" So he picked from the
ground a blade of dry grass, and bade the youth eat it. He did so, and
found himself a moose (or a _horse_). Then he fed richly on the
young grass till he had enough, when the Fox gave him a second straw,
and he became a man again. "Friend," said the Fox, "there is an Indian
village on the main-land, where there is to be a great feast, a grand
dance. Would you like to be there?" "Indeed I would," replied the
youth. "Then wait till dark, and I will take you there," said the Fox.
And when night came he bade the youth close his eyes and enter the
river, and take hold of the end of his tail, while he should draw. So
in the tossing sea they went on for hours. _Thought_ the youth,
"We shall never get there." _Said_ the Fox, "Yes, we will, but
keep your eyes shut." So it went on for another hour, when the youth
_thought_ again, "We shall never reach land." _Said_ the Fox,
"Yes, we shall." However, after a time he opened his eyes, when they
were only ten feet from the shore, and this cost them more time and
trouble than all the previous swim ere they had the beach under foot.
It was his own village. The festival was for the marriage of his own
wife to one of the young men who had pushed him overboard. Great was
his magic power, great was his anger; he became strong as death. Then
he went to his own wigwam, and his wife, seeing him, cried aloud for
joy, and kissed him and wept all at once.
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