"Very well, you fix me as you fixed that other man; make me new again,
just as I used to be."
Metsi added: "I put pitch very thick, one foot all around, and put him
in the warm hole; covered him up. Pretty soon he began to stretch and
grow; grew till he was as good as ever. That is how I cured that man."
"That is good," said Putokya. "Fix me in that way; fix me just as you
fixed him."
"I will," said Metsi. "I will fix you just as I fixed that man, and
you will come out just as he did; you will be in the right way and
have no more trouble; you will never be sick again."
Metsi did everything as he had said; made a long deep hole, put in
fire and a great deal of pitch, a foot thick of it.
He placed Putokya on the pitch; put a wide flat stone over him, put on
others; put the stones on very quickly, till there was a great pile of
them.
The pitch began to burn well, to grow hot, to seethe, to boil, to
blaze, to burn Putokya.
He struggled to bound out of the pitch; the stones kept him down, the
pitch stuck to him. He died a dreadful death.
If Putokya had got out of the hole, there would have been hard times
in this world for Metsi.
When Putokya was dead under the pile of rocks, Metsi threw away his
old things, his basket and buckskin petticoat, put on his nice
clothes, and went along on his journey.
Metsi was a great cheat. He could change himself always, and he fooled
people whenever he had a chance; but he did a good thing that time,
when he burned up Putokya.