"Ah, ha!" said the giant to himself, "I will catch some beaver for myself."

So as soon as the dog had left the place, the giant went to the river, and, imitating the dog, drew out a stone. He was delighted to see it change into a fine fat beaver as soon as it touched the land.

Tying it to his belt he hastened home, shouting a good deal and brandishing the white feather about, as if he were prepared now to show them what he could do when he once tried. And when he reached home he threw the beaver down, as is the custom, at the door of the lodge before he entered.

After being seated a short time, he gave a dry cough and bade his wife bring in his hunting girdle. She made despatch to obey him and presently returned with the girdle, with nothing tied to it but a stone.

The next day the dog, finding that his method of catching beavers had been discovered, went to a wood at some distance and broke off a charred limb from a burned tree. This limb instantly became a bear. The giant, who appeared to have lost faith in his hullaba-looing, again watched him, did exactly as the dog had done, and carried a bear home; but his wife, when she came to go out for it, found nothing but a black stick tied to his belt.

And so it happened with everything. Whatever the dog undertook, prospered; whatever the giant attempted, failed. And even his brave halloo had now died away to a feeble chirp. Every day the younger sister had reason to be more proud of the poor dog she had asked into her lodge, and every day the elder sister was made more aware that, though she had married the white feather, the virtues of the magic plume were not the personal property of the noisy giant.

At last the wife determined that she would go to her father and make known to him what a valuable husband she had, and how he furnished her lodge with a great abundance of sticks and stones, which he would pass upon her for bear and beaver. So, when her husband had started for the hunt, she set out.

As soon as these two had gone away from the neighborhood, the dog made signs to his mistress to sweat him after the manner of the Indians. He had always been a good dog, and she was willing to oblige him. She accordingly made a lodge just large enough for him to creep in. She then put in heated stones and poured water upon them, raising a vapor that filled the lodge and searched with its warmth to the very heart's core of the enchanted dog.

When this had been kept up for the customary time, the enchanted dog was completely sweated away, and out came in his stead a very handsome young man. But unhappily he was without the power of speech. In taking away the form of the dog, it appears that the sweating-lodge had also carried off his voice with it.

Meantime the elder sister had reached her father's lodge and had told him with much circumstance and a very long face how her sister was supporting an idle dog, and entertaining him as her husband. In her anxiety to make known her sister's affairs and the great scandal she was bringing upon the family, the elder sister forgot to say anything of the sticks and stones which her own husband brought home for bears and beavers. The old man listening to his daughter and suspecting that there was magic about, sent a deputation of young men and women to ask his younger daughter to come to him and to bring her dog along with her. When the deputation reached the lodge, they were surprised to find in the place of the dog a fine young man; and on announcing their message, they all returned to the old chief, who was no less surprised at the change.