After many days the grandfather returned. “We are lost now,” said he. “The beast is coming to devour us. Only four days remain for us to live.” “I’ll shoot it,” exclaimed Gajihsondis. “I am a good marksman now!”
The old man laughed. “Oh no,” said he. “I gave you an arrow that can never hit its mark. You cannot shoot.” “But my grandfather,” contradicted the boy, “I never miss the mark.” The grandfather grunted, “Wha-a-a-ah.”
Gajihsondis then shot the raccoon’s foot. This made the old man look up. “It is only a chance,” he said. “You had power with you but for a moment. Never more can you do it. I will place the foot elsewhere. Thereupon he threw it to the top of a tall tree. “Now you cannot hit it,” he said.
Gajihsondis took easy aim and hit the foot knocking it from its hanging to another tree much higher and with a second arrow he knocked it again, bringing it to the ground.
Instead of being pleased the old man was very angry and said: “Who has been here to guide you? There is some evil thing lurking about. Well, never mind this, you can not kill real game. You have no arrows to hit anything.”
Gajihsondis then went out and saw the bird he first had aimed at. Again he shot, and killed it this time. Taking it up he ran in great glee to his grandfather. “Oh contempt!” exclaimed the old man. “You have killed nothing but a chickadee.” But even so, the old man worried, for he knew that his grandson had killed the first creature which by custom a child is permitted to kill when he learns to hunt.
Again the boy went out and soon returned with a raccoon. It was a fine fat animal and made a good meal for the two, but the grandfather ridiculed the boy and said it was only temporary luck, for the boy possessed no orenda (magical power). Again the boy tried his skill and killed a fine turkey which the old man dressed and cooked, at the same time sneering as before. On his fourth excursion Gajihsondis killed a deer and brought it in. This time the old man angrily exclaimed, “It is not right that you should become proficient as a hunter but it seems that you have. Oh now we shall all die for you will consider yourself able to leave this lodge and to follow the path.”
Now, this is just what Gajihsondis wanted to do. He had only one desire,—to overcome the monster that barred him from his father and mother. “Now I am going,” said he, without further ado. “I shall slay the monster.”
The old man scolded and wept, but Gajihsondis was soon out of sight down the well-beaten path that led from the lodge into the deep forest. After a day’s journey he found a gigantic frog crying out terrible threats. “Whoso comes near this spring,” he croaked, “shall die. I eat whoever comes near this spring.”
Gajihsondis was not a bit frightened; he simply drew his bow and shot the frog, and though it was larger than he, he tied its feet together and hung it to his carrying frame and returned to his grandfather’s lodge. The old man was very angry but the boy only laughed. Now he had learned a new trick, that of laughing. He had never done this before and to have him laugh made his grandfather even more angry.