Wakara took all his daughter's suitors to Tuina's sweat-house, and they were killed there. Igupa Topa knew this and said, "Wait a little, nephew, I will go with you." "Uncle," said Pun Miaupa, "you are too old. I don't want you to go; the journey would kill you. I want to travel very fast on this journey." "I will go at my own pace, I will go as I like," said the uncle. "Well, come with me if you can go fast." Igupa Topa dressed, took a staff, and looked very old. "Go on, I am ready," said he. Pun Miaupa started. He turned around to look at his uncle, and saw the old man; saw him fall while coming out of the sweat-house. Pun Miaupa stopped, held down his head, and thought, "He will not go, even as far as Wajami." The uncle rose and followed on. "You are too old, uncle; you cannot walk well. Stay at home; that is better for you." "Go ahead," said the old man; "walk fast. I will come as I can." Pun Miaupa went on; his uncle followed. Igupa Topa stumbled every few steps, fell, hurt himself, tore his skin. Pun Miaupa looked back very often. The uncle was always tumbling. "He must be bruised and broken from these falls," thought the nephew. Pun Miaupa was on a hill beyond Chichipana. He sat down and smoked. His uncle came up while he was sitting there. "Let me smoke; then I want to see you jump to that mountain over there," said the old man, pointing to it. "I shall leave you behind if I do that." "Leave me to myself," said the old man. Pun Miaupa put on deerskin leggings and a beaded shirt,--a splendid dress. He went then with one spring to the top of the opposite mountain and looked back to see his uncle; but old Igupa Topa had jumped too. He was just passing Pun Miaupa and went far beyond him. "I thought you were too old to jump," said Pun Miaupa, coming up to him. They jumped again, jumped to a second mountain, and the uncle was ahead the second time. After that they walked on. The old man fell very often, but Pun Miaupa did not pity him any longer; he laughed when his uncle fell. They travelled a good while, travelled fast, and when both reached Wajami Mountain, they sat down to rest there. "I want Wakara to send out his youngest daughter for wood," said Pun Miaupa in his mind; and the next minute Wakara, who was far away in his own sweat-house, told his youngest daughter to take a basket and go for wood. This daughter was Halai Auna. At that moment, too, Wakara's wife, Ochul Marimi, said to the girl: "Why do you lie asleep all the time and not help me? I want you to get me leaves for acorn bread." Halai Auna took the basket and went upon the mountain side to find wood and leaves. Pun Miaupa saw the girl filling her basket. "That is Wakara's daughter," said he to his uncle. "Stop! Be careful!" said Igupa Topa.