“Go ahead,” said Tulchuherris, “show me the nest.”
The tree was a mile away. Sas went to it and stopped. Tulchuherris stood near. Both looked up, and Sas asked, “Do you see the nest?”
The tree was very straight, and so high that they could hardly see the top of it; the trunk was as smooth as ice.
“My father-in-law,” said Tulchuherris. “I do not think that I can go up there; I do not believe that I can climb the tree.”
“You can climb it if I help you,” said Sas, who took out a rope made of single hairs tied end to end, a great many of them tied together, hairs from the heads of his daughters. He threw the rope very high over a limb near the nest, and said: “Now, my son-in-law, I will hold the rope; you climb.”
Tulchuherris began to climb the rope. He went up, up, up, till he reached the limb and stood on it. Sas was on the ground, holding the other end of the rope. When Tulchuherris let go his hold, Sas pulled the rope down, and left Tulchuherris on the limb very high in the air. Sas turned home. When a short distance he said,—
“Now, Tulchuherris, you are nobody. Your grandmother, Nomhawena, is old. She dug you out of the ground with a root stick. You grew up in her petticoat. You are not strong, you are not wise, you are only Tulchuherris. I am Sas.”
When Tulchuherris looked down he was terrified, it was so far to the ground.
“My brother,” said Winishuyat, “we shall get down. Lengthen the pointed bone which you have, and go higher.”
Tulchuherris went to the nest, looked in, and saw a great many heads peeping out in every direction,—all heads of rattlesnakes. He looked awhile; could not think what to do.