The stranger put two hundred salmon in one corner of his bag, two hundred more in the other, two hundred in the middle—all large fish—and the bottom of the bag was hardly covered. He twisted the top of the bag then, and tied it. Nodal Monoko had a beaver-skin quiver. In this he was carrying five great baskets of acorns, each basket holding three bushels, and these acorns filled only the very tip of the beaver tail.
He went down to the river to swim across.
“He cannot cross the river with that bag and quiver,” said Keriha.
At the edge of the water Nodal Monoko took the bag and quiver in one hand, and swam across with the other.
The two brothers stayed fishing at Tsik Tepji till a day when Keriha said, “Let us go up the river, my brother.” They went to Bohem Tehil and stopped at a large tree. Keriha hung a salmon on a limb of it. “I will watch this fish,” said he “I’ll see if Hubit comes here to eat it.”
He watched that day from dawn till dark; no one came. He watched five days more; no one. Five other days, and five days more, and then five days,—twenty-one in all; he saw no one.
Next morning he was waiting, when all at once he heard a noise, and looking he saw Hubit come from the west and go to the salmon. Norwanchakus sat some distance away, watching Keriha.
“Oh, my brother,” cried Keriha, “Hubit has come. He is at the salmon. What shall I do? I want to know where Hubit lives, I want to see his house. I must follow him.”
“My brother,” answered Norwanchakus, “you say that you know more than I. You think that you know everything. You must know what to do with Hubit.”
“Oh, my brother,” said Keriha, “do not tease me. Tell me quickly what I am to do with Hubit.”