Again the voice of Mondamin was heard from the ground. "Take from me my covers. Scatter my kernels over the plain. Break my spine and throw it all about you.
"Make the earth soft and light above me. Let no bird disturb me, and let no weed share my resting place. Watch me till I stand once more tall and beautiful. Then you shall have food for your people."
Manabush obeyed all that the voice had commanded. On the way back to his canoe he killed a deer, but he said no word to his companions of his strange adventure with the man of the red feather.
When the new moon hung like a bow in the west, he visited the field alone. What were the wide grass-like blades making green the plain? What were the vines that sent their runners all about?
Carefully he tilled the field. The stems grew strong, and the broad leaves gleamed in the sunshine. Still he kept the secret, spending many hours in watching for his enemies.
When summer drew near its close, Manabush paddled his canoe to the shore nearest the wrestling ground. He found the corn clad in green and yellow, with red plumes waving. And great yellow pumpkins were ripening on the green vines.
As he picked the ripe red ears he heard a voice from the field, saying: "Victory has crowned your struggles, O Manabush. The gift of corn is to your people, and will always be their food."