"My grandson," said he, "you will find a pipe right there on your side of the house and a sack of tobacco. You may smoke if you wish." Tsaroki took the pipe, looked at it, liked it well. This pipe was from Wai Hola Puyuk. When he drew in the smoke and puffed out the first whiff, the whole house was filled so that nothing was seen in it. Waida Dikit put his head outside the door. There was smoke outside everywhere. He could see nothing. Then he turned back and said,-- "My grandson, you are a good man. You are a strong man. You smoke well. This will do for the first time.--If he does that again," thought the old man, "there will be nothing seen in this world; all will be covered with smoke;" and he said, "You are a strong man; that is enough for this time." "I should like to know why he says, 'That is enough.' What does he want to do with me?" thought Tsaroki. "Maybe he is trying me in some way." "My grandson," said the old man, after a while, "I should like to see somebody; I should like to see something, see people; I should like to have fun and see games of some sort." "I should like to see them too," answered Tsaroki; "I should like to see them, my grandfather. You are older than I; if you tell me what to do, I will do it." "My grandson, can you play on anything?" "I should like to play if you would teach me," said Tsaroki. The old man put his hand behind him into a basket of things, drew out a flute and gave it to Tsaroki, who took it quickly, he was so glad. He sat down, crossed his legs, and before he had blown into the flute, just as he touched his lips with it, beautiful sounds came out. The young man was glad, wonderfully glad. The old man, who sat looking at him, asked,-- "How do you like the flute, my grandson?" "I like it well," said Tsaroki. "I am glad to hear you play, my grandson; I am glad when you do something good. When I was young, I used to say good things, I used to do good things. Now, my grandson, think what you would like best to do." "I should like to hear something nice, to hear music, to hear beautiful sounds." After he had taken the flute Tsaroki did not sleep; he played for three days and three nights without stopping; then he stopped and asked,-- "What is this flute? What is it made of? It sounds so sweetly." "My grandson, I will tell you; that flute is of wood,--alder wood. That is an alder flute, but the wood is people's bones. There were people long ago, and that alder wood grew out of their bones. My grandson, would you like to have another young man with you, or do you wish to be alone? I think it would be better for you to have company." "My grandfather, I should like to have another man with me; I could talk with him. I could live then more pleasantly." "My grandson, to see another young man you must go to the west; you must go in the middle of the night, when it is very dark, so that no one may see you. My grandson, it is better for you to go to-night."