“Go straight south to a level place, get a pawit, and bring it. I will watch Hubit while you are gone.”
Keriha brought some pawit quickly. “Now what shall I do?”
“Stick one tuft in the salmon’s tail, and fasten it well,” said Norwanchakus. “Let Hubit carry off the fish. You can see the tuft far away, and follow.”
Keriha fastened the tuft to the salmon, gave the fish to Hubit, and watched. Hubit wouldn’t bite, wouldn’t taste. Keriha tried all day to make him taste the salmon, tried a second day, tried five days. Hubit wouldn’t even bite it. On the sixth day Keriha said,—
“Hubit, why are you here? I thought you came to eat salmon, but now you will not taste it.”
Keriha talked five days more to Hubit, ten days in all. “Hubit, I wish you would eat some fish and take home the rest.” Hubit made no answer.
Five days more Keriha teased him, and then five days longer, twenty days in all.
“Hubit,” said Keriha on the twenty-first day, “tell me what you are going to do; I’d like to know;” and he pushed him. Not a word from Hubit. “Are you asleep or dead?” asked Keriha. “Hubit, you make me so angry that I want to kill you.”
All these days Keriha had watched Hubit from daylight till dark, giving him no chance to steal the fish, and Hubit wanted salmon so much that he would not go without it. Norwanchakus sat watching Keriha.
“My brother,” said Keriha, “I cannot make that Hubit take the salmon; what shall I do? Tell me.”