whatever touched it was sure to stick fast.

But Manabozho was prepared with his oil and, rubbing his canoe freely
with it, from end to end, he slipped through with ease-and he was the
first person who had ever succeeded in passing through the Pitch-Water.

"Nothing like a little oil," said Manabozho to himself.

Having by this time come in view of land, he could see the lodge of the
Shining Manito, high upon a distant hill. At the dawn of day he put
his clubs and arrows in order and began his attack, yelling and
shouting and beating his drum, and calling out so as to make it appear
that he had many followers:

"Surround him! surround him! run up! run up!"

He stalked bravely forward, shouting aloud, "It was you that killed my
grandfather," and shot off a whole forest of arrows.

The Pearl Feather appeared on the height, blazing like the sun, and
paid back Manabozho with a tempest of bolts which rattled like hail.

All day long the fight was kept up, and Manabozho had fired all of his
arrows but three without effect, for the Shining Manito was clothed in
pure wampum. It was only by immense leaps to right and left that
Manabozho could save his head from the sturdy blows which fell about
him on every side, like pine.trees, from the hands of the Manito. He
was badly bruised, and at his very wits' end, when a large Woodpecker
flew past and lit on a tree. It was a bird he had known on the
prairie, near his grandmother's lodge.