He never took out Winishuyat, he never let any one know of him. As Tulchuherris lay on his back, he saw something over his head, hanging from the roof of the house. Two obsidian knives were hanging together by a very slender string of the inner bark of maple. Tulchuherris fell asleep and slept until midnight. He was roused then by Winishuyat, who said to him,—
“Oh, my brother, wake up. The string holding the knives is ready to break. Wake up, my brother, wake up!”
Tulchuherris woke up.
“Turn over! turn over!” said Winishuyat.
Tulchuherris turned in a flash. That instant the knives fell, struck the ground just at his back, and were broken to pieces, both knives at once.
This was another way of killing people. Strangers always slept soundly on that bed with Sas’s daughters, were struck while asleep by two knives in the heart, and died the same moment.
Next morning after the knives fell, Sas rose and said,—
“Rise up, my son-in-law. I have a small sweat-house out here. I go there to sweat every morning, and then to the river to swim. I swim in the river every morning. We will sweat, and then swim.”
Sas went ahead, he was first in the sweat-house. He made a very hot fire of the bones of people whom he had killed,—there were piles of those bones around everywhere. Tulchuherris went out of Saskewil into the sweat-house.
“Now, my brother,” said Winishuyat, when they were at one side in the sweat-house, “this is the place where Sas has killed many people who escaped in the house. He will smoke you to death if he can.”