“Build a good fire,” said he to the women when he reached home that night. “Give me four big water-baskets.” They gave the baskets. He filled these with water, and put hot rocks in them. Then he emptied the ten otter-skins into the water.
“Stay all night in your houses. Let no one put a head out. I will stay in the sweat-house,” said he.
The four baskets boiled hard. Just at daylight the largest basket fell over; then the second, the third, and the fourth fell. After that there were voices all around the sweat-house, hundreds upon hundreds of them.
“We are cold; open the door,” cried the voices.
When full daylight had come, Chichepa opened the door, and all hurried in. Jewinna came first, and with him his son. All followed them, dressed as they had been when they went to Kedila’s; all alive and well, strong and healthy. Jewinna laughed. He was glad.
On the way home Kedila’s two daughters had two sons, the sons of Jewinpa. The boys were born the next day after Jewinpa had looked on their mothers. They had come from the eyes of their father. He had just looked through his fingers at Kedila’s two daughters.
After Jewinna’s son had been killed and then brought to life by Chichepa, he went east to Kedila’s great sweat-house, stayed five days and nights there, then took his two wives and two sons and went back to his father’s.
Kedila’s youngest son, born when his father was old, came to life. He had sat always at the central pillar, at the edge of the ashes, and had always kept moving his arms, but he had never danced on that or on any floor. He had burned his face because he had sat so near the fire, and had sweated often from being so near it.
Every one laughed at him; jeered at that “Burnt Face,” who sat night and day in the ashes. He spat always in one place. Kedila’s eldest son had said many times,—
“If we are killed, we shall come back to life again.”