It was winter
time and the lodges of the bears were set under the shelter of a
hill where the cold wind would not blow on them and where they had
shelter among the trees and bushes.
He came at one end of the village to a hut where lived an old
woman. He pushed open the door and entered. Everybody who came
for flint always stopped there because it was the first lodge on
the edge of the village. Strangers were therefore not unusual in
the old woman's hut, and she welcomed the rabbit. She gave him a
seat and at night he lay with his feet to the fire.
The next morning the rabbit went to the lodge of the bear chief.
They sat together awhile and smoked. At last the bear chief spoke.
"What do you want, my grandson?"
"I have come for some flint to make arrows," answered the rabbit.
The bear chief grunted, and laid aside his pipe. Leaning back he
pulled off his robe and, sure enough, one half of his body was
flesh and the other half hard flint.
"Bring a stone hammer and give it to our guest," he bade his wife.
Then as the rabbit took the hammer he said: "Do not strike too
hard."
"Grandfather, I shall be careful," said the rabbit. With a stroke
he struck off a little flake of flint from the bear's body.
"Ni-sko-ke-cha? So big?" he asked.
"Harder, grandson; strike off bigger pieces," said the bear.
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