‘Oh, well, let her try,’ replied Ball-Carrier. ‘It is not the first time people have wished to do that. And here I am still, you see!’
‘Be careful,’ said the wife, ‘she is very cunning.’ But at this moment the sister-in-law came up.
‘How do you do, brother-in-law? I have heard of you so often that I am very glad to meet you. I am told that you are more powerful than any man on earth, and as I am powerful too, let us try which is the strongest.’
‘That will be delightful,’ answered he. ‘Suppose we begin with a short race, and then we will go on to other things.’
‘That will suit me very well,’ replied the woman, who was a witch. ‘And let us agree that the one who wins shall have the right to kill the other.’
‘Oh, certainly,’ said Ball-Carrier;’ and I don’t think we shall find a flatter course than the prairie itself—no one knows how many miles it stretches. We will run to the end and back again.’
This being settled they both made ready for the race, and Ball-Carrier silently begged the good spirits to help him, and not to let him fall into the hands of this wicked witch.
‘When the sun touches the trunk of that tree we will start,’ said she, as they both stood side by side. But with the first step Ball-Carrier changed himself into a wolf and for a long way kept ahead. Then gradually he heard her creeping up behind him, and soon she was in front. So Ball-Carrier took the shape of a pigeon and flew rapidly past her, but in a little while she was in front again and the end of the prairie was in sight. ‘A crow can fly faster than a pigeon,’ thought he, and as a crow he managed to pass her and held his ground so long that he fancied she was quite beaten. The witch began to be afraid of it too, and putting out all her strength slipped past him. Next he put on the shape of a hawk, and in this form he reached the bounds of the prairie, he and the witch turning homewards at the moment.
Bird after bird he tried, but every time the witch gained on him and took the lead. At length the goal was in sight, and Ball-Carrier knew that unless he could get ahead now he would be killed before his own door, under the eyes of his wife. His eyes had grown dim from fatigue, his wings flapped wearily and hardly bore him along, while the witch seemed as fresh as ever. What bird was there whose flight was swifter than his? Would not the good spirits tell him? Ah, of course he knew; why had he not thought of it at first and spared himself all that fatigue? And the next instant a humming bird, dressed in green and blue, flashed past the woman and entered the house. The witch came panting up, furious at having lost the race which she felt certain of winning; and Ball-Carrier, who had by this time changed back into his own shape, struck her on the head and killed her.
For a long while Ball-Carrier was content to stay quietly at home with his wife and children, for he was tired of adventures, and only did enough hunting to supply the house with food. But one day he happened to eat some poisonous berries that he had found in the forest, and grew so ill that he felt he was going to die.
‘When I am dead do not bury me in the earth,’ he said, ‘but put me over there, among that clump of trees.’ So his wife and her three children watched by him as long as he was alive, and after he was dead they took him up and laid the body on a platform of stakes which they had prepared in the grove. And as they returned weeping to the hut they caught a glimpse of the ball rolling away down the path back to the old grandmother. One of the sons sprang forward to stop it, for Ball-Carrier had often told them the tale of how it had helped him to cross the river, but it was too quick for him, and they had to content themselves with the war club and bow and arrows, which were put carefully away.
By-and-by some travellers came past, and the chief among them asked leave to marry Ball-Carrier’s daughter. The mother said she must have a little time to think over it, as her daughter was still very young; so it was settled that the man should go away for a month with his friends, and then come back to see if the girl was willing.
Now ever since Ball-Carrier’s death the family had been very poor, and often could not get enough to eat. One morning the girl, who had had no supper and no breakfast, wandered off to look for cranberries, and though she was quite near home was astonished at noticing a large hut, which certainly had not been there when last she had come that way. No one was about, so she ventured to peep in, and her surprise was increased at seeing, heaped up in one corner, a quantity of food of all sorts, while a little robin redbreast stood perched on a beam looking down upon her.
‘It is my father, I am sure,’ she cried; and the bird piped in answer.
From that day, whenever they wanted food they went to the hut, and though the robin could not speak, he would hop on their shoulders and let them feed him with the food they knew he liked best.
When the man came back he found the girl looking so much prettier and fatter than when he had left her, that he insisted that they should be married on the spot. And the mother, who did not know how to get rid of him, gave in.
The husband spent all his time in hunting, and the family had never had so much meat before; but the man, who had seen for himself how poor they were, noticed with amazement that they did not seem to care about it, or to be hungry. ‘They must get food from somewhere,’ he thought, and one morning, when he pretended to be going out to hunt, he hid in a thicket to watch. Very soon they all left the house together, and walked to the other hut, which the girl’s husband saw for the first time, as it was hid in a hollow. He followed, and noticed that each one went up to the redbreast, and shook him by the claw; and he then entered boldly and shook the bird’s claw too. The whole party afterwards sat down to dinner, after which they all returned to their own hut.
The next day the husband declared that he was very ill, and could not eat anything; but this was only a presence so that he might get what he wanted. The family were all much distressed, and begged him to tell them what food he fancied.
‘Oh! I could not eat any food,’ he answered every time, and at each answer his voice grew fainter and fainter, till they thought he would die from weakness before their eyes.
‘There must be some thing you could take, if you would only say what it is,’ implored his wife.
‘No, nothing, nothing; except, perhaps—but of course that is impossible!’
‘No, I am sure it is not,’ replied she; ‘you shall have it, I promise—only tell me what it is.’
‘I think—but I could not ask you to do such a thing. Leave me alone, and let me die quietly.’
‘You shall not die,’ cried the girl, who was very fond of her husband, for he did not beat her as most girls’ husbands did. ‘Whatever it is, I will manage to get it for you.’
‘Well, then, I think, if I had that—redbreast, nicely roasted, I could eat a little bit of his wing!’
The wife started back in horror at such a request; but the man turned his face to the wall, and took no notice, as he thought it was better to leave her to herself for a little.
Weeping and wringing her hands, the girl went down to her mother. The brothers were very angry when they heard the story, and declared that, if any one were to die, it certainly should not be the robin. But all that night the man seemed getting weaker and weaker, and at last, quite early, the wife crept out, and stealing to the hut, killed the bird, and brought him home to her husband.
Just as she was going to cook it her two brothers came in. They cried out in horror at the sight, and, rushing out of the hut, declared they would never see her any more. And the poor girl, with a heavy heart, took the body of the redbreast up to her husband.
But directly she entered the room the man told her that he felt a great deal better, and that he would rather have a piece of bear’s flesh, well boiled, than any bird, however tender. His wife felt very miserable to think that their beloved redbreast had been sacrificed for nothing, and begged him