"Well, I have acorn bread." He had no bread, but he put his hand in his bosom and thought, "I want bread of red flint meal." This bread came to his bosom, and he gave each woman a piece of it. "My grandmother makes good bread," said he. "I carry it with me always to show people and let them have some to eat. Every one likes my grandmother's bread." The bread tasted well; all ate. He watched their teeth closely. Very soon a woman fell dead; then all fell quickly and died. He cut their hearts out--fifty hearts--and carried them under his deerskin. He went farther south now; ran quickly. He saw fifty more women working near a fire; went near the fire, sprang up to it, and cried,-- "Hu, hu! women, you are out early; why so early? It is cold; come warm your hands. Give me something to eat; give me worms and clover; give me something to eat, and I will give you something; I will give bread, I will give venison." These women had come out to dig roots; their teeth were hanging on a tree near the fire. The Tenna women never kept their teeth in their mouths while they were working. "I wish my teeth were in my mouth," thought each woman, "I would kill that man." All these fifty women came up to the fire, ate acorn bread as the others had eaten, and died. From this fire Tsawandi Kamshupa went to another, and that morning he killed all the Tenna women who were out; not one was left alive, except a few who had remained at home in the sweat-house. He went farther south now; went to their sweat-house. It was still early morning. All the Tenna men were at home. "How shall I kill them?" thought Tsawandi. "I will go into the house and say that I am sent by my brother to invite them to a feast and a hunt. They'll believe that." He looked down from the top of the house. There were many Tennas there. All the Tenna men were in the sweat-house. Tsawandi Kamshupa went in boldly; sat near the fire, warming his hands. The Tennas whispered to each other, "That's my blood, sister; that's my blood, brother!" meaning, "he's my share; I'll eat him." "Oh, you Tenna people, what are you talking of? I am your neighbor. I do not live very far from you, I am no stranger. I have come down here early this morning to invite you to a feast, to a hunt. Tsawandi Kamshu sent me down here to ask you; he would like to see you at his sweat-house." "This one here looks like Tsawandi Kamshu himself," whispered some. "Oh, no," whispered others. "Tsawandi Kamshu is dead this good while. We killed him." "What are you telling each other?" interrupted Tsawandi Kamshupa. "I am not Tsawandi Kamshu. He does not look like me. He is my brother. He sent me to ask you to hunt. I killed some deer on the way here, but could bring only their hearts. Here are the hearts."