All at once the cry of the foe burst on them like
screaming thunder; their ears rang with pain: they were well-nigh
killed, for all the care they had taken. But then they heard the
answering cry of their friend, and were no longer in danger from mere
noise.
The battle begun, the fight was fearful. The monsters, by their magic
with their rage, rose to the size of mountains. The tall pines were
torn up, the ground trembled as in an earthquake, rocks crashed upon
rocks, the conflict deepened and darkened; no tempest was ever so
terrible. Then the male Chenoo was heard crying: "_N'loosook!
choogooye! abog unumooe!_" "My son-in-law, come and help me!"
He ran to the fight. What he saw was terrible! The Chenoos, who upright
would have risen far above the clouds as giants of hideous form, were
struggling on the ground. The female seemed to be the conqueror. She
was holding her foe down, she knelt on him, she was doing all she could
to thrust her dragon's horn into his ear. And he, to avoid death, was
moving his head rapidly from side to side, while she, mocking his cries,
said, "You have no son-in-law to help you." _Neen nabujjeole_,
"I'll take your cursed life, [Footnote: It is generally said that there
can be no swearing in Indian, but Mr. Rand corrects this gross error.
"It is a mistake," he writes, "to suppose that the red man cannot swear
in his own tongue.
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