“Uncle, I have come to talk with you, to let you know where I am going.”
“You would better eat first,” said Jupka; and he took Juiwaiyu in his arms, smoothed his hair, and was glad to look at him.
“You are tired, my nephew; you are hungry; you must eat.”
“I am not hungry; I have no time to wait; I am in a great hurry.”
“Where are you going, my nephew?” asked Jupka.
“I had a dream last night, my uncle; I dreamed of two sisters, daughters of Damhauja.”
“You would better stay at home. My nephew, stay at home; you would better not go for those sisters. Forget them; don’t think of those girls,” said Jupka. “If you go, you will never come back. The place where they live is a bad one; every stranger gets killed who goes there. I have seen many men on the way to Damhauja’s; many a man has passed here to look for those sisters, but never have I seen any come back with or without a woman. I have been in that country myself, I know it well. I had to fight for my life there, and came near being killed. I am many times stronger than you, know people better than you do, and I would not go to that country.”
“No matter what kind of country that is, no matter what kind of people live in it, I must find those two sisters. I have dreamt of them. There is no use in trying to hold me back. I must go; I cannot stop, I cannot help myself.”
“Well,” said Jupka, “if you must go, I will go with you; you would be lost without me. I must save you, my nephew. I will make myself small; you can put me on your head, you can tie me up in your hair easily.”
The old man made himself small, and Juiwaiyu put him on the top of his head, bound him firmly in his hair, bound him so that no one could see him. Then he went up on the sweat-house and turned toward the sun.