ok 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 pa