black
rock, which struck the West directly between the eyes, who returned the
favor with a blow of bulrush, that rung over the shoulders of Manabozho,
far and wide, like the whip-thong of the lightning among the clouds.

And now either rallied, and Manabozho poured in a tempest of black rock,
while Ningabiun discharged a shower of bulrush. Blow upon blow, thwack
upon thwack--they fought hand to hand until black rock and bulrush were
all gone. Then they betook themselves to hurling crags at each other,
cudgeling with huge oak-trees, and defying each other from one
mountain-top to another; while at times they shot enormous boulders of
granite across at each other's heads, as though they had been mere
jack-stones. The battle, which had commenced on the mountains, had
extended far west. The West was forced to give ground. Manabozho
pressing on, drove him across rivers and mountains, ridges and lakes,
till at last he got him to the very brink of the world.

"Hold!" cried the West. "My son, you know my power, and although I allow
that I am now fairly out of breath, it is impossible to kill me. Stop
where you are, and I will also portion you out with as much power as
your brothers. The four quarters of the globe are already occupied, but
you can go and do a great deal of good to the people of the earth, which
is beset with serpents, beasts and monsters, who make great havoc of
human life. Go and do good, and if you put forth half the strength you
have to-day, you will acquire a name that will last forever. When you
have finished your work I will have a place provided for you. You will
then go and sit with your brother, Kabinocca, in the North."

Manabozho gave his father his hand upon this agreement. And parting from
him, he returned to his own grounds, where he lay for some time sore of
his wounds.

These being, however, greatly allayed, and soon after cured by his
grandmother's skill in medicines, Manabozho, as big and sturdy as ever,
was ripe for new adventures. He set his thoughts immediately upon a war
excursion against the Pearl Feather, a wicked old manito, living on the
other side of the great lake, who had killed his grandfather. He begun
his preparations by making huge bows and arrows without number; but he
had no heads for his shafts. At last Noko told him that an old man, who
lived at some distance, could furnish him with such as he needed. He
sent her to get some. She soon returned with her wrapper full. Manab