n
their petals, he was not happy, for he lived alone in heaven. But one
morning, when he sprang from the cloud bank where he had lain through
the night, and when he was passing over a yet unawakened village, Wabun
saw a maiden picking rushes from the brink of a river, and as he passed
above her she looked up with eyes as blue as two blue lakes. Every
morning she waited for him by the river bank, and Wabun loved the
beautiful maiden. So he came down to earth and he wooed her, wrapped her
in his robe of crimson till he changed her to a star and he bore her
high into the heavens. There they may be seen always together, Wabun and
the pure, bright star he loves--the Star of Morning.

But his brother, the fierce and cruel Kabibonokka, lived among the
eternal ice caves and the snowdrifts of the north. He would whisk away
the leaves in autumn and send the sleet through the naked forest; he
would drive the wild fowl swiftly to the south and rush through the
woods after them, roaring and rattling the branches. He would bind the
lakes and rivers in the keenest, hardest ice, and make them hum and sing
beneath him as he whirled along beneath the stars, and he would cause
great floes and icebergs to creak and groan and grind together in agony
of cold.

Once Kabibonokka was rushing southward after the departing wild fowl,
when he saw a figure on the frozen moorland. It was Shingebis, the
diver, who had stayed in the country of the North-wind long after his
tribe had gone away, and Shingebis was making ready to pass the winter
there in spite of Kabibonokka and his gusty anger. He was dragging
strings of fish to his winter lodge--enough to last him until spring
should set the rivers free and fill the air once more with wild fowl and
the waters with returning salmon.

What did Shingebis care for the anger of Kabibonokka? He had four great
logs to burn as firewood (one for each moon of the winter), and he
stretched himself before the blazing fire and ate and laughed and sang
as merrily as if the sun were warm and bright without his cheery
wigwam.

"Ho," cried Kabibonokka, "I will rush upon him! I will shake his lodge
to pieces! I will scatter his bright fire and drive him far to the
south!" And in the night Kabibonokka piled the snowdrifts high about the
lodge of Shingebis, and shook the lodge-pole and wailed around the
smoke-flue until the flames flared and the ashes were scattered on the
floor. But Shingebis cared not at all. He me