After a long conversation, which they conducted in a whisper so that Paup-puk-keewiss could not catch a word, strain his ears as he would, they all advanced in a body toward the spot where he stood, the chief approaching the nearest, and lifting his head highest out of the water.
“Can you not,” said Paup-puk-keewiss, noticing that they waited for him to speak first, “turn me into a beaver? I wish to live among you.”
“Yes,” answered their chief; “lie down.” And Paup-puk-keewiss in a moment found himself a beaver, and was gliding into the water, when a thought seemed to strike him, and he paused at the edge of the lake. “I am very small,” he said to the beaver, in a sorrowful tone. “You must make me large,” he said; for Paup-puk-keewiss was terribly ambitious, and wanted always to be the first person in every company. “Larger than any of you; in my present size it’s hardly worth my while to go into the water.”
“Yes, yes!” said they. “By and by, when we get into the lodge, it shall be done.”
They all dived into the lake, and in passing great heaps of limbs and logs at the bottom, he asked the use of them. They answered, “It is for our winter’s provisions.”
When they all got into the lodge their number was about one hundred. The lodge was large and warm.
“Now we will make you large,” said they. “Will that do?”
“Yes,” he answered; for he found that he was ten times the size of the largest.
“You need not go out,” said the others; “we will bring you food into the lodge, and you will be our chief.”
“Very well,” Paup-puk-keewiss answered. He thought, “I will stay here and grow fat at their expense.” But, soon after, one ran into the lodge, out of breath, crying out, “We are visited by the Indians!”