Kûlta was frightened; he was afraid of the sisters. He went to old man Witkátkis, and said: “You must come and talk to my son.”—Witkátkis was a great kiúks.
When Witkátkis looked at the young man, blood came out of his own mouth, and he said: “You are going to die. You will follow your wife, and when you get where those sisters live your blood will spread over the ground.”
The next morning the sisters told their father to make them bark sticks. He made five, and gave one to each girl. “Why didn’t you talk to them over the fire?” asked the youngest sister.
“You can talk to them yourself,” said the old man.
They built fires around the mountain, then they put the sticks on one of the fires, and said: “Draw to us those men who made fun of us.” The eldest sister said to her stick: “I want Blaiwas’ son to be here before me.” Each sister, except the youngest, talked to her stick in the same way; then they asked the youngest sister: “Why don’t you talk to your stick?”
“I have nothing to tell it,” said she. While they were hunting, her bowstring broke. She felt lonesome; she knew something was going to happen.
Kûlta’s father tied a stone knife on his son’s arm, and said: [[167]]“Don’t let old Kúja have this unless he will take you for his son-in-law.”
When the young man got to the house, the old woman hurried off to tell her daughters that he had come. The youngest sister began to cry; the eldest sister said: “We will kill him and throw him out.” The old woman screamed: “Let him alone! He isn’t one of the men who made fun of you.” But they ran in, caught hold of Kûlta, pounded him hard; pounded him till he died, then they threw him out.
The youngest sister put ashes on her head and tied a blanket around herself, as a woman does when she mourns for her husband. She told her mother to take Kûlta’s body off and put sticks over it.
Down in Blaiwas’ village, old Witkátkis said: “In a dream I saw fresh blood spread on the ground. Kûlta is dead!”