The people of the mountain saw this. “We cannot kill him,” said they; “he has too much power for us.”
“You must turn back and start where the roads part,” said Jupka. “On the right is a small narrow trail; you can barely see it, but you must find this trail. You cannot go to Damhauja’s house by another way.”
Juiwaiyu went back to where the paths parted.
“You are looking for the way,” said Jupka. “If you see a narrow little trail, that is it.”
He found that trail at last. “That is the right way,” said the uncle.
It was so narrow that Juiwaiyu was barely able to see it. He went forward easily; went fast, like a man who is running down hill. They came to the small mountain, and when Juiwaiyu was above it, he heard laughing at a distant village. “That must be the place to which we are going,” said he.
“My nephew, look out now, be careful. When you go into Damhauja’s sweat-house and sit with his daughters, he will give you a pipe filled with crushed bones of people instead of tobacco. If you breathe smoke from that pipe, you will die the next moment. With this smoke he has killed those who escaped lice and wind from the mountain.”
Juiwaiyu rested awhile, and thought of the beads he had lost. “I wish my beads would return to me,” said he. That moment the beads were on his neck. They were as beautiful as ever.
“My beads, you must not go again from me. You must stay with me, and you must be in plenty. Pahnino Marimi, I wish you to send your daughters for leaves, wood, and water. Be kind when I come to you. Do not kill me. Let us go on,” said he to his uncle.
They went forward, and soon they saw two girls, one holding the other by the hand. These girls were coming toward the mountain, swaying their hands and singing. Juiwaiyu came to the ground, hid behind a tree, and said, “Let there be wood here in plenty, wood for these women.” The wood was right there in one moment.