"Amazement!" he said; "how fine the meat is!"
"Yes," replied the old wolf, "it is always so with us; we know our work, and always get the best. It is not a long tail that makes the hunter."
Manabozho bit his lip.
They now fixed their winter quarters. The youngsters went out in search of game, and they soon brought in a large supply. One day, during the absence of the young hunters, the old wolf amused himself in cracking the large bones of a moose.
"Manabozho," said he, "cover your head with the robe, and do not look at me while I am busy with these bones, for a piece may fly in your eye."
He did as he was bid; but looking through a rent that was in the robe, he saw what the other was about. Just at that moment a piece flew off and hit him on the eye. He cried out:
"Tyau, why do you strike me, you old dog?"
The wolf answered—"You must have been looking at me."
"No, no," retorted Manabozho, "why should I want to look at you?"
"Manabozho," said the old wolf, "you must have been looking or you would not have got hurt."