The boy came home unsuccessful. Then his sister told him that he must not despair, but try again the next day.
She accordingly left him again at the gathering-place of the wood and returned to the lodge. Toward nightfall she heard his little footsteps crackling through the snow, and he hurried in and threw down, with an air of triumph, one of the birds which he had killed.
"My sister," said he, "I wish you to skin it and stretch the skin, and when I have killed more, I will have a coat made out of the skins."
"But what shall we do with the body?" said she; for they had always up to that time lived upon greens and berries.
"Cut it in two," he answered, "and season our pottage with one half of it at a time."
It was their first dish of game, and they relished it greatly.
The boy kept on in his efforts, and in the course of time he killed ten birds-out of the skins of which his sister made him a little coat. Being very small, he had a very pretty coat, and a bird-skin to spare.
"Sister," said he one day, as he paraded up and down before the lodge, enjoying his new coat and fancying himself the greatest little fellow in the world—as he was, for there was no other besides him—"My sister, are we really alone in the world, or are we playing at it? Is there nobody else living? And tell me, was all this great broad earth and this huge big sky made for a little boy and girl like you and me?"
"Ah, no," answered the sister, "there are many others, but not harmless as you and I are. They live in a certain other quarter of the earth, and if we would not endanger our lives we must keep away from there. They have killed off all our kinsfolk and will kill us, too, if we go near where they are."
To this the boy was silent; but his sister's words only served to inflame his curiosity the more, and soon after he took his how and arrows and went in the forbidden direction.