Old Koé heard her and came; she took off the child’s clothes and rubbed his body with ashes, then she put black coal on one side of his face and white ashes on the other, and called for her Skoks. (Skoks was old Koé’s medicine.) Koé said to the mother: “A Skoks came for your child, but the little fellow turned his left shoulder. If he had turned his right shoulder, the Skoks would have taken his spirit away; but she didn’t get hold of it; she called and it followed her. My Skoks will go for it.” The boy’s spirit hadn’t gone far. Koé’s Skoks went right in front of it and brought it back, and the child came to life. When the mother asked how the Skoks looked, the boy said: “She had finger-nails longer than her hand. I couldn’t see her plainly, but I heard her call me.” The mother wanted to give Koé nice things, beads and porcupine quills, but Koé said: “I don’t want any of those things; I only want to bring back as many spirits as I can.” The little boy grew fast; he was a great kiúks. When men asked how his Skoks looked when she awakened him out of dreams, he said: “She has red eyes, like fire in the night, and her nails are longer than her fingers. She has hot ashes for her paint. One side of her face is white; on that side are black tears, on the other side are red tears, like blood.” A SKOKS STORY On the shore of Tula Lake many chiefs were living,—the first people. (They are now turned to fowls and animals.) With them lived an old woman and her grandson. The boy was called “Big Belly;” Tusasás rubbed dirt on him and laughed at him because he was small and fat. A Skoks traveled every evening along the eastern side of the lake. The Skoks wore a straw blanket, and made a great noise, crying as he went along. The minute anybody saw him, he vanished. If he passed a man whose right shoulder was toward him, that man died at once, for the spirit stole his life, but if the spirit passed on the other side, the person was senseless a while and then came to life. One evening people heard the Skoks coming. It made such a noise that they heard it when it was a long way off. They were scared; they crowded together and each person wanted to be inside. Tusasás wanted to be under all the rest; they pulled him up and threw him out, but he crawled under again. The people shivered; it was so cold they were nearly frozen. It was always cold when that Skoks screamed; he made it so. Fires went out and grass wouldn’t burn. The old woman took the hull of seeds and made a fire for the little boy. She cried while she was making it, and said: “My grandson, all the people here are going to die.” The little boy didn’t seem to know what she meant; he got up and stood by the fire. She said: “Sit down, my grandson, you mustn’t stand up or go out; if you meet this Skoks, you are sure to die.” The old woman threw ashes toward the voice of the Skoks.