"I wished to go hunting to-day, but I will go very early to-morrow. I will go before daylight," said Tsawandi Kamshupa. "I am going to look around. I am going a short distance to hunt. I will come back; have no fear." The old woman was afraid. She had lost the owner of the bow, the best of her grandsons. "I will only go down south a little way," said he. Early next morning he took a deerskin, wrapped it around his body, tied a belt around his waist, and took his arrows. There was dew on the grass yet. He looked down the mountain-side, saw many people near a big fire, and said,-- "I know who those people are; they are Teptewi" (Tenna women). There were fifty of them. They had come to that swampy mountain-side early in the morning. They had come before daybreak to dig worms and gather clover. Each had a stick to dig worms with. The young man stood watching these women, and said to himself: "What shall I do? These Tennas have killed all my people except my old grandmother. They tried to kill her. They will kill her and me if they can. What shall I do? There are a great many women there. I will kill a lone one to begin with, then hide my bow and quiver and go to those farther down." He went along the slope somewhat, came to one Tenna woman, and killed her. The others did not see him, did not know that he was on the mountain, thought that all the Hakas were dead. He opened the Tenna's throat, took her heart, put it inside his blanket, and left the body dead on the ground. The other Tenna women were working not far from a fire. These women had taken their teeth out and hung them on a tree near the fire. Whenever they were angry the women put these teeth in their mouths to bite with. Tsawandi went along the mountain-side carefully. "I will go to that fire," thought he. Then he sprang up and stood near the fire, warmed his hands. The women did not see him yet. One looked up at the fire, but saw no one. "Hei!" cried he, "you women are out very early. Come here and warm yourselves. Cook worms for me; I am hungry, I want worms." The women gave no answer, said nothing. They were afraid; they could not bite, for their teeth were out. "If I had my teeth, I would kill that man," thought each woman. Tsawandi kept his eye on the teeth, which were at one end of the fire; he would let no woman come near them. "Come up! come up!" called he. At last they came up and sat near the fire, but could not get their teeth. "I did not know that women go out in the morning so early," said he. "I saw a deer some distance back here and killed it. I was in a great hurry. I took only a small piece of meat." He took out the heart, cut it into pieces, roasted them by the fire; then he gave some to each woman. The women were hungry, and were glad to get meat. "Have you no bread?" asked Tsawandi. "We have no bread," said the women.