Another day the son-in-law rose early in the morning and went over to the old man’s lodge and kicked against the poles, calling to him, “Get up now and help me; I want you to go and stamp on the log-jam to drive out the buffalo.”  When the old man moved his feet on the jam and a buffalo ran out, the son-in-law was not ready for it, and it passed by him before he shot the arrow; so he only wounded it.  It ran away, but at last it fell down and died.

The old man followed close after it, and as he ran along he came to a place where a great clot of blood had fallen from the buffalo’s wound.  When he came to where this clot of blood was lying on the ground, he stumbled and fell and spilled his arrows out of his quiver, and while he was picking them up he picked up also the clot of blood and hid it in his quiver.

“What are you picking up?” called the son-in-law.

“Nothing,” replied the old man.  “I fell down and spilled my arrows, and I am putting them back.”

“Ah, old man,” said the son-in-law, “you are lazy and useless.  You no longer help me.  Go back now to the camp and tell your daughters to come down here and help carry in this meat.”

The old man went to the camp and told his daughters of the meat that their husband had killed, and they went down to the killing ground.  Then he went to his own lodge and said to his wife, “Hurry, now, put the stone kettle on the fire.  I have brought home something from the killing.”

“Ah,” said the old woman, “has our son-in-law been generous and given us something nice to eat?”

“No,” replied the old man, “but hurry and put the kettle on the fire.”

After a time the water began to boil and the old man turned his quiver upside down over the pot, and immediately there came from it a sound of a child crying, as if it were being hurt.  The old people both looked in the kettle and there they saw a little boy, and they quickly took him out of the water.  They were surprised and did not know where the child had come from.  The old woman wrapped the child up and wound a line about its wrappings to keep them in place, making a lashing for the child.  Then they talked about it, wondering what should be done with it.  They thought that if their son-in-law knew it was a boy he would kill it; so they determined to tell their daughters that the baby was a girl, for then their son-in-law would think that he was going to have another wife.  So he would be glad.  They called the child Kut-o-yis’—­Clot of Blood.

The son-in-law and his wives came home, bringing the meat, and after a little time they heard the child in the next lodge crying.  The son-in-law said to his youngest wife, “Go over to your mother’s and see whether that baby is a boy or a girl.  If it is a boy, tell your parents to kill it.”

Soon the young woman came back and said to her husband, “It is a girl baby.  You are to have another wife.”