“I don’t want him; he has enough of my beads.” One after another, the brothers got ready, but Tekewas refused each one. “No,” said she, “you have had enough of Kûlta’s beads. I want Tûtats to go with me.”
“Who is he?” asked her mother.
“You know that you can’t fool me. I have a young brother; [[97]]I want him to go with me. It is getting late; where is he?” Every time Tekewas turned her body she talked to the sun, told it to go quick, so it would be dark soon.
Her brothers didn’t want her to stay all night, so they took the basket from under the ground, and got Tûtats ready to go. They let down his hair and combed it. It was blue and beautiful, and reached to his feet. He cried all the time they were combing it, for he didn’t want to go with his sister. When she started, he walked behind her, crying.
Tekewas talked to the sun, told it to go down, scolded it to make it hurry. The sun was scared and it went as though it were sliding down a slippery place. When they came to a clump of cedar trees, it was already dark. Tekewas stopped and said: “We will camp here.”
“It is too near,” said Tûtats; he was crying.
“It is too dark to follow the trail,” said Tekewas. She built a fire and gave Tûtats roots from her basket. After eating, he lay down on one side of the fire and she on the other; then she thought: “Let him go to sleep quick.” When he was asleep, she went over to lie by him.
He woke and got up; he was still crying. “Let her sleep till I get half-way to the sky,” said he to himself. He found a log, put it by his sister’s side, and told it to keep her asleep. Then he hurried home.
“What is the trouble?” asked his brothers. “Why did you come back?”
“I don’t like my sister. I left her asleep. When she wakes up she will come to kill us. We must get away from here.”