The next night he stuck his medicine cane over the place where he slept, took down his tula cane, and said to his grandmother: “I am going to the place where they make fun of me. If my medicine cane falls, it will be a sign that I am in trouble.” When he got to the place, the man who killed his father asked: “Why do you come so often? I wish you would keep away from me. I don’t like you; you look just like your father. Give me your cane!” Sápkokis wouldn’t give up his cane. He ran off to old woman Ndukis’ house. She said: “Why do you come to this village so often? That man over there will kill you.” When he didn’t start for home, she screamed to him to hurry, that the man was following him. She tore a hole in her house and told the boy to crawl out and run home as quickly as he could. Sápkokis crawled out, but he went around on one side and struck the man with his tula cane. The man fell in two pieces. The people said to the dead man: “That comes of your talking so big!” They shot at Sápkokis, but couldn’t hit him; he darted around and hit men with his tula cane. Each man he hit died right away. One man said: “I never killed any of your people; I have always been kind to you.” He let that man live. Sápkokis went home whooping and singing; he was glad. The women of the village told all the people living what the boy had done. Sápkokis said to his grandmother: “I am going to a place where there is high grass; I am not going to stay here and fight people.” He went to the mountain and stood in the high grass on one side of the trail. A great many men started out to kill Sápkokis. When he saw them coming, he met them, and asked: “Where are you going?” No one answered. He said: “Here is the best place to fight.” They tried to kill him, but his cane never failed; it killed every man. In the evening Sápkokis went home whooping and singing. When his grandmother saw him coming, she said: “He has killed everybody; that is why he whoops and runs so fast. It was bad enough to make him an orphan, not to make him think of his people. That is the way: if they know, they can never forget. Those people should have let him alone.” Sápkokis traveled around and everybody knew that he was a great fighter. One day he told his grandmother he was going to see Kûlta. She said: “If you go, don’t harm him; he is your kin.” Kûlta said: “My grandson, I am glad to see you. I hear women mourning. You must be on the watch; somebody may come here and kill you. You must cover your father and mother and relatives enough so you won’t think any more about them.” (He meant that he must kill all of his enemies.) Sápkokis asked: “Do you feel lonesome for people?” “No,” said Kûlta, “my sons never did any harm, but men killed them. I am glad to have you kill those men.” When Sápkokis went home, Kûlta carried the old grandmother fish. He was glad that his grandson was such a strong man.