When the young man reached the village he scarcely dared to go near his father’s wigwam; but his father saw him coming, and ran to meet him, calling out in a hurry; “What have you brought? What have you brought?”
“I have brought nothing, father; nothing at all,” said the boy.
His father was angrier than ever, and in the morning he said: “Come with me. No more bow and arrows for you, and not a bite to eat, till I have taught you to be a hunter like any other good Indian.” So he took his son into the middle of the forest, and there built for him a little wigwam, with no door, only a little hole in the side.
“There!” said his father, when the young man was inside, and the wigwam was laced up tight. “When you have lived and fasted in this wigwam for twelve days, the spirit of a hunter will come into you.”
Every day the young man’s father came to see him, and every day the young man begged for food, till at last, on the tenth day, he could only beg in a whisper.
“No!” said his father. “In two days more you can both hunt and eat.”
On the eleventh day, when the father came and spoke to his son, he got no answer. Looking through the hole, he saw the lad lying as if he was dead on the ground; but when he called out aloud his son awoke, and whispered: “Father, bring me food! Give me some food!”
“No,” said his father. “You have only one day more to wait. To-morrow you will hunt and eat.” And he went away home to the village.
On the twelfth day the father came loaded with meal and meat. As he came near to the wigwam he heard a curious chirping sound, and when he looked through the hole in the wigwam he saw his son standing up inside, and painting his breast with bright red paint.
“What are you doing, my son? Come and eat! Here is meal and meat for you. Come and eat and hunt like a good Indian.”