But Manabozho insisted, and as the old wolf was no great master of tricky argument, he was obliged to give it up.
Shortly after this the old wolf suggested to Manabozho that he should go out and try his luck in hunting by himself.
When he chose to put his mind upon it Manabozho was quite expert, and this time he succeeded in killing a fine fat moose, which he thought he would take aside slyly and devour alone, having prepared to tell the old wolf a pretty story on his return, to account for his failure to bring anything with him.
He was very hungry, and he sat down to eat; but as he never could go to work in a straightforward way, he immediately fell into great doubts as to the proper point at which to begin.
"Well," said he, "I do not know where to commence. At the head? No. People will laugh, and say—'He ate him backward.'"
He went to the side. "No," said he, "they will say I ate him sideways."
He then went to the hind-quarter. "No, that will not do, either; they will say I ate him forward. I will begin here, say what they will."
He took a delicate piece from the small of the back and was just on the point of putting it to his mouth, when a tree close by made a creaking noise. He seemed vexed at the sound. He raised the morsel to his mouth the second time, when the tree creaked again.
"Why," he exclaimed, "I cannot eat when I hear such a noise. Stop, stop!" he said to the tree. He put the meat down, exclaiming—"I cannot eat with such a noise"; and starting away he climbed the tree, and was pulling at the limb which had offended him, when his fore-paw was caught between the branches so that he could not free himself.
While thus held fast, he saw a pack of wolves advancing through the wood in the direction of his meat. He suspected them to be the old wolf and his cubs, but night was coming on and he could not make them out.