“O-e-ai!” the old man exclaimed, in a surprised and pained tone. “O-e-ai! What? That old stick? Surely, my son, you must be crazy. Look about you; open your eyes and choose one of these beautiful medicines.”
“Give me the stick,” New Robe repeated.
“Come, come. Surely you do not know what you ask for. Now let me explain to you,” [[211]]and the old man began to point out the different medicines and to tell what they were, explaining the wonderful and mysterious power of each. “There, you see,” he concluded, “how unreasonable was your choice. Now I have explained them all, tell me which will you have?”
New Robe considered; he wondered if the old woman had not been mistaken in advising him to choose the old beaver cutting, but he caught her eye, and, assured by her meaning glance, replied as before, “Give me the stick.”
Once more the old man tried with all his power to persuade him to make a different choice, and the sweat rolled from his brow as he entreated the young man to select something else, and once more New Robe said, “I want the stick.”
“O-e-ai!” cried the old man in despair. “Four times you have asked for the old cutting, and when that sacred number is reached I cannot refuse. Take the cutting, my son. It is the most valuable and powerful of all my medicines. It is really a beaver which, at will, you can change to the simple cutting as it appears to be.” [[212]]
New Robe was pleased, and when he learned how powerful the medicine was that he had chosen he knew that he had not left the home of his people in vain. He was now obliged to put off his departure, for he had to learn the hundred songs and the many prayers that went with his gift. But at last he knew them all by heart, and the old man gave him some parting advice.
“You must not look back,” he said, “when you leave us, not even once, or the medicine will leave you and return to me. Also, you must always carry it concealed beneath your shirt, hanging by the string I have tied to it. Never let any one see it, or your power will be broken.”
Then they all bade him good-bye, and he dived into the pool, and presently rose to the surface of the pond. When he reached the shore he knelt down in the grass and cried, cried long and bitterly, for he felt very sad to leave the kind beavers. It was all he could do to keep from looking back for one last glimpse of them. But after a time he rose and walked on, out of the valley, up over the dry, wide plain. After a little he came to a river, [[213]]swollen and swift with the melted snows. He placed a little cutting in the water, and it changed at once into a large, pure white beaver.
“Little brother,” said New Robe, “the stream is high and dangerous. Cut me some logs so that I may make a raft on which to cross it safely.”