The brothers saw that she had a great many hearts on a string around her neck. They drew her to the shore then, and carried her home. They left the body hidden outside the house, and went in.
“We did not see her,” said the elder Tsanunewa to his grandmother.
All sat down to eat fish, and when they were through eating, the elder said to Tsore Jowa, “Come out and see what we caught this morning.”
She ran out with them, and saw her dead sister with a string of hearts on her neck. Tsore Jowa took off her buckskin skirt, wrapped up the body, and put it in the house. She counted the hearts.
“My eldest brother’s heart is not here, and my father’s is not here,” said she.
“Every morning we hear some one crying, far away toward the north; that may be one of them,” said the two Tsanunewas.
Tsore Jowa started out to find this one, if she could, who was calling. She left the body and hearts at the old grandmother’s house, and hurried off toward the north. She heard the cry soon and knew it. “That is my father,” said she.
Tsore Jowa came near the place from which the cry rose; saw no one. Still she heard the cry. At last she saw a face; it was the face of Juka, her father.
Tsore Jowa took a sharp stick and dug. She dug down to Juka’s waist; tried to pull him up, but could not stir him. She dug again, dug a good while; pulled and pulled, until at last she drew him out.
Juka was very poor, all bones, no flesh at all on him. Tsore Jowa put down a deerskin, wrapped her father in it, and carried him to the old woman’s house; then she put him with Haka Lasi’s body, and carried them home to the old burned sweat-house east of Jigulmatu.