The arrow took no effect; and he shot and shot again till his
quiver was empty. Still the swan remained, moving round and round,
stretching its long neck and dipping its bill into the water, as if
heedless of the arrows shot at it. Odjibwa ran home, and got all
his own and his brother's arrows and shot them all away. He then
stood and gazed at the beautiful bird. While standing, he
remembered his brother's saying that in their deceased father's
medicine-sack were three magic arrows. Off he started, his anxiety
to kill the swan overcoming all scruples. At any other time, he
would have deemed it sacrilege to open his father's medicine-sack;
but now he hastily seized the three arrows and ran back, leaving the
other contents of the sack scattered over the lodge. The swan was
still there. He shot the first arrow with great precision, and came
very near to it. The second came still closer; as he took the last
arrow, he felt his arm firmer, and, drawing it up with vigor, saw it
pass through the neck of the swan a little above the breast. Still
it did not prevent the bird from flying off, which it did, however,
at first slowly, flapping its wings and rising gradually into the
airs and teen flying off toward the sinking of the sun.
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