"Look down carefully," said Jupka; "if you see clover scattered on a road, you must not go over it. Go over that road on the right, do not look at the other." Damhauja had sent people to scatter clover on the middle road and entice men, make them think that the road to his sweat-house. "The middle road lies straight toward the mountain," said Jupka; "all people die who try to pass over it. A great many lie dead on that road now, my nephew; do not go near it." Juiwaiyu kept on; soon they heard laughter ahead on the small mountain, loud laughter. "You are on the wrong road," said Jupka. "Turn back, my nephew; if not, you will die surely. That was the laughter of people sent by Damhauja to kill all who go over the middle road." Juiwaiyu kept on; he would not listen to his uncle. Soon a great wind came, bringing clouds of lice with it; the air was filled with them. They fell on Juiwaiyu, and ate the flesh off his body. The wind drove him far back on his journey, and blew the beads from his neck. The people of the mountain did this,--people put there and kept by Damhauja. Juiwaiyu was angry. He rushed forward a second time. "I will pass, I will go through this time," said he. "I told you of this trouble," said Jupka, "I warned you. I said that this was an evil road over which no one can pass. Stop, or you will be dead before night comes. Stop! Let me down; I will save you." Juiwaiyu came to the ground, and took out his uncle. "I will save you," said Jupka; "I will give you back flesh and strength." The old man took his pipe and drew smoke through it. The wind went away; the lice disappeared, not one was left anywhere. Jupka took up a rose-twig. With this he whipped Juiwaiyu, and he was as sound and strong as ever. He had all his flesh back in a moment. The people of the mountain saw this. "We cannot kill him," said they; "he has too much power for us." "You must turn back and start where the roads part," said Jupka. "On the right is a small narrow trail; you can barely see it, but you must find this trail. You cannot go to Damhauja's house by another way." Juiwaiyu went back to where the paths parted. "You are looking for the way," said Jupka. "If you see a narrow little trail, that is it." He found that trail at last. "That is the right way," said the uncle. It was so narrow that Juiwaiyu was barely able to see it. He went forward easily; went fast, like a man who is running down hill. They came to the small mountain, and when Juiwaiyu was above it, he heard laughing at a distant village. "That must be the place to which we are going," said he. "My nephew, look out now, be careful. When you go into Damhauja's sweat-house and sit with his daughters, he will give you a pipe filled with crushed bones of people instead of tobacco. If you breathe smoke from that pipe, you will die the next moment. With this smoke he has killed those who escaped lice and wind from the mountain."