He was not alone; his comrade, "The Hail that Strikes," accompanied him.
Harpstenah had been tanning deer-skin near her door.

She had planted two poles firmly in the ground, and on them she had stretched the deer-skin.
With an iron instrument she constantly scraped the skin, throwing water upon it.

She had smoked it too, and now it was ready to make into mocassins or leggins.

She had determined, while she was tanning the deer-skin, how she would embroider them.

They should be richer and handsomer even than those of their chief's son; nay, gayer than those worn by the chief himself.