Manabozho was very urgent; at last his father said:
“Yes, there is a black stone to be found a couple of hundred miles from here, over that way,” pointing as he spoke. “It is the only thing earthly that I am afraid of, for if it should happen to hit me on any part of my body it would hurt me very much.”
The West made this important circumstance known to Manabozho in the strictest confidence.
“Now, you will not tell any one, Manabozho, that the black stone is bad medicine for your father, will you?” he added. “You are a good son, and I know will keep it to yourself. Now tell me, my darling boy, is there not something that you don’t like?”
Manabozho answered promptly—“Nothing.”
His father, who was of a very steady and persevering temper, put the same question to him seventeen times, and each time Manabozho made the same answer—“Nothing.”
But the West insisted—“There must be something you are afraid of.”
“Well, I will tell you,” says Manabozho, “what it is.”
He made an effort to speak, but it seemed to be too much for him.
“Out with it,” said Ningabiun, or the West, fetching Manabozho such a blow on the back as shook the mountain with its echo.