When he chose to put his mind upon it he was quite expert, and this time he succeeded in killing a fine fat moose, which he thought he would take aside slyly, and devour alone, having prepared to tell the old wolf a pretty story on his return, to account for his failure to bring anything with him. He was very hungry, and he sat down to eat; but as he never could go to work in a straightforward way, he immediately fell into great doubts as to the proper point at which to begin. “Well,” said he, “I do not know where to commence. At the head? No. People will laugh, and say, ‘He ate him backward.’” He went to the side. “No,” said he, “they will say I ate him sideways.” He then went to the hind-quarter. “No, that will not do either; they will say I ate him forward. I will begin here, say what they will.” He took a delicate piece from the small of the back, and was just on the point of putting it to his mouth, when a tree close by made a creaking noise. He seemed vexed at the sound. He raised the morsel to his mouth the second time, when the tree creaked again. “Why”, he exclaimed, “I cannot eat when I hear such a noise. Stop, stop!” he said to the tree. He put it down, exclaiming, “I cannot eat with such a noise;” and starting away he climbed the tree, and was pulling at the limb which had offended him, when his fore paw was caught between the branches so that he could not free himself. While thus held fast, he saw a pack of wolves advancing through the wood in the direction of his meat. He suspected them to be the old wolf and his cubs, but night was coming on and he could not make them out. “Go the other way, go the other way!” he cried out; “what would you come to get here?” The wolves stopped for a while and talked among themselves, and said: “Manabozho must have something there, or he would not tell us to go another way.” “I begin to know him,” said an old wolf, “and all his tricks. Let us go forward and see.” They came on, and finding the moose, they soon made away with it. Manabozho looked wistfully on to see them eat till they were fully satisfied, when they scampered off in high spirits. A heavy blast of wind opened the branches and released Manabozho, who found that the wolves had left nothing but the bare bones. He made for home, where, when he related his mishap, the old wolf, taking him by the fore paw, condoled with him deeply on his ill-luck. A tear even started to his eye as he added: “My brother, this should teach us not to meddle with points of ceremony when we have good meat to eat.” The winter having by this time drawn fairly to a close, on a bright morning in the early spring the old wolf addressed Manabozho: “My brother, I am obliged to leave you; and although I have sometimes been merry at your expense, I will show that I care for your comfort. I shall leave one of the boys behind me to be your hunter, and to keep you company through the long summer afternoons.”