Coming to a place where the moose had lain down, they saw that the
young wolves had made a fresh start after their prey. "'Why," said the
Old Wolf, "this moose is thin. I know by the tracks. I can always
tell whether they are fat or not." A little farther on, one of the
young wolves, in dashing at the moose, had broken a tooth on a tree.

"Manabozho," said the Old Wolf, "one of your grandchildren has shot at
the game. Take his arrow; there it is."

"No," replied Manabozho, "what will I do with a dirty dog's tooth?"

The Old Wolf took it up, and behold it was a beautiful silver arrow.

When they at last overtook them, they found that the youngsters had
killed a very fat moose. Manabozho was very hungry, but the Old Wolf
just then again exerted his magical powers, and Manabozho saw nothing
but the bones picked quite clean. He thought to himself, "Just as I
expected; dirty, greedy fellows. If it had not been for this log at my
back I should have been in time to have got a mouthful"; and he cursed
the bushy tail which he carried to the bottom of his heart.

The Old Wolf finally called out to one of the young ones, "Give some
meat to your grandfather."

One of them obeyed, and coming near to Manabozho he presented him the
end of his own bushy tail, which was now nicely seasoned with burs
gathered in the course of the hunt. Manabozho jumped up and called
out: "You dog, do you think I am going to eat you?" And he walked off
in anger.