“You must be careful. Your father is tracking you; he means to kill her. I left him eating bones, but he will be here soon.” Just then Tskel screamed out: “I see him now! There he is, peeping over that mountain.” Old Wûlkûtska was on the farther side of the mountain, looking over. He threw his mortar at Pitoíois, but she saw it coming and dodged. That minute the old man was there at the camp. “I am sweating. It’s awful hot!” said he. “You have been eating bones,” said his sons, and they began to scold him. Pitoíois gave him meat and bones, then said to the brothers: “Let us leave him and go over two mountains.” At the foot of the second mountain there was a large river. “Are there any fish in this river?” asked Pitoíois. “A great many,” said the eldest brother. When she took off two of her dresses to go into the water, the youngest brother said: “Put on your dresses; they will get stiff and hard.” “I can fix them,” said Pitoíois, and she began to catch fish with her basket. Soon she saw her father-in-law watching her. Just his forehead and eyes were above the top of the mountain. He thought: “I will have her now; she hasn’t seen me yet.” That time the old man talked to his mortar, said: “Hit her if you can, but if you can’t, fall on the ground. Don’t fall in the water.” He threw the mortar, but Pitoíois saw it coming and dodged. The mortar fell on the ground with a terrible noise. The brothers were roasting meat; they heard the noise and ran toward the river. Pitoíois dropped her basket and fish, and ran toward the camp, crying. “What noise was that?” asked the brothers. “It was your father’s mortar. It struck near me. He is trying to kill me.” “It is your fault,” said the brothers. “When he was dead, you brought him to life.” “I don’t hate him, I want him to live,” said Pitoíois. That minute Wûlkûtska came puffing along. “I am sweating. It’s awful hot!” said he. All night the brothers watched the old man for fear he would kill Pitoíois. “You needn’t bother,” said Pitoíois. “I am willing to die, but I want to see my brothers again.” “We will go home,” said the eldest brother. “It makes me feel lonesome to go home. It was you who wanted to come,” said the youngest brother. The second brother was mad; he snatched his father’s mortar and threw it into the river. The old man chased him and threw the pounder at him; it just missed him. The young man picked it up and threw it back. It hit the old man and killed him, for his mortar was in the water and he was getting weak. The brothers were glad that he was dead. “I can’t do without the old man,” said little Tskel, and he began to cry. Pitoíois was sorry for Tskel. When the youngest brother saw how sorry Pitoíois and Tskel were, he asked Pitoíois if she could do anything to bring the old man to life.