect to go with me, for I will not allow it.” Two Feathers ran on ahead leaving his uncle still sitting on the stump. When night came he set up camp and kindled a fire for cooking a supper. As he lay down for sleeping he heard the night birds scream and listening he heard the crackling of sticks. Lifting his bow, he prepared for the enemy, whatever it might be. In the dim light of the dying camp fire, he saw the shadow of a ragged old man, limping along the trail. It was Woodchuck Leggings.
“Niawĕ’´skäno’´, Uncle!” said Two Feathers in greeting.