“I don’t want to go there,” said Gáukos. “You must get a string and help me tie my blanket around my waist. I am going to the gauwams on the mountains, but I will come back.” “You are a little fellow,” said his sister; “you are not old enough to go so far alone.” “I can take care of myself,” said Gáukos. “I will make myself strong. I will talk to the earth and mountains and get them to give me power.” Lĭsgaga tied his blanket together and Gáukos walked off quickly. With every step he took, he grew. He had a song that he sang as he traveled; the song said: “I’ve been thrown out, I’ve been given to the earth!” The trail Gáukos followed went into a ravine; when he came up on the other side of the ravine he was as large as a full-grown man. Lĭsgaga was watching, and when she saw that her brother had grown large and strong, she went back to the house. The elder sister laughed, and said: “Our little brother has gone to get wise and great, but the crows will eat him.” Lĭsgaga didn’t say a word. After a while Látkakáwas’ five brothers went to Blaiwas’ house. The eldest brother married Blaiwas’ daughter; the second brother married Kaiutois’ daughter; the third Wûlkûtska’s daughter; the fourth Wekwek’s; the fifth married the daughter of Kutyelolinas. For five days Lĭsgaga sat on the top of the house, making a tula grass mat, and waiting for her brother. Often her sister threatened to push her off, made fun of her, and asked: “Who are you looking for? Your brother,” said she, “has gone for wisdom and power, but some wild beast will eat him; you will never see him again.” The sixth morning, when Lĭsgaga went to the top of the house, she heard her brother’s song. It sounded far away, near the mountains. As Gáukos came along the trail, he saw nice things,—blankets worked with porcupine quills, buckskin dresses, beads, and bows and arrows. He took a wonderful buckskin dress, for his little sister. There were no seams in the dress and it was covered with beads; there was not another such a dress in the world. Gáukos thought he would be kind to his elder sister, so he took a buckskin dress for her, but it wasn’t as nice as Lĭsgaga’s. When his little sister saw him coming, she went down the ladder into the house. Everybody in the village saw Gáukos coming and wondered who the stranger was. He was like the moon; his body was changed and he was bright and beautiful. When the elder sister saw him, she laughed and said to Lĭsgaga: “Maybe that young man is your brother. Maybe Gáukos looks like that now.” Lĭsgaga didn’t say a word. She spread down the tula grass mat she had made and it became bright and beautiful. The elder sister took it up, and spread it on her own place for the stranger to sit on; she thought he might be coming to marry her. Lĭsgaga said: “I made that mat for my brother to sit on. You have always said that he soiled your mats.” She took the mat and put it down on her own side of the house.