girl could do to drag the great trout within
doors. She cooked it, and its flavor was so delicious that she asked no
more questions as to how he had come by it.

The next morning the little spirit or boy-man set off as he had the day
before.

He made all sorts of sport with his ball as he frolicked along--high
over his head he would toss it, straight up into the air; then far
before him, and again, in mere merriment of spirit, he would send it
bounding back, as if he had plenty of speed and enough to spare in
running back after it. And the ball leaped and bounded about, and glided
through the air as if it were a live thing, and enjoyed the sport as
much as the boy-man himself.

When he came within hail of the four large men, who were fishing there
every day, he cast his ball with such force that it rolled into the
ice-hole about which they were busy. The boy, standing on the shore of
the lake, called out:

"Four-in-one, pray hand me my ball."

"No, indeed," they answered, setting up a grim laugh which curdled their
four dark faces all at once, "we shall not;" and with their
fishing-spears they thrust the ball under the ice.

"Good!" said the boy-man, "we shall see."

Saying which he rushed upon the four brothers and thrust them at one
push into the water. His ball bounded back to the surface, and, picking
it up, he ran off, tossing it before him in his own sportive way.
Outstripping it in speed he soon reached home, and remained within till
the next morning.

The four brothers, rising up from the water at the same time, dripping
and wroth, roared out in one voice a terrible threat of vengeance, which
they promised to execute the next day. They knew the boy's speed, and
that they could by no means overtake him.

By times in the morning, the four brothers were stirring in their lodge,
and getting ready to look after their revenge.

Their old mother, who lived with them, begged them not to go.

"Better," said she, "now that your clothes are dry, to think no more of
the ducking than to go and all four of you get your heads broken, as you
surely will, for that boy is a monedo or he could not perform such feats
as he does."

But her sons paid no heed to this wise advice, and, raising a great
war-cry, which frightened the birds overhead nearly out of their
feathers, they started for the boy's lodge among the rocks.

The little spirit or boy-man heard them roaring forth their threats as
they approached, but he