As the uncle grew older he began to worry about the future, for he was reaching the age when men cease to go on hunting excursions. Now his nephew, Hauñwan´dĕn’, was at the age when it was considered that a boy is not yet ready for the rigors of the chase. Therefore, the old uncle was perplexed.
On a certain night the old man came home to the great empty bark lodge and threw down a deer. “This is my last hunt,” he exclaimed. “My nephew, you must soon learn to shoot.”
“Oh I can shoot as well as any one,” said the boy with great assurance, and so the old man gave him his bow and an arrow. “Shoot the spot where I have hit that stump with an arrow,” said the old man, and the boy taking the big bow and long arrow, pulled the cord back and shot. His arrow struck the very spot where his uncle had pointed out an arrow mark. “Tcă‘, tcă‘!” exclaimed the old man. “You are now able to shoot. Tomorrow you may go hunting, but first wait, I will tell you what animal you will be able to kill.”
So saying the uncle took his flute from its bundle and examined it. Then he blew a few notes of a charm song upon it. In another moment the flute itself uttered notes though nobody blew upon it. “This indicates that you will kill a deer,” announced the uncle.
The next day Hauñwandeh went into the forest alone and shot a deer, which he brought home to his uncle. “This is good,” said the uncle. “Now let me consult my flute again.”
Once again he blew the notes of the charm song upon his flute, waited a moment and then heard it call out, “Two deer shall be killed tomorrow.”
“Now, my nephew,” said the uncle looking very grave, “I must tell you that while you must in the future hunt for both of us, you must never go south. Listen to what I say, never go south.”
On the morrow the boy returned dragging two deer and threw them on the ground outside his uncle’s doorway. Again the uncle expressed his satisfaction, and again he consulted his flute. “My nephew,” he announced after listening to the oracle, “tomorrow you shall kill a deer and a fat bear. Again I warn you never to go south.”
The boy that night had troubled dreams and through his mind the question was repeated over and over, “Why may I not go south, Oh why may I not go south?”
The hunting continued each day as before, but the boy was greatly troubled about his uncle’s command. Nevertheless he obeyed until he saw that the lodge was well supplied with meat which hung in the smoke from every rafter, curing for winter’s use. Then he thought that come what might to him he would go south, and if he died his uncle would have plenty to eat for a long time.