"I cannot lift that bag," said he to the little man. "How did you bring it, you are so small?" The stranger, who was Nodal Monoko, went out, brought the bag to the house in one hand, and put it down outside. Norwanchakus knew who the stranger was, and he brought up a great sturgeon. Keriha cooked the fish, put it down before their guest, and said, "Eat this." The little man said nothing, waited till the fish was cool, then raising it to his mouth in one hand, he swallowed all at a mouthful. Keriha cooked for the little man all the forenoon, while Norwanchakus was fishing. About midday their wood was nearly all burned. "My uncle," said Keriha, "we are going to cook a great deal of fish. Would you help me and bring wood?" The little man said nothing. "My uncle, will you bring wood for me?" asked Keriha. The stranger sat a while, then went out to a mountain, took the largest dry trees, pulled them up by the roots with one hand, put a great many in a pile, and tore up two young green trees; with these he bound the dry ones, and took them on his shoulder to Keriha. Now Keriha saw what kind of person the little man was. He cooked salmon and sturgeon till midnight without stopping, and still the little man was hungry. Keriha cooked fish the whole night, and Nodal Monoko ate till daylight. Norwanchakus came up from the river next morning and said to the little man, who looked as if he had eaten nothing,-- "My uncle, you wish to go home, I suppose. If you want fish, fill your bag; it will hold a couple of good ones. The fish did not come up last night very well, but I can give you enough to fill your bag." So saying, Norwanchakus went back to the fishing-place. Nodal Monoko went out and emptied his bag. When the roots were thrown out, there was a pile of them many times higher and bigger than the house. It covered all the open space, while some roots rolled down the hillside and fell into the river. Nodal Monoko's bag would hold mountains. He could put the whole world into it. Nodal took his bag to the river, where Norwanchakus had been fishing all night, and saw salmon in piles there. "Take all the salmon you can," said Norwanchakus. The stranger put two hundred salmon in one corner of his bag, two hundred more in the other, two hundred in the middle--all large fish--and the bottom of the bag was hardly covered. He twisted the top of the bag then, and tied it. Nodal Monoko had a beaver-skin quiver. In this he was carrying five great baskets of acorns, each basket holding three bushels, and these acorns filled only the very tip of the beaver tail. He went down to the river to swim across. "He cannot cross the river with that bag and quiver," said Keriha. At the edge of the water Nodal Monoko took the bag and quiver in one hand, and swam across with the other.