Before leaving Tuina’s sweat-house Igupa Topa had gone into his nephew’s heart again. When Wakara came home, he took his new son-in-law to try a sport which he had. The old man had made a great pole out of deer sinews. This pole was fixed in the ground and was taller than the highest tree. Wakara played in this way: A man climbed the pole, a second bent it down and brought the top as near the foot as possible. He let the top go then, and it shot into the air. If the man on the pole held firmly, he was safe; if he lost his grip he was hurled up high, then fell and was killed.
“Come, my son-in-law,” said Wakara one day, “I will show you the place where I play sometimes pleasantly.”
They went to the place. The old man climbed first, grasped the pole near the top. Pun Miaupa pulled it down; his uncle was in his heart, and he was very strong. He brought the top toward the ground, did not draw very hard, and let the pole fly back, again. It sprang into the air. Wakara was not hurled away; he held firmly. Pun Miaupa brought down the pole a second time, he brought it down rather softly, and let it go. Wakara held his place yet. He tried a third time. Wakara was unshaken.
“That will do for me,” said Wakara. “Go up now; it is your time.”
Pun Miaupa went on the pole and held with his uncle’s power. It was not he who held the pole, but Igupa Topa. “I will end you this time,” thought Wakara. He bent the pole close to the ground and let go. Wakara looked sharply to see his son-in-law
shoot through the air,—looked a good while,
did not see him. “My son-in-law has gone very high,” thought he. He looked a while yet in the sky; at last he looked at the pole, and there was his son-in-law.
He bent the pole a second time, bent it lower than before; then let it fly. This time Wakara looked at the pole, and Pun Miaupa was on the top of it.
Wakara was angry. He bent the pole to the ground, bent angrily, and let it go. “He will fly away this time, surely,” thought he, and looked to the sky to see Pun Miaupa, did not see him; looked at the pole, he was on it. “What kind of person is my son-in-law?” thought Wakara.
It was Wakara’s turn now to go on the pole, and he climbed it. Pun Miaupa gave his father-in-law a harder pull this time, but he held his place. The second time Pun Miaupa spoke to Wakara in his own mind: “You don’t like me, I don’t like you; you want to kill me. I will send you high now.”
He bent the pole, brought the top almost to the foot of it, and let it fly. He looked to the top, Wakara was gone. He had been hurled up to the sky, and he stayed there.
Pun Miaupa laughed. “Now, my father-in-law,” said he, “you will never come down here to live again; you will stay where you are now forever, you will become small and die, then you will come to life and grow large. You will be that way always, growing old and becoming young again.”