Isigâligârssik ran quickly home to his house, and said to his wife’s mother:
“Go quickly now and take the dress I wore when I was little.[1] It is in the chest there.”
And when she took it out, it was so small that it did not look like a dress at all, but it was very pretty. And he ordered her then to dip it in the water bucket. When it was wet, he was able to put it on, and when the lacing thong at the bottom touched the wound, it was healed.
Now when his house-fellows came out after the spirit-calling they thought to find him lying dead outside the entrance. They followed the blood spoor, and at last he had gone into the house. When they came in, he had not a single wound, and all were very glad for that he was healed again. And now he said:
“To-morrow I will go bow-shooting with him.”
Then they slept, and awakened, and Isigâligârssik opened his little chest and searched it, and took out a bow that was so small it could hardly be seen in his hands. He strung that bow, and went out, and said:
Wizard preparing for a “spirit flight.” He is bound head to knees and hands behind; the magic drum resting on his foot is beating itself. Bird’s wings are fastened to his back.
To face p. 50.