Next morning she set out with a sack, went away to high mountains, gathered deer-bones, red and green leg-bones, and put them in her sack. At sunset she went back to the house, with the sack full. The two brothers were glad, now. The elder took red, and the younger green bones. (The fat on the leg-bones of deer turns some red and others green.) "You must catch her bad sister for Tsore Jowa," said the old woman to her grandsons. All that night the brothers sat sharpening the bones and then fastening them to the spear-shafts. They did not stop for a moment. "Let us go now; it is near daylight," said the elder brother. They started. When they reached the lake, they went out on the water. Every morning at daybreak. Haka Lasi sprang up to the surface and called from the lake. The elder brother took a stem of tule grass, opened it, placed it on the water, made himself small, and sat down in the middle of it. The younger brother fixed himself in another stem of tule in the same way. The two tule stems floated away on the water, till they came near the place where the brothers had seen Haka Lasi spring up the first time. "Let me shoot before you," said the elder brother. "Oh, you cannot shoot; you will miss her," said the younger. "Let me shoot first. You will miss; you will not hit her heart." "I will hit," said the elder. They watched and watched. Each had his bow drawn ready to shoot. Daylight came now. Haka Lasi rose quickly, came to the top of the water, and held out her arms before calling. The younger brother sent the first arrow, struck her in the neck; the elder shot, struck her right under the arm. Haka Lasi dropped back and sank in the water. The brothers watched and watched. After a time they saw two arrows floating, and were afraid they had lost her. She had pulled them out of her body, and they rose to the surface. After a while the body rose. Haka Lasi was dead. The brothers saw that she had a great many hearts on a string around her neck. They drew her to the shore then, and carried her home. They left the body hidden outside the house, and went in. "We did not see her," said the elder Tsanunewa to his grandmother. All sat down to eat fish, and when they were through eating, the elder said to Tsore Jowa, "Come out and see what we caught this morning." She ran out with them, and saw her dead sister with a string of hearts on her neck. Tsore Jowa took off her buckskin skirt, wrapped up the body, and put it in the house. She counted the hearts. "My eldest brother's heart is not here, and my father's is not here," said she. "Every morning we hear some one crying, far away toward the north; that may be one of them," said the two Tsanunewas. Tsore Jowa started out to find this one, if she could, who was calling. She left the body and hearts at the old grandmother's house, and hurried off toward the north. She heard the cry soon and knew it. "That is my father," said she.