und.

The cousin, being the elder, attended to the nets, and they encamped
near by, using the bark of the birch for a lodge to shelter them through
the night.

They lit a fire, and while they sat conversing with each other, the moon
arose. Not a breath of wind disturbed the smooth surface of the lake.
Not a cloud was seen. Wassamo looked out on the water toward their nets,
and he saw that the little black spots, which were no other than the
floats, dotting the lake, had disappeared.

"Cousin," he said, "let us visit our nets; perhaps we are fortunate."

When they drew up the nets they were rejoiced to see the meshes shining
white, all over, with the glittering prey. They landed in fine spirits,
and put away their canoe in safety from the winds.

"Wassamo," said the cousin, "you cook that we may eat."

Wassamo set about the work at once, and soon had his great kettle swung
upon its branch, while the cousin lay at his ease upon the other side of
the fire.

"Cousin," said Wassamo, "tell me stories or sing me some love-songs."

The cousin obeyed, and sung his plaintive songs; or he would frequently
break off in the midst of a mournful chant, and begin to recite a
mirthful story, and then in the midst of Wassamo's laughter he would
return to the plaintive ditty--just as it suited his fancy; for the
cousin was gay of spirit, and shifted his humor faster than the fleecy
clouds that appeared and disappeared in the night-sky over their heads.
In this changeful pastime the cousin ran his length, and then he fell
away, murmuring parts of his song or story, into a silvery sleep; with
the moon gliding through the branches and gilding his face.

Wassamo in the mean while had lost the sound of his cousin's voice in
the rich simmer of the kettle; and when its music pleased his ear the
most, as announcing that the fish were handsomely cooked, he lifted the
kettle from the fire. He spoke to his cousin, but he received no answer.

He went on with his housekeeping alone, and took the wooden ladle and
skimmed the kettle neatly, for the fish were very plump and fat. Wassamo
had a torch of twisted bark in one hand to give light, and when he came
to take out the fish, there was no one to have charge of the torch.

The cousin was so happy in his sleep, with the silver moon kissing his
cheeks, as though she were enamored of his fair looks, that Wassamo had
not the heart to call him up.

Binding his girdle upon his brow, in this he t