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Every day the old woman took her wooden hoe and went out to
gather them. She packed them home and dried them in the sun, for in those
days, there was no such thing as fire in that part of the world.
One day her daughter begged to go with her. "Mother, let me go and help
you; between us we can dig more potatoes than you can alone." "No, my
daughter, you stay here," said the old woman; "I don't want you to go.
Your place is at home caring for the lodge." "Oh dear! I don't like to
stay here alone all day," teased the girl; "it's so lonely when you are
gone! I'd much rather go with you. There is another old hoe here that I
can use. Please let me go too."
At last, the old woman consented to her daughter's pleading; the two armed
themselves with their tools and set out. After a little journey they came
to a damp ravine. "Here is the place where I always come to gather the
potatoes," cried the mother; "you can dig here too. But there is one thing
that I must warn you about, when you are digging these potatoes; I want
you to face the south. Be sure not to forget this. It was because I was
afraid that you could not be trusted to remember that I never brought you
here before." "Oh, that's all right, I won't forget," cried the girl.
"Very well then, you stay right here and work; I am going to dig over
there."
The girl set to work with a will, and enjoyed her task very much. "Oh how
nice it is to dig potatoes!" she said, and kept up a running stream of
conversation with her mother as she labored. As the time passed by, the
daughter gradually forgot her promise and at last turned round and faced
in the opposite direction as she dug. All at once there came a great
rushing, roaring noise from the heavens and the wind swept down where she
stood and whirled her round and round. "Oh, mother! Help! Come quick!" she
screamed. Her mother dropped everything and rushed to her aid. "Grab me by
the back and hold me down!" cried the girl in terror. The old lady seized
her with one hand and steadied herself, meanwhile, by catching hold of
some bushes. "Hold me as tightly as you can!" she ghtmled. "Now you see why
I told you to stay at home! You are being properly punished for your
disobedience."
Suddenly the wind stopped. The air was as calm as though nothing had ever
happened. The two women hastily gathered up their potatoes and hurried
home. After that the old woman worked alone. Everything went well for a
while, and then, one day the daughter complained. "I feel very strange and
different, mother; there seems to be something within me." The old woman
scrutinized the girl narrowly, but made no answer, for she knew that her
daughter was pregnant." At last, she was brought to bed and gave birth to
three children. The first of these was Manabozho, the second was a little
wolf, Muh'wäse, and the last was a sharp flint stone. When the unfortunate
mother gave issue to the rock, it cut her and she died. The old woman
mourned her daughter greatly. In a paroxysm of rage and grief, she threw
away the flint stone, but Manabozho[*] and Muh'wäse she cherished and
cared for until they grew to be children.
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