Note 53 — FICTION (continued 4)

After a time the youth killed any kind of game he wished. One day he said to himself: “I wonder what there is near the setting sun? I will go to see for myself.” He had not gone far before he came to a clearing, in which he saw a cabin that seemed to be empty. Everything was quiet around it. Creeping up cautiously, he peeped in; an old man was sitting there with his head bent upon his breast. The latter instantly called out, “Well, nephew,53 have you come?” Knowing that he was discovered (by sorcery), the boy answered: “Yes; I have come. I thought I would see what you are doing.” “Well, come in and wait a moment. I will get my head up,” the old man replied. Taking up a mallet and a large wooden pin that lay at his side, he drove the pin down his spinal column. Up came his head, whereupon he said, “I have a rule that when one of my nephews comes I play a game with him, and we bet.” “What do you bet?” asked the boy. “I bet my head against his,” came the reply. “All right,” said the boy. The old man dusted off the fireplace and made it smooth; then he shook the bowl and plum pits. The agreement was that the first who turned the plum pits all of one color was to be the winner. The old man said, “You must throw first.” “No,” said the boy, “you proposed the game; now you must play first.” At last the old man agreed to this. As he shook the bowl the six plum pits flew out of the smoke hole. When they got outside they turned into birds, which flew off out of hearing. By and by the boy heard them again; down into the bowl they rolled as plum pits. Bending over, the old man stirred and stirred them, repeating, “Let them be white; let them be white!” But he could not get them all of one color. At last he ceased his efforts. Then the boy threw his own dice, and, like the others, they went out of the smoke hole and, turning into birds, flew off. Thereupon the old man began to stir the dish, saying, “I wish this, I wish that.” Down came the birds as plum pits. Then both stirred them, repeating, “I wish this, I wish that,” and they all turned to one color. When the old man saw that he had lost the game he wished to play once more. “Oh, no,” said the boy; “that is not the rule.” “Well, let me smoke once more,” begged the old man. “No,” the boy said, and, catching up a tomahawk, he cut off the old man’s forfeited head. Afterward he set the cabin afire. Later he went home, but said nothing about his adventure.