“I will go up first on the sweat-house,” said Maibyu; “you are too heavy, your tread is heavy. If you go, they will hear you, they will wake up; we shall be killed, like the ten who came before us.”
“I know the man who watches the girls,” said Maibyu; “he whistles all night, but he sleeps; no one in the sweat-house sleeps more soundly than he does. Now, when he is asleep, I will go down and take the girls from him.”
“I will go myself,” said Itchi Watibila.
Haka Kaina’s people danced that evening, and played till late at night. Hwipajusi’s ten men crept near and watched the people dancing, but no one saw them. Haka Kaina sat inside the sweat-house, smoking and talking, talking loud; the ten heard his voice. At last, when it was late, all the men went into the sweat-house and other houses, and in time they were asleep everywhere. All were silent except Hohwitina, who sat watching the girls at the central pillar; and he whistled all the time.
The ten went around the sweat-house; saw that all were sleeping. They heard no noise but the whistling of Hohwitina.
“I know that he is asleep now,” said Itchi Watibila.
Four men went to the top of the sweat-house. The watcher was whistling not so loudly, but whistling. Itchi Watibila gave his arrows to Chini Pachuna, and Chini Pachuna gave them to Maibyu, for he had to lift up the girls.
“That man sleeps, I know,” said Itchi Watibila; and he went down slowly along the pillar, reached the bottom, and sat a while to listen. He looked closely at Hohwitina, and saw that he was whistling with his eyes shut. Itchi Watibila laughed to himself. He saw that one girl was tied to each of Hohwitina’s arms and one to his waist from behind. The girls were awake, all three of them.
Itchi Watibila untied the right-hand girl carefully; raised her to Chini Pachuna, who gave her to Maibyu at the top of the sweat-house. Hohwitina whistled on, and Itchi Watibila took the left-hand girl, raised her to the other man; at last he took the third, the youngest daughter of Hwipajusi, made no noise, raised her to the others, then climbed up himself, rested a moment on the top of the sweat-house, looked down. Hohwitina was whistling away and asleep all the time. The ten slipped down without noise and started home; hurried off toward the south with Hwipajusi’s three daughters.
Old Haka Kaina rose up at daylight, walked around the sweat-house, went to the central pillar to look at Hohwitina and the three girls he was guarding. He saw Hohwitina, heard how he was whistling, saw nobody near him,—no girls tied to his arms or his waist.