The hunter looked at the rock with a bewildered face.
“What shall I do?” he asked. “This bear I can never carry alone, and it was agreed between my friend there and myself that we should not divide it till we reached home. Can’t you change my friend back, Manabozho?”
“I would like to oblige you,” answered Manabozho, “but it is utterly out of my power.”
With this, looking again at the rock with a sad and bewildered face, and then casting a sorrowful glance at the bear, which lay by the door of the lodge, the hunter took his leave, bewailing bitterly at heart the loss of his friend and his bear.
He was scarcely out of sight when Manabozho sent the children to get red willow sticks. Of these he cut off as many pieces of equal length as would serve to invite his friends among the beasts and birds to a feast. A red stick was sent to each one, not forgetting the woodpecker and his family.
When they arrived they were astonished to see such an abundance of meat prepared for them at such a time of scarcity. Manabozho understood their glance, and was proud of a chance to make such a display.
“Akewazi,” he said to the oldest of the party, “the weather is very cold, and the snow lasts a long time; we can kill nothing now but small squirrels, and they are all black; and I have sent for you to help me eat some of them.”
The woodpecker was the first to try a mouthful of the bear’s meat, but he had no sooner begun to taste it than it changed into a dry powder, and set him coughing. It appeared as bitter as ashes.
The moose was affected in the same way, and it brought on such a dry cough as to shake every bone in his body.
One by one, each in turn joined the company of coughers, except Manabozho and his family, to whom the bear’s meat proved very savory.