The old woman took roots and talked to the mountains; she said: “You must give us wood that won’t burn us.” To the springs she said: “Old grandmother, you always have water under your care; give us plenty of good water.” To the house she said: “You know us, our house that we built.” She talked to each part of the house. (If people didn’t talk to the posts of the house they would fall. The woman who told this myth said she had known of such cases.) To the posts she said: “Hold up this house; be good to us.” She packed away all the roots they dug, ten large basketfuls, then she and her daughter brought in wood enough to last till spring. The old woman said: “Grandchildren, I want you to bring me gum from the cedar trees.” When they brought it, she covered her face with it and stopped up her eyes. Then she lay down with her head over the hole and didn’t go out of the house again all winter. Some mornings she woke up and gave a handful of roots to the children. In the night, when the children were asleep, she ate plenty of roots herself. One morning her daughter asked: “How is it that rats are always gnawing; why don’t you kill them?” “I wish you wouldn’t listen to everything,” said the old woman. One morning she said to the little girl: “I wish you wouldn’t cry in the night.” The mother said: “You don’t give the children enough to eat; they are hungry.” “You don’t know about the winter,” said the old woman. “It’s going to be long, and our roots won’t last: the snow will be deep yet.” The children were hungry, but their mother said: “You mustn’t cry, it makes your grandmother worse.” The boy said: “Let us kill her; she has no eyes.” “If we tried to kill her, she would kill us; you are small and I couldn’t run fast enough to get away from her.” “What are you whispering about?” asked the grandmother. “The children talk low because they are weak; you are starving them to death.” One morning old Lok asked: “Which way does the snow come?” The boy looked out, and said: “It comes from the north.” “That shows it will be good weather to-morrow.” She gave the children a few roots. The next day the old woman said: “I wish I had some meat to eat.” “Stop!” said her daughter. “Don’t talk like that.” She was afraid that her mother wanted to kill the children and eat them. The next morning the grandmother asked: “How does the sky look?” The little boy said: “There are clouds.” “Where are the clouds?” “They are around Omisna.” “That means rain,” said the old woman. “It won’t be long till spring comes.” She took out plenty of roots and pounded them for the children. (They were fooling her.) The next day she sent the little girl to look at Mlaiksi. The girl said: “Smoke is rising from the top of the mountain, as if someone had made a fire up there.” The old woman was taking out a few roots, but she poured them back, and said: “There is going to be a great storm.”