As he advanced rapidly, she ran in, and taking the hand of her son, a boy of three or four years old, she led him out. Speaking very loud, "See, my son," she said, "your grandfather"; and then added in a tone of appeal and supplication, "he will have pity on us." The giant approached and said, with a loud ha I ha! "Yes, my son"; and added, addressing the woman, "Have you anything to eat?"
By good luck the lodge was well supplied with meats of various kinds. The woman thought to please him by handing him these, which were savory and carefully prepared. But he pushed them away in disgust, saying, "I smell fire"; and not waiting to be invited, he seized upon the carcass of a deer which lay by the door and despatched it almost without stopping to take breath.
When the hunter came home he was surprised to see the monster, he was so very frightful. He had again brought a deer, which he had no sooner put down than the cannibal seized it, tore it in pieces, and devoured it as though he had been fasting for a week. The hunter looked on in fear and astonishment, and in a whisper he told his wife that he was afraid for their lives, as this monster was one of those monsters whom Indians call Weendigoes. He did not even dare to speak to him, nor did the cannibal say a word, but as soon as he had finished his meal, stretched himself down and fell asleep.
In the evening the Weendigo told the people that he should go out a-hunting; and he strided away toward the North. Toward morning he returned, all besmeared with blood, but he did not make known where he had been or of what kind of game he had been in quest; but the hunter and his wife had dreadful suspicions of the sport in which he had been engaged. Withal his hunger did not seem to be staid, for he took up the deer which the hunter had brought in and devoured it eagerly, leaving the family to make their meal of the dried meats which had been reserved in the lodge.
In this manner the Weendigo and the hunter's family lived for some time, and it surprised them that the monster did not attempt their lives; he never slept at night, but always went out and returned by the break of day stained with blood and looking very wild and famished. When there was no deer to be had wherewith to finish his repast, he said nothing. In truth he was always still and gloomy, and he seldom spoke to any of them; when he did, his discourse was chiefly addressed to the boy.
One evening, after he had thus sojourned with them for many weeks, he informed the hunter that the time had now arrived for him to take his leave, but that before doing so, he would give him a charm that would bring good luck to his lodge. He presented to him two arrows, and thanking the hunter and his wife for their kindness, the Weendigo departed, saying, as he left them, that he had all the world to travel over.
The hunter and his wife were happy when he was gone, for they had looked every moment to have been devoured by him. Then they tried the arrows, which never failed to bring down whatever they were aimed at.
So they lived on, prosperous and contented, for a year. One day when the hunter was absent, his wife, going out of the lodge, saw something like a black cloud approaching.
She looked until it came near, when she perceived that it was another Weendigo, or Giant Cannibal.
Remembering the good conduct of the other, she had no fear of this one, and asked him to look into the lodge.