“How shall I get at that Hubit?” asked Keriha of his brother.
“Go south to a level valley where sakkus grows. Get the tops of that plant.”
Keriha brought plenty of sakkus tops quickly.
“Go now to Halat Pom, in the east, and bring the longest vines possible.”
Keriha brought ten very long vines and made a rope of them, and tied it around a great bundle of sakkus tops, to which he set fire, and then lowered the bundle. He stopped the door with grass and sticks. Soon there was a great rumbling, struggling, and roaring in Hubit’s house. After a while it stopped and all was still.
“Now, my brother,” said Keriha, “Hubit is dead, and I am going to have his honeycombs.”
He took a large sharp stone, drew a great circle around the entrance to Hubit’s house, and said: “You, Hubit’s honeycomb, be as large as this circle is. Now, my brother,” said he, “you can go to Bohem Tehil. I will come soon.”
Norwanchakus went home. Keriha began to dig, found many combs, dug till night, stayed all night in Hubit’s house—stayed there digging honey and eating, for twenty-five days.
Norwanchakus waited at home for his brother, waited that evening till midnight, waited till morning, saw no sign of Keriha. He waited the next day; then two, three, five days; then twenty days more.
“Well,” said Norwanchakus, “I can do nothing. Perhaps he is dead, perhaps he is working yet.”