STORIES 397

home all the meat he could carry. Then he left in the direction whence
he had come.

Wolverine first cut the grease and meat from the four largest goats,
those killed by the arrows, and then did the same with the other thirty,
stuffing his sack with the spoil, though it appeared to be unfillable. In
spite of its weight Wolverine carried it easily. On reaching home at dusk
he hung the pack on a projecting rafter of the house; it was so heavy that
the whole building shook under the load. Wolverine said nothing but
went inside, where he ate the usual scanty meal prepared for him by his
wife. Then he asked her to bring in his sack. When she pulled it from
the rafter it fell to the ground with a crash; it was so heavy that she
could barely drag it into the house. They opened it and the Wolverine
family feasted, while Raven and his children sat gulping in envy.

When at last the meal was finished, Raven sat thinking for some time
with his head on one side. Then he said to his wife:

“Make me a hunter’s sack, a very strong one, with quadruple strings.”

She did so, as he sat making a bow and four arrows.

Next morning he started off hunting, followed by his dog. Above the
timber-line he saw a man approaching. It was Twa/di#it, but Raven did
not know him. The two stopped to talk.

“Those are very fine arrows of yours,” said Twalai%it. “Who made
them?”

Raven, gratified by the praise, replied, ““Raven made them.”

Then Raven said, ‘‘That is a fine dog of yours.”

“Yes,” Twalditit answered. “Whenever he barks twenty goats fall
dead.”

“That is not as good as mine,” said Raven. “Whenever he barks
forty goats fall dead.”

“No, mine is better,” Twa/aiit said. “If he barks twice a hundred
goats fall dead. Let me see your arrows.”

When Raven had handed them to him, Twa/ditit said:

“T will see if Raven made them.”

He fitted one to his bow and fired at a rock on which the arrow was
shattered; then did the same with the other three.

“Yes,” said Twaldifit, “You spoke the truth. Raven did make the
arrows. That is why they broke.”

Then he went away.

Raven sat down, his arms folded across his stomach; on one side his
useless dog, on the other his broken arrows; he was very sad. Suddenly
he remembered that in his own stomach there was suet. So he took out
his knife, cut the skin and felt around for the fat, which he pulled out.
It pained him a good deal but when he had sewn up the wound with some