“I don’t know where your cap is.”
“Tell me quickly. I am almost dead.”
“I don’t know; you always take it with you. What have you done with it?”
“I shall die. I want it now. Hurry and find it! I am sleepy.” That minute he dropped on the ground, dead. The mortar was his medicine, his life.
Tskel tried to make him get up. He pushed him, and said: [[326]]“Get up, old man, your sons are coming. Don’t sleep so long.” When he didn’t move, Tskel was frightened and sorry. He ran to the creek, got the mortar and put it in the sun to dry. As soon as it was dry, he ran to the old man, and said: “Get up, grandfather; I have found your cap!” Tskel was crying.
Wûlkûtska didn’t move; he was cold and stiff. Tskel pushed him ever so many times, but he didn’t stir. Then Tskel took his own medicine, a stick that he carried behind his ear, and hit Wûlkûtska with it; he moved a little. Tskel hit him again, kept hitting him, and saying: “Get up, grandfather, get up, grandfather! Here is your cap.”
At last the old man came to life. Then Tskel said: “I hid your cap to see how I could kill you. You must never tease your daughter-in-law, for I know where your life is. If you kill her, I shall hide your cap and not get it for you.”
The old man was frightened, but his mind wasn’t changed. When he saw his sons coming, he went into the house and watched them through the cracks. When they were near, Pitoíois put down her basket. As soon as they were in the house, the old man went out to see if they had brought roots; he hunted everywhere, but couldn’t find the basket.
“Why don’t you stay in the house?” asked his son.
“I am hungry. I am hunting for what you brought. I haven’t eaten anything for two days. The first day I ate all you left in the house.”