And as she cried, the man nearly upset—for even her words had power.
“Oh, if only I could send my harpoon through her,” cried the man in return. And so great was the power of his words that she fell down on the spot.
And then the man rowed away, and the woman never killed anyone after that, for her tail was broken.
How the Fog Came
There was a Mountain Spirit, which stole corpses from their graves and ate them when it came home. And a man, wishing to see who did this thing, let himself be buried alive. The Spirit came, and saw the new grave, and dug up the body, and carried it off.
The man had stuck a flat stone in under his coat, in case the Spirit should try to stab him.
On the way, he caught hold of all the willow twigs whenever they passed any bushes, and made himself as heavy as he could, so that the Spirit was forced to put forth all its strength.
At last the Spirit reached its house, and flung down the body on the floor. And then, being weary, it lay down to sleep, while its wife went out to gather wood for the cooking.
“Father, father, he is opening his eyes,” cried the children, when the dead man suddenly looked up.