“No; there is nothing more, I tell you.”
“Ah, mother, I think there must be.”
And he kept bothering and teasing until she told him again (she knew she would have to): “Yes, away down in the valley, some distance from here, near the little Cold-making Hill, there lives a fearful creature, a four-fold Elk or Bison, more enormous than any other living thing. Awiteli Wakashi he is called, and no one can go near him. He rushes stamping and bellowing about the country, and people never pass through that section from fear.”
“Ah,” said the boy; “don’t tell me any more; he must be a fearful creature, indeed.”
“Yes; but you will be sure to go there,” said she.
“Oh, no, no, mother; no, indeed!”
But the next morning he went earlier than ever, carrying with him his bows and arrows. He was so filled with dread, however, or pretended to be, that as he went along the trail he began to cry and sniffle, and walk very slowly, until he came near the hole of an old Gopher, his grandfather. The old fellow was working away, digging another cellar, throwing the dirt out, when he heard this crying. Said he: “That is my grandson; I wonder what he is up to now.” So he ran and stuck his nose out of the hole he was digging, and said: “Oh, my grandchild, where are you going?”
The boy stopped and began to look around.
“Right here! right here!” cried the grandfather, calling his attention to the hole. “Come, my boy.”
The boy put his foot in, and the hole enlarged, and he went down into it.