“Who is that?” asked the elder brother.
“I don’t know,” answered the younger.
Soon they saw Haka Lasi spring up on the water and call. She had a large string of hearts around her neck. Then she sank again in the water. Again she came up at some distance and called a second time.
Now Tsore Jowa came down from the sun and went to the old sweat-house, where she found nothing but a heap of bones and ashes. Putting pitch on her head and on her arms, and strips of deerskin around her neck with pitch on them, she cried and went around mourning. After a time she began to look for her sister. She went everywhere; went to Klamath Lake.
For some time the two Tsanunewa brothers had heard a voice singing,—
“Li-wa-éh, li-wa-há,
Li-wa-éh, li-wa-há.”
This was old Juka. He was lying in the ground where he had fallen, and was crying.
Tsore Jowa searched, inquired, asked every one about Haka Lasi, and told what she had done,— that she had killed her own brothers and father.
Tsore Jowa came at last to the house of the two Tsanunewa brothers one day about sunset, and spoke to their grandmother. “My sister, Haka Lasi, has killed all my brothers and my father,” said she; and she told the whole story.
The old woman cried when she heard what Tsore Jowa told her. The two brothers were away hunting; they came home about dark with a large string of ducks. “This woman,” said the grandmother, “is looking for her sister, who has killed all her people.”