Harka took the cup and the blade of grass she offered him and strode off through the forest in the direction the witch pointed out to him. Soon he came out from the forest and found himself upon the borders of a wide lake, in the midst of which lay an island.
Harka now walked more slowly and delicately, trying to move with the soft grace of a young and timid maiden.
At the edge of the lake he stooped and dipped the cup into the water. The sunlight striking on the gold was reflected with a dazzling brightness that could be seen even as far as the island.
Scarcely had he lifted the dripping cup from the water when he saw a canoe shoot out from among the reeds of the island and come swiftly toward the spot where he was standing. In it sat the sorcerer Pahundootah, driving it forward with strong strokes.
As Harka looked at him, his heart beat heavy within him, for the sorcerer was terrible to see, so hideous and cruel and treacherous was his appearance.
But the youth managed to hide his feelings and turned aside with the shy and downcast air of a timid maiden, and moved slowly toward the forest. Charmed by his grace and beauty, Pahundootah followed him. He praised the pretended maiden’s eyes, her lips, her hair, the grace with which she moved, and poured words of love into Harka’s ears, begging him to return with him to his island home and share his lodge, his food, and fire.
Harka pretended to hesitate, but finally he allowed himself to be persuaded, and entering the canoe, he sat down opposite the sorcerer, giving him shy glances and trailing his hand through the water.
Pahundootah was as one bewitched. Hardly could he take his eyes from Harka’s beauty. With strong strokes he drove the canoe through the water and over to the island. Then he took Harka’s hand and led him to where a fire was burning and an old hag was cooking supper. He spread a robe for his love to sit on and threw himself at her feet. The hag who was his mother watched them, muttering. Again and again she looked suspiciously at Harka. At last the supper was cooked. She called Harka to come and carry a bowl of it to the sorcerer. Harka moved toward her softly, trying still to bear himself as a maiden, but the old woman watched him suspiciously, and as he drew nearer she looked deep into his eyes.
“Pahundootah,” she cried, “what magic has bewitched you? Can you not see that this is no maiden, but a brave and daring warrior who has put on this appearance in order to deceive you?”
Pahundootah sprang to his feet and looked at Harka with anger and suspicion, but Harka turned away his head with an offended air. “Your mother has insulted me,” he said. “She is angry because you have brought me here and because you have spoken to me of love. Now I will go away back to my own tribe where I will be free from insults.”