All at once the door-flap moved, and Oscoon’s youngest son fell down in the doorway, quite dead. Now, in some families this would have caused a commotion. But the giants went on talking of the battle as if nothing unusual had happened. Finally Oscoon, who was smoking his pipe in a corner, looked over at his boy upon the ground.
“Well, my son,” he said, “why are you lying there?”
“It is because I am dead, Father,” answered the young giant. “The Chenoo has killed me.”
“If that is all,” said Oscoon, quietly, “get up at once. It is supper-time.”
The young giant opened his eyes and sat up. He did not seem to be any the worse for having been dead. And at supper, certainly, he ate none the less for it.
So the days passed as before. The giants never tired of petting their small guests. Every day the young giants would bring them new treasures, and every day Oscoon would contrive some new game for them. The youngest giant, who was quick with his hands, caught some small live deer, which the giantess kept for them in a basket, as a boy might keep pet mice.
But in spite of these new playthings, Pulowech’s wife became less and less lively. She did not play as she used to, and she would sit quietly for hours at a time as if she were trying to think out something that troubled her. Finally a thoughtfulness settled over Pulowech as well. They gave up hide-and-seek entirely. Instead, they talked and talked together, sometimes far into the night. Little by little they seemed to be remembering something, and the more they remembered, the more worried they grew.
The giantess became anxious. The little people got on more and more slowly with their whale, and as for the deer meat, they no longer seemed to care for it at all. The giantess racked her brains for some way to tempt them. So, with long patience she made for Oscoon a tiny net which would catch the sharks that wriggled through his whale-net like minnows. And when he caught some, she broiled three fine ones for dinner. But the Indians, who had been so pleased with new dishes before, seemed hardly to notice the change.
At last, one day when Oscoon had taken them to the beach, he spoke to them. “My little people,” he said, “it worries me to see you so quiet and sad. Tell me what troubles you. For we will cheerfully do anything that will make you happy again.”