As soon as the twigs were stuck in their hair the little plum-trees began to grow, and the maidens danced with joy, and picked the juicy plums and ate them. But the trees went on growing, and the roots twisted in among the maidens’ hair and clutched their heads like iron fingers. The girls sat down, for they couldn’t carry all that weight standing. And still the trees grew, till the girls lay down on the ground and screamed for some one to come and rescue them. Presently their father came along, and he pulled his axe out of his belt and chopped off the trees, and tugged at the roots till they came off—but all the maidens’ hair came off too. By this time Lox took care to be scampering away through the wood in the shape of a coon.
When he came near the next village Lox put on a terrified face and began to run; and he rushed into the middle of the village, shouting: “The plague is coming! The plague is coming!”
All the people flocked out of their wigwams, crying: “Where is it coming from? Which way shall we fly?”
“Stay where you are and make your minds easy,” said Lox. “I have a charm that will keep off all the plagues under the sun. As soon as I have spoken the words, every man must kiss the girl nearest him.” Then he stretched up his hands toward the sun and said some gibberish; and when he stopped and let his arms fall, each man made a rush and kissed the girl who happened to be nearest.
But there were not quite as many girls as there were men, and one old bachelor was so slow and clumsy that every girl had been kissed before he could catch one.
“Never mind,” said Lox cheerfully. “You go to the next village and try again.”
So the old bachelor set out, plod, plod, plodding through the woods. But Lox turned himself into a coon again, and scampered from tree to tree, and got first to the village. When he told the people the plague was coming, and they asked how they could avoid it, he said: “When I have spoken my charm, all the girls must set upon any stranger that comes to the village, and beat him.” Then he flung his arms up and began talking his gibberish. Presently the old bachelor came up, hot and panting, and stood close to the handsomest girl he could see, all ready to kiss her as soon as the charm ended. But as soon as Lox finished, the maidens all set upon the stranger, and beat him till he ran away into the woods.
Then the people made a great feast for Lox; and when he had eaten his fill of deer-meat and honey, he marched off to play his tricks somewhere else. He had not gone very far when he came to the Kulloo’s nest. Now the Kulloo was the biggest of the birds, and when he spread his wings he made night come at noonday; and he built his nest of the biggest pine-trees he could find, instead of straws. The Kulloo was away, but his wife was at home trying to hatch her eggs. Lox was not hungry; but he turned himself into a serpent, and crept into the nest and under Mrs. Kulloo’s wing, and bit a hole in every egg and ate up the little Kulloos. When he had done this, he was so heavy and stupid that he couldn’t walk very far before he had to lie down and go to sleep.
Presently the Kulloo came home.
“How are you getting on, my dear?” he said.