“I don’t want to suffer while I live,” said Tskel. He was getting his stone knife out. It was tied up in his hair and the old man hadn’t seen it. With the knife Tskel cut holes in the skin blanket for his eyes and his hands, and just as he got to the end of the trail, he stuck the knife into the old man and killed him. Then he cut the body up and threw it piece by piece into the lake. As he threw the pieces, he called out: “Here is Tskel’s shoulder! Here are Tskel’s ribs! Here are his legs! Here are his arms!” As fast as he threw the pieces, the old man’s children caught and ate them. At last he threw the head. It was an awful-looking thing, enough to scare any one. When the children saw it and knew that they had eaten their father, they were so mad that they sent everything they had to find Tskel and kill him. They sent what they thought he would like,—knives, hatchets, beads, shells, blankets—to lie in his path. If he took up any one of them, he would die. Tskel passed them all till he came to the last, a stone knife sharp on both edges, that looked so nice that he picked it up. Right away the ends of his fingers were burned off. He dropped the knife, rubbed his fingers with his own stone knife, and they were well again. Then he went on till he reached home. Skóŭks and little Tcûskai had covered their hair with deer fat and pounded coal; they were mourning for him. When Tskel saw Tcûskai, he asked: “What are you doing? Why are you so dirty?” Tcûskai said: “I was just going to look for you.” Skóŭks said: “He should be whipped for telling lies. He has been everywhere in the world hunting for you. Just now he came home and put coal on his head, for when he couldn’t find you he thought you were dead.” Tskel was chief in the Klamath country. He was the strongest person living. No other man could have killed the old man of the lake. Now Tskel stayed at home for a long time. He killed deer and dried the meat and told his brother many things about the people in the world. One day when he was out hunting, he heard somebody singing a beautiful song; he listened and wondered who it was. Then he followed the sound. It drew him along till he came to a big cedar tree. A woman was sitting on a bough of the tree and throwing cedar berries on to a blanket spread under the tree. When she saw Tskel, she called out: “Come and sit on the blanket!” He knew she was the old man’s daughter, and he wouldn’t go near her; he went home. The next day he heard the song again, but he didn’t follow it. He went home and told Skóŭks that the old man’s daughter had come to kill him. He didn’t hunt again. One day the woman came and sat in a clump of bushes near Tskel’s house and told the crows to fly over her. Little Tcûskai saw the crows and said to his brother: “The crows are eating something. You had better go and see what it is.” “Don’t go near that place,” said Tskel.