“Well,” said Ahalamila, “we see fire, we know that it is far off in the south.”
Ahalamila made the road short, and they were back at Pawi in an hour. “We have found fire,” said Ahalamila to the chief and the people. “We know where fire is, we can have fire now.”
“We must have that fire,” said the people.
“There is no way to get the fire but to go for it,” said Ahalamila.
“Well,” said the chief, “since Ahalamila saw the fire he will go for it; but the road is long. Who will go and help him? Who will go for fire with Ahalamila?”
About fifty men offered to go, and they started next morning. The journey was long and very hard. Soon two or three men were tired and went home; not long after more were tired, and when they had gone far down to a great river, just north of where the fire was, of the fifty who started only three were left,—Ahalamila, Metsi, and old Shushu Marimi.
Just south of the great river Au Mujaupa had a very big village, and in the village a large sweat-house. In that house he kept the fire, and had a great crowd of people living in the country outside who served him, and kept every one in the world from stealing his fire. These people were Patcha, Chil Wareko, Chil Daiauna, Sabil Keyu, Juhauju, Juwaju, Jukami, Jukilauju.
The three, Ahalamila, Metsi, and old Shushu Marimi, were at the northern end of the bridge, and sat there watching till all at the sweat-house was quiet. The bridge was very narrow and slippery; so Ahalamila put pitch on his feet and hands, and on Metsi’s and Shushu’s feet and hands. All three crossed without slipping, and found every one asleep in the sweat-house.
The old chief, Au Mujaupa, had covered the fire well with ashes. All was silent within and without. Ahalamila, Metsi, and Shushu crept onto the sweat-house quietly, and looked in. All were asleep.
“I will go down first,” said Metsi.