grandmother; I shall let you live." He turned around and went home.
364. When Nayénĕzgani got home from this journey, bearing no trophy, Wind again whispered in his ear and said: "Tieín (Poverty) still lives." He asked his mother where Poverty used to live, but she would not answer him. It was Wind who again informed him. "There are two, and they dwell at Dsĭldasdzĭ′ni."
365. He went to Dsĭldasdzĭ′ni next day and found there an old man and an old woman, who were filthy, clad in tattered garments, and had no goods in their house. "Grandmother, grandfather," he said, "a cruel man I shall be. I have come to kill you." "Do not kill us, my grandchild," said the old man: "it would not be well for the people, in days to come, if we were dead; then they would always wear the same clothes and never get anything new. If we live, the clothing will wear out and the people will make new and beautiful garments; they will gather goods and look handsome. Let us live and we will pull their old clothes to pieces for them." So he spared them and went home without a trophy.
366. The next journey was to seek Dítsĭ′n, Hunger, who lived, as Nĭ′ltsi told him, at Tlóhadaskaí, White Spot of Grass. At this place he found twelve of the Hunger People. Their chief was a big, fat man, although he had no food to eat but the little brown cactus. "I am going to be cruel," said Nayénĕzgani, "so that men may suffer no more the pangs of hunger and die no more of hunger." "Do not kill us," said the chief, "if you wish your people to increase and be happy in the days to come. We are your friends. If we die, the people will not care for food; they will never know the pleasure of cooking and eating nice things, and they will never care for the pleasures of the chase." So he spared also the Dĭtsĭ′n, and went home without a trophy.
367. When Nayénĕzgani came back from the home of Hunger, Nĭ′ltsi spoke to him no more of enemies that lived. The Slayer of the Alien Gods said to his mother: "I think all the anáye must be dead, for every one I meet now speaks to me as a relation; they say to me, 'my grandson,' my son,' 'my brother.'"157 Then he took off his armor—his knife, moccasins, leggings, shirt, and cap—and laid them in a pile; he put with them the various weapons which the Sun had given him, and he sang this song:—
Now Slayer of the Alien Gods arrives
Here from the house made of the dark stone knives.
From where the dark stone knives dangle on high,
You have the treasures, holy one, not I.
The Offspring of the Water now arrives,
Here from the house made of the serrate knives.
