Now, on the top of his sweat-house, at the central pillar, Hwipajusi had posted Matsklila as a sentry, and he watched carefully to see who would come. Hwipajusi knew that Haka Kaina would try to get the girls back again. Matsklila had a knife in his nose and one in each arm.
Bohkwi and Simu Nupchowa set out to bring the girls back from the south. Just at sunset one evening they came near the village; they saw crowds of people everywhere, young men and women at play in the great village.
Old Hwipajusi sat talking; and a great many people, old and young, men and women, sat around him and listened. Haka Kaina’s two men went near the sweat-house.
“I am going in,” said Bohkwi.
“No, I am going,” said Simu Nupchowa. “You cannot run fast. You stand near, and when I come out you run ahead, and I can carry the three girls easily. I will catch up with you.”
The people sat there near the sweat-house and listened to the chief as he talked. “Be on the watch; they will come to-night, they will come, I am sure,” said Hwipajusi.
After a time all separated, went to their houses, and lay down to sleep. At midnight, when all was silent, Haka Kaina’s two men crept up and climbed the sweat-house to look in at the top. Matsklila was at his post behind the central pillar, standing still. Haka Kaina’s men did not see him.
“I will look in,” said Bohkwi.
“So will I,” said Simu Nupchowa.
They stretched their heads and looked. They leaned over the opening, stretched their necks far. That moment Matsklila moved quickly, and both their heads dropped off, rolled down, and fell to the earth outside the sweat-house.