When Norwanchakus had finished, the boy bowed his head and said “Yes” to him. “You men have long ropes, but they were too short. My rope may not reach the sky, but I will try;” and he started.
Tsiwihl’s breast and stomach were as blue now as the sky, and blood was trickling from his eyes, he had looked so long and so hard. After the boy was some distance up, those below could not see him, and they said to Tsiwihl, “Tell us, tell us often what he is doing.”
After a while Tsiwihl said: “He is almost as high as the others were. He is as high; he is as high as the highest was.”
They looked at his rope. There seemed to be more than when he started. It seemed to grow all the time.
“He is higher than any—he is going and going.”
“Do not lose sight of him,” said Norwanchakus.
Tsiwihl’s eyes were full of blood.
“How much rope is there?” asked Norwanchakus.
“Oh, there is plenty of rope,” cried the others.
“He is going and going,” said Tsiwihl.