n a green plain some young men were playing
at ball, and along the banks of a stream were women employed in
gathering the a-puk-wa for mats.

"Do you see," asked the brother, "that group of children playing
beside a lodge? Observe that beautiful and active lad," said he, at
the same time darting something from his hand. The child immediately
fell on the ground, and was carried by his companions into the lodge.

O-na-wut-a-qut-o and his companion watched and saw the people below
gathering about the lodge. They listened to the she-she-gwau of the
meeta, to the song he sang asking that the child's life might be
spared. To this request O-na-wut-a-qut-o's companion made answer--

"Send me up the sacrifice of a white dog."

A feast was immediately ordered by the parents of the child. The
white dog was killed, his carcass was roasted, all the wise men and
medicine-men of the village assembling to witness the ceremony.

"There are many below," said O-na-wut-a-qut-o's companion, "whom you
call great in medical skill. They are so, because their ears are open;
and they are able to succeed, because when I call they hear my voice.
When I have struck one with sickness they direct the people to look to
me, and when they make me the offering I ask, I remove my hand from
off the sick person and he becomes well."

While he was saying this, the feast below had been served. Then the
master of the feast said--

"We send this to thee, Great Manito," and immediately the roasted
animal came up. Thus O-na-wut-a-qut-o and his companion got their
dinner, and after they had eaten they returned to the lodge by a
different path.

In this manner they lived for some time, but at last the youth got
weary of the life. He thought of his friends, and wished to go back to
them. He could not forget his native village and his father's lodge,
and he asked his wife's permission to return. After some persuasion
she consented.

"Since you are better pleased," she said, "with the cares and ills and
poverty of the world, than with the peaceful delights of the sky and
its boundless prairies, go. I give you my permission, and since I have
brought you hither I will conduct you back. Remember, however, that
you are still my husband. I hold a chain in my hand by which I can,
whenever I will, draw you back to me. My power over you will be in no
way diminished. Beware, therefore, how you venture to take a wife
among the people below. Should you ever do so, you