They ran on with Ongwe Ias following them closely. After a while he heard them growling fiercely and found that they had stopped at a pile of bones. Seizing his club, Ongwe Ias pounded the bones, saying, “I have eaten your flesh long ago and still you try to deceive me.” Then, calling his dogs, he set them on the trail made by Hodadeñon when he went to put up the second lot of manikins. The dogs ran around with Ongwe Ias closely following them and singing, “There are no dogs like mine; there are no dogs like mine.” It was not long before they came to a manikin in the crotch of a tree. Seeing the drawn bow and arrow Ongwe Ias said, “Oh, he will kill one of my dogs.” At that instant the manikin shot an arrow and one of the dogs dropped dead. Then Ongwe Ias shot an arrow into the manikin, which fell to the ground. He shouted at the dogs, “Do not eat the flesh! Do not eat the flesh!” Thereupon they let the body go, but he found that it was made merely of bits of red willow.
Starting again on the trail, the dogs ran around for a long time in every direction over the island. Finally Ongwe Ias heard the two surviving dogs barking fiercely; they were at the bones again. Coming up, he shouted: “Why do you deceive me? Long ago I ate your flesh. Why do you trouble me now?” and, seizing his club, he pounded the bones savagely.
A third time he set out with his two dogs on a trail. The dogs followed this until they came to a tree in which was a manikin. This figure shot one of the dogs, killing it. Then Ongwe Ias shot the manikin, which fell to the ground a mass of rotten wood. [[221]]
At this time day began to dawn. The Ongwe Ias said to himself, “I shall go home now. When it is night again I shall return and I shall be sure of the game.” So bringing his dead dogs to life and taking them into his canoe he sailed away.
Hodadeñon in his hiding place heard the chasing during the entire night, the barking of the dogs and the shouting of the Ongwe Ias; also the sounds made by the club striking his uncle, the bones. When daylight had come and all was quiet Hodadeñon, emerging from his hiding place, returned to his uncle, who welcomed him with the words: “Well, my nephew, you are alive yet. So will you now go to bring my pouch to me, and let me have a smoke, and I will tell you then what to do next.” Hodadeñon quickly fetched the pouch and filled the pipe with tobacco and, lighting it, he placed it in the mouth of his uncle, who smoked with great pleasure, letting the smoke come out of every suture in his skull and through its eye sockets and nose and ear openings. The uncle said to his nephew, “I thank you for this smoke. Now take the pouch back, and when you return we will talk over our troubles.” Hodadeñon carefully concealed the pouch, and when he returned to his uncle he was ready to hear what he must do next.
The uncle then said to him, “Now go to the place where the canoe of Ongwe Ias usually makes a landing; there dig a hole in the shore and bury yourself in the sand, leaving only the tip of your nose out. When Shagowenotha lands and hurries away to the opposite side of the island, you must get up quickly and board the canoe and have the ducks paddle you back to the mainland. So, nephew, take courage and you will win.”
While Hodadeñon was covering himself he heard Shagowenotha singing to the ducks as they paddled him over the water. Soon he heard the canoe ground on the sandy shore and a voice saying, “I shall now go to the place where my nephew has spilled his blood.” Paying strict attention to the advice of his uncle, the bones, Hodadeñon knew exactly what to do next. As soon as Shagowenotha was out of sight Hodadeñon arose quickly, and, calling the ducks, he pushed the canoe back into the water; then he began to sing, “Now we paddle, my ducks; now we paddle, my ducks.” The ducks paddled so swiftly that the canoe fairly flew over the water. The canoe was far out on the lake when Ongwe Ias saw it. At once he rushed to the beach and called out, “Let me get aboard! Let me get aboard!”
Hodadeñon heard but paid no attention to this entreaty; on the contrary, turning to the monsters dwelling in the depths of the lake, he said, “If Shagowenotha should try to swim after me, do you devour him.” Then from the water came a confusion of voices saying hoarsely, “It shall be done; it shall be done.” [[222]]
Shagowenotha ran up and down the shore, but he could not make his escape. When night came he climbed a tall tree. With the coming of thick darkness the Ongwe Ias came with his three dogs—he had restored to life the two that had been killed by the manikins—and he began at once to chase around with them to find traces of Hodadeñon, for he thought that he was still on the island. At last the dogs led him to the tree in which Shagowenotha had sought shelter. The dogs barked furiously at Shagowenotha in the tree. When Ongwe Ias came up Shagowenotha cried out, “Oh, do not shoot me! I am Shagowenotha.” Ongwe Ias tauntingly replied, “You may call yourself Shagowenotha, but you can not fool me,” and let fly an arrow at the Shagowenotha, who tumbled to the ground dead. Then Ongwe Ias carried off the body and cast it into the canoe, after which he paddled away.
The next morning Hodadeñon said, “Now I shall go to the lodge of Ongwe Ias.” Pushing the canoe out from the shore, he began to sing for the ducks, which came and paddled the canoe until almost evening, when Hodadeñon saw woods on the shore and a lodge standing near the water. Bringing the canoe to the beach, he hid it under the water; then he said to the ducks, “You may go your way until I call for you.” A woman came out of the lodge carrying two pieces of bark, and called to Hodadeñon to remain in the water, where he had sunk the canoe. Going to him, she placed a piece of bark at the water’s edge, telling Hodadeñon to step on it; then putting down the next piece of bark, she asked him to step on that. Then she put the first piece before the second, and then the second before the first, and Hodadeñon kept stepping on bark until at last he reached the lodge without leaving a single track on the ground. When they were in the lodge Hodadeñon said to the woman: “I have come after you. I am your brother. What will you do?” She replied, “I will go with you, but you must remain here until midday to-morrow.” Under her couch was a smaller one, in which she put her brother; then replacing her own over it, she sat on the top.