“It is your fault,” said the brothers. “When he was dead, you brought him to life.”
“I don’t hate him, I want him to live,” said Pitoíois.
That minute Wûlkûtska came puffing along. “I am sweating. It’s awful hot!” said he.
All night the brothers watched the old man for fear he would kill Pitoíois.
“You needn’t bother,” said Pitoíois. “I am willing to die, but I want to see my brothers again.”
“We will go home,” said the eldest brother.
“It makes me feel lonesome to go home. It was you who wanted to come,” said the youngest brother.
The second brother was mad; he snatched his father’s mortar and threw it into the river. The old man chased him [[330]]and threw the pounder at him; it just missed him. The young man picked it up and threw it back. It hit the old man and killed him, for his mortar was in the water and he was getting weak. The brothers were glad that he was dead.
“I can’t do without the old man,” said little Tskel, and he began to cry.
Pitoíois was sorry for Tskel. When the youngest brother saw how sorry Pitoíois and Tskel were, he asked Pitoíois if she could do anything to bring the old man to life.