“Where is your fire?” asked the chief.
“I have none; Chil Wareko took my fire,” said Ahalamila.
“Where is your fire?” asked the chief.
“Chil Wareko took it,” said Metsi.
The chief was very sorry, and all the people were sorry. The old woman did not come, and the people said, “She must be frozen dead.”
At sundown old Shushu came back; she came very slowly, was terribly tired, but courageous. She reached the sweat-house, came in, said nothing, lay down wet and cold.
“Where is the fire?” asked she; “did not Ahalamila and Metsi bring fire? They are young and strong, and had plenty of fire.”
After a while she stood up, drew some wood-dust together, then sat down, opened her ear and held it over the dust; a big piece of fire came out. Wood was brought quickly, and soon the whole sweat-house was warm. The people who were cold before were warm now and glad.
“Bring meat and we will try how it tastes when ’tis roasted,” said the chief.
He cut some venison and roasted it. One and another tasted the meat. “It is very good,” said they; a third one said, “I’ll try it,” and Gagi took a taste. “Oh, it is sweet, very good,” said Gagi.