Norwanchakus said nothing.
“I am getting angry. If you cannot tell me what to do, I will kill Hubit to-morrow.”
“Why kill Hubit? You have teased him a long time; tease him a little longer. How will you find Hubit’s house, if you kill him?”
“Hubit, will you bite this salmon?” asked Keriha, next morning. “I have bothered long enough. Will you bite to-day?” He put the salmon to Hubit’s mouth. Hubit bit a little. Keriha lifted the salmon with Hubit on it, and threw it in the air to make Hubit fly. All came down like a stone. Keriha threw it a second time. It fell again. He tried all day.
“I don’t know what kind of man that Hubit is; he won’t eat, he won’t talk, won’t go home, won’t do anything,” said Keriha.
Next morning he said to Hubit: “Hubit, what kind of person are you? I wish you would go home.”
But Hubit wouldn’t go without the salmon, and wouldn’t take it for fear that Keriha would follow him. Keriha threw him up again with the salmon. Again he fell with the salmon, and he teased Hubit for five days more. On the sixth morning Hubit began to eat.
“Ah, you are eating!” said Keriha; “will you go to-day?”
He threw the salmon; it fell again. Five days more he tried. Hubit would eat, but wouldn’t fly. Now he had tried twenty days more. On the twentieth evening he said to Norwanchakus, “I will kill Hubit to-morrow.”
“Oh, you are not angry,” said Norwanchakus. “Play with him a little longer. You want to know everything, to see everything, to have everything. You ought to find out what he means; he has some reason for doing as he does.”