“Don’t kill all the brothers,” said Wus-Kumush. “If you do it will be dark here. There will never be any light again. It will always be night.” “You will freeze to death,” said some of the people. “There is deep snow along that trail.” “I will build ten houses, where I can rest and get warm.” “Before you get to Súbbas’ house there is a long, broad flat,” said Blaiwas. “The brothers dig roots there. I often see them when I am up in the air. Near the house there is a high mountain. You must go to the top of it and watch the brothers from there. When they start for home, there is always a terrible snowstorm. The eldest brother goes first, and one follows another. In the morning, when they start to hunt for roots, the youngest goes first.” When Wus came to the mountain he talked to it and asked it for help; then he watched for the brothers. Soon he saw the youngest brother come out of the house and start toward the flat. One brother followed another till all ten had gone to dig roots; then Wus went toward the house. The house was made of dirt and covered with turf. Kāhkaas didn’t see Wus coming; when he sprang in at the smoke hole Kāhkaas screamed out. Wus jumped on him, choked him and scolded him; then he threw him into a corner, and said: “When I come to see you, what makes you scream? I want to talk nice to you; I want you to go home with me. This is a bad place. I will give you shells and nice beads.” “I will go out and make just a little noise,” said Kāhkaas, “and then the brothers won’t come home; that is the way I do.” Wus let him go out, but he followed him so he wouldn’t scream loud. The brothers heard Kāhkaas and one said: “What’s the matter? I heard something.” When they heard him the second time they said: “Oh, that is Kāhkaas at play.” “How do these men live?” asked Wus. “Every morning they go early to dig roots; they dig all day, then one brother comes home. When he gets to the house, he puts down his basket of roots, comes to the smoke hole and looks all around to see if any one is here; then he comes in. Each brother comes in the same way; each one brings a basketful of roots, and each looks around the house before he comes in. The five oldest brothers come first, then the five youngest follow. As each one starts for home, there is a terrible snowstorm. I build a big fire from that pile of sticks outside the house. The snow and cold almost put the fire out, but I keep putting on sticks.” “Where can I hide, so that they won’t see me when they look around?” asked Wus. “They don’t look toward the east,” said Kāhkaas; “you must hide in the east part of the house, in the hole where we keep roots.” “Hide me there,” said Wus. “I am going to take you home with me. You must tie up a bundle of roots for us to eat on the road. You will have to eat a good deal or you will give out. It is a long road.”