They made a special mock of the walking-staff, and scarcely an hour in the day passed that they had not some disparaging reference to make to it. Among themselves they spoke of "Osseo of the walking-staff," in derision, as one might speak of "the owner of the big woods," or "the great timberman."
"True," said Oweenee, "it is but a simple stick; but as it supports the steps of my husband, it is more precious to me than all the forests of the north."
A time came when the sisters and their husbands and their parents were all invited to a feast. As the distance was considerable, they doubted whether Osseo, so aged and feeble, would be able to undertake the journey; but in spite of their friendly doubts, he joined them and set out with a good heart.
As they walked along the path they could not help pitying their young and handsome sister who had such an unsuitable mate. She, however, smiled upon Osseo, and kept with him on the way the same as if he had been the comeliest bridegroom in all the company. Osseo often stopped and gazed upward; but the others could perceive nothing in the direction in which he looked, unless it was the faint glimmering of the evening star. They heard him muttering to himself as they went along, and one of the elder sisters caught the words:
"Pity me, my father!"
"Poor old man," said she, "he is talking to his father. What a pity it is that he would not fall and break his neck, that our sister might have a young husband."
Presently as they came to a great rock where Osseo had been used to breathe his morning and his evening prayer, the star emitted a brighter ray, which shone directly in his face. Osseo, with a sharp cry, fell trembling to the earth, where the others would have left him. But his good wife raised him up, whereupon he sprang forward on the path, and with steps light as the reindeer's he led the party, no longer decrepit and infirm, but a beautiful young man. All were delighted, but when they turned around to look for his wife, behold! she had become changed at the same moment into an aged and feeble woman, bent almost double, and walking with the staff which he had cast aside.
Osseo immediately joined her, and with looks of fondness and the tenderest regard bestowed on her every endearing attention, and constantly addressed her by the term of "De-ne-moosh-a," or "my sweetheart."
As they walked along, whenever they were not gazing fondly in each other's faces they bent their looks on heaven, and a light, as if of far-off stars, was in their eyes.
On arriving at the lodge of the hunter with whom they were to feast, they found the banquet ready, and as soon as their entertainer had finished his harangue—in which he told them his feasting was in honor of the Evening or Woman's Star—they began to partake of the portion dealt out to each one of the guests, according to age and character. The food was very delicious, and they were all happy but Osseo, who looked at his wife and then gazed upward, as if he were still looking into the substance of the sky. Then sounds were heard, as if from far-off voices in the air, and they became plainer and plainer, till he could clearly distinguish some of the words.