Toward sunset they came near the place where the Ichpuls lived.
“Let us stop here,” said the elder sister, “and get something to eat. I am hungry.”
“Our father told us to pass this house; he told us not to stop near it, not to go to it, not to look at it,” said the younger sister; and she went on without looking, she went straight ahead.
The elder sister followed her, but followed unwillingly. At last both came near Sukonia’s, and saw the two bearskins hanging out over the sweat-house.
Chikpitpa, Sukonia’s little brother, was on the roof, and Tsore Jowa, his sister, was at work making a house for herself a little way off at one side. Chikpitpa ran into the house, calling loudly,—
“Two girls are coming! Two girls are coming with baskets!”
The old man, Sukonia’s father, brought bearskins for the young women to sit on, and waited. The sisters came in and took the places shown them. Chikpitpa was in a corner when the sisters sat down. He ran to one and then to the other, looked at them, sat on their laps. He was very glad that the sisters had come; he liked to be with them and talk to them.
Old Sukonia went out and called to Tsore Jowa, “Come, my daughter; bring food to our guests, to the young women who have come to us.”
She brought deer’s marrow; she brought other kinds of food, too. The sisters had put down their baskets outside, near the door. On the way they had said to the baskets, “Let the food in you be nice;” and when leaving them at the door, they said, “Be large and be full.”
The two small baskets stood outside now, very large and full of every good food. Sukonia came home with, his men about sunset. Chikpitpa sprang up to the roof of the house, and called to his brother,—