“Hold!” cried one in advance of the others. “Head them off! Head them off! We’re only shooting ourselves against that black shield of theirs, and the other loosens our bow-strings.”
But just then Áhaiyúta reached the home of his other grandfather, Amiwili. Behold! he was all swollen up with food and could hardly move—only wag his head back and forth.
“Are you coming?” groaned the old fellow. “Quick, get out of the way, all of you! Quick, quick!”
Áhaiyúta jumped out of the way just as Mátsailéma cried out: “Ha hua! I can run no farther; I must drop you, grandfather,”—but he saw Áhaiyúta jump to one side, so he followed, too.
Old Amiwili reared himself and, opening his mouth, waah! weeh! right and left he threw the lizard leaves he had been eating, until the Háwikuhkwe were blinded and suffocated by them, and, dropping their bows and weapons, began to clutch their eyes from blindness and pain. And old Amiwili coughed and coughed till he had blown nearly all his substance away, and there was nothing left of him but a worm no bigger than your middle finger.
“Drop me and make your winnings,” cried the old Turtle. “I guess I can take care of myself,” he chuckled from the inside of his shell; and it was short work for the boys to cast down all their enemies whom Amiwili had blown upon, and the others fled terrified toward Háwikuh.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the two boys as they began to take off the scalps of the Háwikuhkwe. “These caps are better than half a flock of Turkeys.”
“Who’ll proclaim our victory to our people?” said they, suddenly stopping; and one would have thought they belonged to a big village and a great tribe instead of to a lone house on top of Twin Mountain, with a single old granny in it; but then that was their way, you know.
“I will! I will!” cried the old Turtle, as he waddled off toward Twin Mountain and left the boys to skin scalps.
When he came to the top of the low hill south of Master Cañon, he stuck a stick up in the air and shouted.