Tsore Jowa came near the place from which the cry rose; saw no one. Still she heard the cry. At last she saw a face; it was the face of Juka, her father. Tsore Jowa took a sharp stick and dug. She dug down to Juka's waist; tried to pull him up, but could not stir him. She dug again, dug a good while; pulled and pulled, until at last she drew him out. Juka was very poor, all bones, no flesh at all on him. Tsore Jowa put down a deerskin, wrapped her father in it, and carried him to the old woman's house; then she put him with Haka Lasi's body, and carried them home to the old burned sweat-house east of Jigulmatu. She was crying yet, since one brother was missing. She put down the basket in which she had carried them, hid it away, covered it carefully. At the foot of Wahkalu lived a certain Jamuka, an old man who had a wife and two daughters. "Bring in some wood," said the old man one day to his daughters. The two girls took their baskets and went to bring wood. Soon they heard some one singing,-- "I-nó i-nó, I-no mi-ná I-nó, i-nó I-no mi-ná." "Listen," said the younger sister; "some one is singing." They listened, heard the singing; it seemed right at the foot of Wahkalu. They went toward the place from which the sound came. "That is a nice song," said the younger sister. "I should like to see the one who sings so." They went near, saw no one yet. "Let us take the wood home," said the elder sister, "then come back here; our father may be angry if we stay away longer." They took the wood home, put it down, and said nothing. Both went back to the place where the singing was and listened. At last the younger sister came to the right place, and said, "I think this is he who is singing." There was a head sticking out of the ground, and the face was covered with water. The man had cried so much that he looked dirty and ugly. The sisters took sharp sticks, and dug all around the head, dug deeply. They could not pull out the person; they had only dug to his waist when night came and they must go. "Why did you stay out so late?" asked their father. "We heard some one singing, and wanted to know who it was, but were not able. We will go back in the morning and search again." "That is well," said Jamuka. He had heard how Juka's sons had been killed. "Perhaps one of those people is alive yet," said he; "you must look for him." They went early next morning to dig, and drew the man out. They took off their buckskin skirts then, and wrapped him up carefully. He was nothing but bones, no flesh at all on his body. The younger sister ran home to get wildcat skins to wrap around him. "We have found a man, but he is all bones," said she to her father. "Take good care of the stranger, feed and nurse him well," said Jamuka; "he may be Juka himself, and he is a good man." They wrapped the man in wildcat skins. A great stream of water was running from his eyes, and deer came down the hill to drink of that water.