“Sun, O Sun, I wish you to be slow,” said he. “I must go very far; I wish the day to last long.”
“I will tell you now of the road,” said Jupka. “When you come near a small mountain east of Wahkalu, there will be three roads there before you; one on the right hand very narrow. You can hardly see that road, it is so little beaten, but you must find it, for you cannot go by another. There is a middle road, smooth and wide; you will see fresh clover scattered on the road, just as if women had carried some over and dropped a little here and there. If you go over that road, you will be killed by lice and wind. On the left hand is a road; if you take that, you will lose yourself and never reach any place.”
“I will sing now,” said Juiwaiyu, “and my song will be heard everywhere, north, south, east, and west.”
He began, and rose in the air as he sang; he rose, and as he moved forward, the whole world heard him; every one looked up to see who was singing, but no one saw anything.
“That sounds like the song of Juiwaiyu,” said some of the people. “I think that is the voice of Periwiriwaiyu’s son,” said others; “I think that is he, for that’s how he sings when he travels.”
They tried to see who was singing, but saw no one. The song seemed just above them, but it was high up, very high in the air.
“Hurry, my nephew, hurry,” said Jupka; “I don’t like to camp on the journey, I want to be at that place before sunset.”
Juiwaiyu sang faster now; he could not move without singing. He moved swiftly, and soon they were east of Wahkalu.
“Look down carefully,” said Jupka; “if you see clover scattered on a road, you must not go over it. Go over that road on the right, do not look at the other.”
Damhauja had sent people to scatter clover on the middle road and entice men, make them think that the road to his sweat-house.