Manabozho turned back.
"You do the child injustice. Look there!" and behold, a heap of fresh, ruddy meat was lying on the spot, already prepared.
Manabozho, at the view of so much good provision, put on a smiling face.
"Amazement!" he said; "how fine the meat is!"
"Yes," replied the old wolf, "it is always so with us; we know our work and always get the best. It is not a long tail that makes the hunter."
Manabozho hit his lip.
They now fixed their winter quarters. The youngsters went out in search of game, and they soon brought in a large supply. One day, during the absence of the young hunters, the old wolf amused himself in cracking the large bones of a moose.
"Manabozho," said he, "cover your head with the robe, and do not look at me while I am busy with these bones, for a piece may fly in your eye."
Manabozho did as he was bid; but looking through a rent in the robe, he saw what the other was about. Just at that moment a piece flew off and hit him on the eye. He cried out:
"Tyau, why do you strike me, you old dog?"