“Very well,” said the boys. “Grandmother, spread a robe for him in the corner.” Then they busied themselves straightening some of the arrows and trying their bows. Just as they were pulling one toward the entrance way, they heard old Etawa thumping along, and immediately the old fellow called out: “Hold on; don’t thump me against one of those sticks of yours; they jar a fellow so!”
“Oh, it’s you, is it, grandfather? Well, we’re only trying our new bows; come in and sit down.” So the old fellow bumped along in and took his place by the fire, for he did not care whether it was hot or cold.
“Are the councillors here?” asked he, wagging his head around.
“Why, certainly,” said the two boys; “and now our council is so full we had better proceed to discuss what we had better do.”
When the old Turtle discovered that the boys had been playing him a joke, he was vexed, but he didn’t show it. “Amiwili here?” asked he. “Tchukwe! We four will teach those Háwikuhkwe!”
“Yes, indeed!” croaked the Rainbow-worm.
“Well,” said the boys, “at daybreak tomorrow morning, before it is light, we shall start for Háwikuh-town.”
“Very well,” responded Amiwili. “Come to my place first, and let me know when you start.”
“And,” added Etawa, “come to my place next and let me know. When you boys get to Háwikuh and alarm the people, if they get too thick for you, come back to my house as fast as you can, and you, Mátsailéma, take me up on your back. Then you two run toward your other grandfather’s house. I’ll show these Háwikuhkwe that I can waste life as much as anybody, even if I have no arrows to shoot at them.”
“Yes,” added the Rainbow-worm, “and when you come up to my house, just run past me and I’ll take care of the rest of them. I’m made to use up life, I am,” swaggered he.