Every morning he went away, gliding off silently into the depths of the forest and disappearing from their sight. Where he went they did not know, but every night he came again, bringing to them the choicest of game and fish. The plume above his forehead shone with strange colours, and sometimes it seemed as though the light about him came from himself, and not from the sunshine or the firelight. Neither the girl nor her mother dared to question him as to who he was or whence he came.
With so much game hanging about the lodge it was not long before Mudjee Monedo grew suspicious. He suspected that some warrior had come to live with the widow and her daughter and that they were hiding it from him. Often he stole up silently to the lodge hoping to find the hunter there, but he never saw him. At last he questioned the widow openly.
“All this game,” he said, trying to smile at her pleasantly, “where does it come from?”
The widow began to tremble. “My son—” she began.
“Your son!” interrupted the Magician. “Do you mean to tell me that your son could shoot a bear or a buffalo such as I have seen here?”
“He is very large and strong for his age,” said the poor widow.
“If he is old enough to shoot such game he is old enough to race with me,” cried the ogre. “I will come again when he is at home, and he and I will talk of it.”
The Mudjee Monedo turned on his heel and strode away through the forest, breaking the young trees and muttering to himself as he went.
The widow and her daughter were almost dead with fright. If they told the ogre of the strange warrior who had come to live in their lodge he would without doubt challenge the stranger to race with him. If they did not, it would be the boy who would be slain.