"Nothing," said Grasshopper. "Where is your grandfather?"
They all answered, with another broad stare:
"We ate him a week ago. Do you not wish to wrestle?"
"Yes," replied Grasshopper, "I don't mind if I do take a turn; but you must be easy with me, for you see I am very little."
Pipe-bearer, who stood near enough to overhear the conversation, grinned from ear to ear when he caught this remark. The Manitoes answered:
"Oh, yes, we will be easy with you."
And as they said this they looked at one another, and rolled their eyes about in a dreadful manner. A hideous smile came over their faces as they whispered among themselves:
"It's a pity he's so thin." Then, "You go," they said to the eldest brother.
The two got ready—the Manito and Grasshopper—and they were soon clinched in each other's arms for a deadly throw. Grasshopper knew their object—his death; they wanted a taste of his delicate little body, and he was determined they should have it, but perhaps in a different sense from what they intended.
"Haw! haw!" they cried, and soon the dust and dry leaves flew about as if driven by a strong wind. The Manito was strong, but Grasshopper thought he could master him; and all at once giving him a sly trip, just as the wicked spirit was trying to finish his breakfast with a piece out of his shoulder, he sent the Manito head-foremost against a stone; and calling aloud to the three others, he bade them come and take the body away.