Sas took the pipe, but when Tulchuherris let go the old man could not hold it. It was slipping and falling. When he tried to catch it, it fell on his arm, threw him, and held him down.
Sas struggled to push the pipe off his arm, but had not strength enough. Tulchuherris looked for a moment, then reached out his hand, picked up the pipe, and asked,—
“Father-in-law, what is the matter? Take a good smoke. This is Tulchuherris’s pipe.”
Sas could not lift the pipe. Tulchuherris held it while the old man was smoking. When Sas drew in the smoke and swallowed it, it hurt him inside. The old man was choking. He fell on the ground, fell almost into the fire. His breath was taken from him. Tulchuherris put the pipe aside.
“Oh, help me up, help me, my son-in-law,” called Sas.
Tulchuherris helped him to rise, and then sat with the girls again.
“My old father, Sas,” said his elder daughter, “what is the matter? You have wanted this long time to see a man with strong arms. Why not talk now with this one? You have been waiting a long time for such a man.”
While they were sitting there, Winishuyat said: “My brother, look out for the old woman. She is going to turn—be on your guard!”
Tulchuherris was ready. The old woman had not looked around since he came. She had been sitting motionless. Now she began to turn slowly, and Tulchuherris watched her. He sat with his right hand doubled up, and before she could look into his eyes he snapped two flint finger-nails at her, sent one nail into each of her eyes and put it out. She fell dead and rolled into the fire.
Night came now, and Tulchuherris lay down on the bed prepared by Sas’s two daughters. They took their places, one on each side of him.