STORIES 461

“J will go and get that one,” said Axa confidently.

Owing to his supernatural power he scaled the precipitous cliffs with-
out trouble, but as soon as he was out of sight A#sidx rubbed the paint
from his face, causing the goat to vanish. A xd returned, unsuccessful and
puzzled, and that night they camped without food.

Early in the morning A#sidx went to the river where he washed him-
self four times. Then he put his hands down at his side, as if without
reason, but when he brought them up there was a beaver held in either
palm. These he carried back to the camp where he woke the people,
telling them to come and eat, an invitation which they gladly accepted.

That day the hunters divided into three parties, A#sidx and A xd each
formed one, while the other hunters went together as a third group. When
Alisiéx reached the base of a precipitous mountain not far from the camp
he painted his face with a large number of red daubs, then, as he began
to beat time and sing the song which the animals had used, goat after goat
fell dead before him. He thus killed a great many, but when Axé re-
turned at night A#isiéx found that his rival had been equally successful.
They hunted no more, but instead dried the meat and then went back to
Stuxx where each gave a potlatch.

Axsiéx carefully hung the leg-bones of his victims around the walls
of his house. After he had hunted several times, always using the paint
and the song, his house was full and he prepared to give a shaman’s dance,
as had been directed by the father of the mountain goat he had cured.
But old Skimutcii?, fearing that this would mean that his son would no
longer go hunting to keep his household plentifully supplied with fresh
meat, refused permission. This was more than A#sidx could endure.
For four days he lay down on a raised platform behind the fire, delibera-
ting on his next move, then decided to assume the form of a mountain
goat. That very night he did so, leaping down from his resting-place
with a goat-skin loosely wrapped round him, shaking himself once to place
it firmly in position, then bounding out through the door. An old woman,
who happened to be sitting awake near the exit as he dashed past her,
threw some red paint at him, leaving a daub on his flank.

Skimutcit? was filled with consternation and grief. In a frenzy of
despair he rolled on the ground so near the fire that most of the hair of
his head was singed off.

“I have exiled my son, I have destroyed my own food,’’® he wailed.

Aiisiéx never returned. For generations hunters from Stuux saw on
the mountains a large male goat which they recognized as the lost man
by the red stain on his fank. Perhaps he became immortal, perhaps he

“He used a term meaning, “I have cut my meat,” having the double significance
of driving away his son, and as such taking away much of his meat supply.