instantly jumping up and rubbing his eyes , mishosha cried out : " son - in - law , your moccasins are burning . i know it by the smell . " owasso rose up , deliberately and unconcerned . " no , my friend , " said he , " here are mine , " at the same time taking them down and drawing them on . " it is your moccasins that are burning . " mishosha dropped his head upon his breast . all his tricks were played out -- there was not so much as half a one left to help him out of the sorry plight he was in . " i believe , my grandfather , " added owasso , " that this is the moon in which fire attracts . i fear you must have set your foot and leg garments too near the fire , and they have been drawn in . now let us go forth to the hunt . " the old magician was compelled to follow him , and they pushed out into a great storm of snow , and hail , and wind , which had come on over night . neither the wind , the hail , nor the snow , had the slightest respect for the bare limbs of the old magician , for there was not the least virtue of magic in those parts of old mishosha 's body . after a while they quite stiffened under him , his body became hard , and the hair bristled in the cold wind , so that he looked to owasso -- who turned away from him , leaving the wicked old magician alone to ponder upon his past life . to owasso he looked like a tough old sycamore - tree more than a highly - gifted old magician .
his body became hard , and the hair bristled in the cold wind .
why did mishosha look like an old sycamore-tree ?
why did mishosha look like an old sycamore-tree ?