“Will you play for the girl?” asked Blaiwas.
Kalaslákkas didn’t speak; he hung down his head. He was ashamed. Blaiwas asked him a second time. He didn’t answer. Then Blaiwas asked for the last time: “Well, what will you do?”
“I will play for her,” said the young man, “but if I win I will stop playing; I will never gamble again.”
“If you win her, I shall be glad,” said his grandmother. “My body is worn out; she will take care of me.”
“How many games must I play to get her?” asked Kalaslákkas.
“You must win ten games from us,” said old Kletcowas.
Kalaslákkas played the ten games and won the girl.
Tusasás said: “I could have won the girl long ago, if they had let me play.”
“Keep still,” said Dúduois, “or you will no longer be a living person.”
“Let him say all he wants to,” said the old woman. “This earth will punish him. This earth hears every word he says, and when a man says bad things, she throws them back to him.”