“Ah, ha! I will take a step toward this thing,” said Great Kingfisher, “but it is a difficult task you place before me. Old Tarantula is exceedingly cunning and very keen of sight, moreover. I will, however, take a step, and if I have good luck will be able to bring back to you something of what he has stolen.” He then made his adieu, and went back to his house at the Hill of the Kingfisher.
Very early the next morning he took his swift way to the Ak’yapaatch-ella, and there where the columns of rock fork he lay himself down between them, like a little finger between two other fingers, merely thrusting his beak over the edge, and looking at the opening of Old Tarantula’s hole.
The plumes of sunlight were but barely gleaming on the farther edge of the world when Old Tarantula cast his eyes just out of the edge of his hole, and looked all around. Eyes like many eyes had he, wonderfully sharp and clear. With these he looked all around, as might have been expected. He discovered Great Kingfisher, little-so-ever of him showing, and called out: “Heee! Wóloi weee!” (“Ho, ho! skulker skulking. Ho, ho! skulker skulking!”) Instantly Great Kingfisher shook out his wings, and thluooo, descended like a breath of strong wind; and thlu-u-u-kwa, finished his flight like a loosed arrow; but he merely brushed the tips of the plumes in Old Tarantula’s head-knot, and the creature doubled himself up and headforemost plunged into his hole. Once in, “Ha, ha!” said he. “Good for him! Good! Good! Let’s have a dance, and sing,” said he, talking to himself; and thereupon he pranced up, jigged about his dark, deep room, singing this song:
“Ohatchik’ya ti Tákwà,
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà,
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà!
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Tákwà, Tákwà!”