Paup-puk-keewiss thanked him, and told him that he was in search of more adventures. “I have done some things,” said Paup-puk-keewiss, rather boastfully, “and I think I can do some more.” The chief still urged him, but he was eager to go, and, naming Pipe-bearer to tarry and take his place, he set out again on his travels, promising that he would some time or other come back and see them. “Ho! ho! ho!” they all cried. “Come back again and see us!” He renewed his promise that he would, and then set out alone. After travelling some time he came to a great lake, and on looking about he discovered a very large otter on an island. He thought to himself: “His skin will make me a fine pouch.” And he immediately drew up at long shots and drove an arrow into his side. He waded into the lake, and with some difficulty dragged him ashore, and up a hill overlooking the lake. As soon as Paup-puk-keewiss got the otter into the sunshine where it was warm, he skinned him, and threw the carcass some distance off, thinking the war-eagle would come, and that he should have a chance to secure his feathers as ornaments for the head; for Paup-puk-keewiss began to be proud, and was disposed to display himself. He soon heard a rushing noise as of a loud wind, but could see nothing. Presently a large eagle dropped, as if from the air, upon the otter’s carcass. Paup-puk-keewiss drew his bow, and the arrow passed through under both of his wings. The bird made a convulsive flight upward, with such force that the cumbrous body was borne up several feet from the ground; but, with its claws deeply fixed, the heavy otter brought the eagle back to the earth. Paup-puk-keewiss possessed himself of a handful of the prime feathers, crowned his head with the trophy, and set off in high spirits on the lookout for something new. After walking awhile, he came to a body of water which flooded the trees on its banks—it was a lake made by beavers. Taking his station on the raised dam where the stream escaped, he watched to see whether any of the beavers would show themselves. A head presently peeped out of the water to see who it was that disturbed them. “My friend,” said Paup-puk-keewiss, in his most persuasive manner, “could you not oblige me by turning me into a beaver like yourself. Nothing would please me so much as to make your acquaintance, I can assure you,” for Paup-puk-keewiss was curious to know how these watery creatures lived, and what kind of notions they had. “I do not know,” replied the beaver, who was rather short-nosed and surly. “I will go and ask the others. Meanwhile stay where you are, if you please.” “To be sure,” answered Paup-puk-keewiss, stealing down the bank several paces as soon as the beaver’s back was turned. Presently there was a great splashing of the water, and all the beavers showed their heads and looked warily to where he stood, to see if he was armed; but he had knowingly left his bow and arrows in a hollow tree at a short distance.