|WASSAMO was living with his parents on the shore of a large bay far out
in the north-east. One day, when the season had commenced for fish to be
plenty, the mother of Wassamo said to him: "My son, I wish you would go
to yonder point and see if you cannot procure me some fish, and ask your
cousin to accompany you."
Wassamo did so. He set out with his cousin, and in the course of the
afternoon they arrived at the fishing-ground.
The cousin, being the elder, attended to the nets. When these were set
in the lake, the youths 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, had disappeared.
"Netawis," 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 sang his plaintive songs, frequently breaking off
in the midst of a mournful chant to recite a mirthful story, then in the
midst of Wassamo's laughter returning to the plaintive ditty--just as
it suited his fancy; for Netawis 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 fell away into a silvery sleep, murmuring parts of his
song or story, while the moon glided through the branches and gilded his
face as though she were enamored of his fair looks.
Wassamo in the meanwhile 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. But he
had a torch of twisted hark 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, that Wassamo had not the heart to call him up.
Binding his girdle upon his brow, in this he thrust the torch and went
forward to prepare the evening meal with the light dancing through the
green leaves at every turn of his head.
He again spoke to his cousin, but gently, to learn whether he was
in truth asleep. The cousin murmured, but made no reply; and Wassamo
stepped softly about with the dancing fire-plume lighting up the gloom
of the forest at every turn he made.
Suddenly he heard a laugh. It was double, or the one must be the perfect
echo of the other. To Wassamo there appeared to be two persons at no
great distance.
"Cousin," said Wassamo, "some person is near us. I hear a laugh; awake
and let us look out!"
The cousin made no answer.
Again Wassamo heard the laughter in mirthful repetition, like the ripple
of the water-brook upon the shining pebbles of the stream. Peering
out as far as the line of the torchlight pierced into the darkness, he
beheld two beautiful young maidens smiling on him.
Their countenances appeared to be perfectly; white, like the fresh snow.
He crouched down and pushed his cousin, saying in a low voice, "Awake!
awake! here are two young women."
But he received no answer. His cousin seemed lost to all earthly sense
and sound; for he lay unmoved, smiling, in the calm light of the moon.
Wassamo started up alone and glided toward the strange maidens.
As he approached them he was more and more enraptured with their beauty;
but just as he was about to speak to them, he suddenly fell to the
earth, and they all three vanished together. The moon shone where they
had just stood, but saw them not. Only a gentle sound of music and soft
voices accompanied their vanishing, and this wakened the cousin.
As Netawis opened his eyes in a dreamy way, he saw the kettle near him.
Some of the fish, he observed, were in the bowl. The fire flickered and
made light and shadow; but nowhere was Wassamo to be seen. He waited,
and waited again, in the expectation that Wassamo would appear.
"Perhaps," thought the cousin, "he is gone out again to visit the nets."
He looked off that way, but the canoe still lay close by the rock at the
shore. He searched and found footsteps in the ashes, and out upon the
green ground a little distance, and then they were utterly lost.
He was now greatly troubled in spirit, and he called aloud, "Wassamo!
cousin! cousin!" but there was no answer to his call. He called again
in his sorrow, louder and louder, "Wassamo! Wassamo! cousin! cousin!
whither are you gone?" But no answer came to his voice of wailing. He
started for the edge of the woods, crying as he ran, "My cousin!" and
"Oh, my cousin!"
Hither and thither through the forest he sped with all his fleetness of
foot and quickness of spirit; and when at last he found that no voice
would answer him, he burst into tears and sobbed aloud.
He returned to the fire and sat down. He mused upon the absence of
Wassamo with a sorely troubled heart. "He may have been playing me a
trick," he thought; but it was full time that the trick should be at
an end, and Wassamo returned not. The cousin cherished other hopes, but
they all died away in the morning light, when he found himself alone by
the Hunting-fire.
"How shall I answer to his friends for Wassamo?" thought the cousin.
"Although his parents are my kindred and are well assured that their son
is my bosom-friend, will they receive that belief in the place of him
who is lost? No, no; they will say that I have slain him, and they will
require blood for blood. Oh! my cousin, wither are you gone?"
He would have rested to restore his mind to its peace, but he could not
sleep; and without further regard to net or canoe, he set off for the
village, running all the way.
As they saw him approaching at such speed and alone, they said, "Some
accident has happened."
When he had come into the village, he told them how Wassamo had
disappeared. He stated all the circumstances. He kept nothing to
himself. He declared all that he knew.
Some said, "He has killed him in the dark." Others said, "It is
impossible; they were like brothers; they would have fallen for each
other. It cannot be."
At the cousin's request, many of the men visited the fish-fire. There
were no marks of blood. No hasty steps were there to show that any
conflict or struggle had occurred. Every leaf on every tree was in its
place; and they saw, as the cousin had seen, that the foot-prints of
Wassamo stopped in the wood, as if he had gone no farther upon the earth
but had ascended into the air.
They returned to the village, and no man was the wiser as to the strange
and sudden vanishing of Wassamo. None ever looked to see him more; only
the parents, who still hoped and awaited their son's return.
The Spring, with all its blossoms and its delicate newness of life,
came among them; the Indians assembled from all the country round to
celebrate their spring feast.
Among them came the sad cousin of Wassamo. He was pale and thin as the
shadow of the shaft that flies. The pain of his mind had changed his
features, and wherever he turned his eyes, they were dazzled with the
sight of the red blood of his friend.
The parents of Wassamo, far gone in despair and weary with watching for
his return, now demanded the life of Netawis. The village was stirred to
its very heart by their loud lamentings; and after a struggle of pity,
they decided to give the young man's life to the parents. They said that
they had waited long enough. A day was appointed on which the cousin was
to yield his life for his friend's.
He was a brave youth, and they bound him only by his word to be ready
at the appointed hour. He said that he was not afraid to die; for he was
innocent of the great wrong they laid to his charge.
A day or two before the time set to take his life, he wandered sadly
along the shore of the lake. He looked at the glassy water, and more
than once the thought to end his griefs by casting himself in its depths
came upon him with such sudden force that only by severe self-control
was he able to turn his steps in another direction. He reflected--
"They will say that I was guilty if I take my own life. No. I will give
them my blood for that of my cousin."
He walked on with slow steps, but he found no comfort, turn where he
would; the sweet songs of the forest jarred upon his ear; the beauty of
the blue sky pained his sight; and the soft green earth, as he trod upon
it, seemed harsh to his foot and sent a pang through every nerve.
"Oh, where is my cousin?" he kept saying to himself.
Meanwhile, when Wassamo fell senseless before the two young women in the
wood, he lost all knowledge of himself until he awakened in a distant
scene. He heard persons conversing. One spoke in a tone of command,
saying:
"Foolish ones, is this the way that you rove about at nights without our
knowledge? Put that person you have brought on that couch of yours, and
do not let him lie upon the ground."
Wassamo felt himself moved, he knew not how, and placed upon a couch.
Some time after, the spell seemed to be a little lightened, and on
opening his eyes, he was surprised to find that he was lying in a
spacious and shining lodge extending as far as the eye could reach. One
spoke to him and said:
"Stranger, awake, and take something wherewith to refresh yourself."
He obeyed the command and sat up. On either side of the lodge he beheld
rows of people seated in orderly array. At a distance he could see two
stately persons, who looked rather more in years than the others, and
who appeared to exact obedience from all around them. One of them, whom
he heard addressed as the Old Spirit-man, spoke to Wassamo.
"My son," said he, "know it was those foolish maidens who brought
you hither. They saw you at the fishing-ground. When you attempted
to approach them you fell senseless, and at the same moment they
transported you to this place. You are now under the earth. But be at
ease. We will make your stay with us pleasant. I am the Guardian Spirit
of the Sand Mountains. They are my charge. I pile them up and blow them
about and do whatever I will with them. It keeps me very busy, but I am
hale for my age, and I love to be employed. I have often wished to get
one of your race to marry among us. If you can make up your mind to
remain, I will give you one of my daughters--the one who smiled on you
first the night you were brought away from your parents and friends."
Wassamo dropped his head and made no answer. The thought that he should
behold his kindred no more made him sad.
He was silent, and the Old Spirit continued: "Your wants will all be
supplied; but you must be careful not to stray far from the lodge. I am
afraid of that Spirit who rules all islands lying in the lakes. He is my
bitter enemy, for I have refused him my daughter in marriage; and when
he learns that you are a member of my family, he will seek to harm you.
There is my daughter," added the Old Spirit, pointing toward her. "Take
her. She shall be your wife."
Forthwith Wassamo and the Old Spirit's daughter sat near each other in
the lodge, and they were man and wife.
One evening the Old Spirit came in after a busy day's work ont among the
sand-hills, in the course of which he had blown them all ont of shape
with great gusts of wind, strewn them about in a thousand directions and
brought them back and piled them up in all sorts of misshapen heaps.
At the close of this busy day, when the Old Spirit came in very much out
of breath, he said to Wassamo:
"Son-in-law, I am in want of tobacco. None grows about this dry place
of mine. You shall return to your people and procure me a supply. It
is seldom that the few who pass these sand-hills offer me a piece
of tobacco--it is a rare plant in these parts--but when they do, it
immediately comes to me. Just so," he added, putting his hand out of
the side of the lodge and drawing in several pieces of tobacco. Some
one passing at that moment had offered it as a fee to the Old Spirit, to
keep the sand-hills from blowing about till they had got by.
Other gifts besides tobacco came in the same way to the side of the
lodge--sometimes a whole bear, then a wampum-robe, then a string of
birds--and the Sand-Spirits altogether led an easy life; for they
were not at the trouble to hunt or clothe themselves; and whenever the
housekeeping began to fall short, nothing would happen but a wonderful
storm of dust, all the sand-hills being straightway put in an uproar,
and the contributions would at once begin to pour in at the side windows
of the lodge, till all wants were supplied.
After Wassamo had been among these curious people several months, the
old Sand-Spirit said to him:
"Son-in-law, you must not be surprised at what you will see next; for
since you have been with us you have never known us to go to sleep. It
has been summer, when the sun never sets here where we live. But now,
what you call winter is coming on. You will soon see us lie down, and we
shall not rise again till the spring. Take my advice. Do not leave the
lodge. I have sure knowledge that that knavish Island Spirit is on the
prowl, and as he has command of a particular kind of storm, which comes
from the south-west, he only waits his opportunity to catch you abroad
and do you mischief. Try and amuse yourself. That cupboard," pointing
to a corner of the lodge, "is never empty; for it is there that all the
offerings are handed in while we are asleep. It is never empty, and--"
But ere the old Sand-Spirit could utter another word, a loud rattling of
thunder was heard, and instantly not only the Old Spirit but every one
of his family vanished out of sight.
When the storm had passed by, they all reappeared in the lodge. This
sudden vanishing and reappearance occurred at every tempest.
"You are surprised," said the Old Spirit, "to see us disappear when it
thunders. The reason is this: that noise which you fancy is thunder is
our enemy the Island Spirit hallooing on his way home from the hunt. We
get out of sight that we may escape the necessity of asking him to come
in and share our evening meal. We are not afraid of him, not in the
least."
Just then it chanced to thunder again, and Wassamo observed that his
father-in-law made, extraordinary despatch to conceal himself, although
no stranger was in view, at all resembling in any way the Island Spirit.
Shortly after this the season of sleep began, and one by one they laid
themselves down to the long slumber.
The Old Spirit was the last to drop away; and before he yielded, he went
forth and had his last sport with the sand-hills. He so tossed and vexed
the poor hills, scattered them to and fro, and whirled them up in the
air and far over the land, that it was days and days before they got
hack to anything like their natural shape.
While his relations were enjoying this long sleep, Wassamo amused
himself as best he could. The cupboard never failed him once; for visit
it when he i would, he always found a fresh supply of game and every
other dainty which his heart desired.
But his chief pastime was to listen to the voices of the travelers who
passed by the window at the side of the lodge, where they made their
requests for comfortable weather and an easy journey.
These were often mingled with loud complainings, such as "Ho! how the
sand jumps about!"
"Take away that hill!"
"I am lost!"
"Old Sand-Spirit, where are you? Help this way!" which indicated that
such as were journeying through the hills had their own troubles to
encounter.
As the spring-light of the first day of spring shone into the lodge, the
whole family arose and went about the affairs of the day as though they
had been slumbering only for a single night. The rest seemed to have
done the Old Spirit much good, for he was very cheerful. Putting his
head forth from the window for a puff at a sand-hill, which was his
prime luxury in a morning, he said to Wassamo:
"Son-in-law, you have been very patient with our long absence from your
company, and you shall be rewarded. In a few days you may start with
your wife to visit your relations. You can be absent one year, but
at the end of that time, you must return. When you get to your home
village, you must first go in alone. Leave your wife at a short distance
from the lodge, and when you are welcome, then send for her. When there,
do not be surprised that she disappears whenever you hear it thunder."
He added, with a sly look, "That old Island Spirit has a brother down
in that part of the country. You will prosper in all things, for my
daughter is very diligent. All the time that you pass in sleep, she will
be at work. The distance is short to your village. A path leads directly
to it, and when you get there, do not forget my wants as I stated to you
before."
Wassamo promised obedience to these directions, and at the appointed
time set out in company with his wife. They traveled on a pleasant
course, his wife leading the way, until they reached a rising ground.
At the highest point of this ground, she said, "We shall soon get to
your country."
It suddenly became broad day, as they came upon a high bank. Then they
passed, unwet, for a short distance under the lake and presently emerged
from the water at the sand-banks, just off the shore where Wassamo had
set his nets on the night when he had been borne away by the two strange
females.
Wassamo now left his wife sheltered in a neighboring wood, while he
advanced toward the village alone. When he turned the first point of
land by the lake he beheld his cousin as he walked the shore, musing
sadly, and from time to time breaking forth in mournful cries.
With the speed of lightning the cousin rushed forward. "Wassamo!
Wassamo!" he cried, "is it indeed you? Whence have you come, oh, my
cousin?" They fell upon each other's necks and wept aloud. And then,
without further delay or question, the cousin ran off with breathless
despatch to the village. He seemed like a shadow upon the open ground,
he sped so fast.
He entered the lodge where sat the mother of Wassamo in mourning for her
son. "Hear me," said the cousin. "I have seen him whom you accuse me of
having killed. He will be here even while we speak."
He had scarcely uttered these words when the whole village was astir in
an instant. All ran out and strained their eyes to catch the first view
of him whom they had thought dead. And when Wassamo came forward, they
at first fell from him as though he had been in truth one returned from
the Spiritland. He entered the lodge of his parents. They saw that it
was Wassamo, living, breathing and as they had ever known him. And joy
lit up the lodge-circle as though a new fire had been kindled in the
eyes of his friends and kinsfolk.
He related all that had happened to him from the moment of his leaving
the temporary night-lodge with the flame on his head. He told them of
the strange land in which he had sojourned during his absence. He added
to his mother, apart from the company, that he was married, and that he
had left his wife at a short distance from the village.
She went out immediately in search of her; they soon found her in the
wood, and all the women in the village conducted her in honor to the
lodge of her new relations. The Indian people were astonished at her
beauty, at the whiteness of her skin, and still more, that she was able
to talk with them in their own language.
The village was happy, and the feast went on as long as the supply
held out. All were delighted to make the acquaintance of the old
Sand-Spirit's daughter; and as they had heard that he was a magician
and guardian of great power, the tobacco which he had sent for by his
son-in-law came in great abundance with every visitor.
The summer and fall which Wassamo thus passed with his parents and the
people of his tribe were prosperous with all the country.
The cousin of Wassamo recovered heart and sang once more his sad or
mirthful chants, just as the humor was upon him; but he kept close by
Wassamo and watched him in all his movements. He made it a point to ask
many questions of the country he came from; some of which his cousin
replied to, but others he left entirely unanswered.
At every thunderstorm, as the old Sand-Spirit had foreboded, the wife of
Wassamo disappeared, much to the astonishment of her Indian company. And
to their greater wonder she was never idle, night or day.
When the winter came on, Wassamo prepared for her a comfortable lodge to
which she withdrew for her long sleep; and he gave notice to his friends
that they must not disturb her, as she would not be with them again
until the spring returned.
Before lying down, she said to her husband, "No one but yourself must
pass on this side of the lodge." The winter passed away with snows
outside, and sports and stories in the lodge; and when the sap of the
maple began to flow, the wife of Wassamo wakened and immediately set
about work as before. She helped at the maple-trees with the others; and
as if luck were in her presence, the sugar-harvest was greater than had
been ever known in all that region.
The gifts of tobacco after this came in even more freely than they had
at first; and as each giver brought his bundle to the lodge of Wassamo,
he asked for the usual length of life, for success as a hunter, and
for a plentiful supply of food. They particularly desired that the
sand-hills might be kept quiet, so that their lands might be moist and
their eyes clear of dust to sight the game.
Wassamo replied that he would mention each of their requests to his
father-in-law.
The tobacco was stored in sacks, and on the outside of the skins, that
there might be no mistake as to their wants, each one who had given
tobacco had painted and marked in distinct characters the totem or
family emblem of his family and tribe. These the old Sand-Spirit could
read at his leisure and do what he thought best for each of his various
petitioners.
When the time for his return arrived, Wassamo warned his people that
they should not follow him or attempt to take note how he disappeared.
He then took the moose-skin sacks filled with tobacco and bade farewell
to all but Netawis. The latter insisted on the privilege of attending
Wassamo and his wife for a distance, and when they reached the
sand-banks he expressed the strongest wish to proceed with them on their
journey. Wassamo told him that it could not be; that only spirits could
exert the necessary power, and that there were no such spirits at hand.
They then took an affectionate leave of each other, Wassamo enjoining
upon his cousin, at risk of his life, not to look back when he had once
started to return.
The cousin, sore at heart but constrained to obey, parted from them;
and as he walked sadly away, he heard a gliding noise as of the sound of
waters that were cleaved.
He returned home and told his friends that Wassamo and his wife had
disappeared, but that he knew not how. No one doubted his word in
anything now.
Wassamo with his wife soon reached their home at the hills. The old
Sand-Spirit was in excellent health and delighted to see them. He hailed
their return with open arms; and he opened his arms so very wide, that
when he closed them he not only embraced Wassamo and his wife, but all
of the tobacco-sacks which they had brought with them.
The requests of the Indian people were made known to him; he replied
that he would attend to all, but that he must first invite his friends
to smoke with him. Accordingly he at once despatched his pipe-bearer and
confidential aid to summon various Spirits of his acquaintance, and set
the time for them to come.
Meanwhile he had a word of advice for his son-inlaw, Wassamo. "My son,"
said he, "some of these Manitos that I have asked to come here are of a
very wicked temper, and I warn you especially of that Island Spirit who
wished to marry my daughter. He is a very bad-hearted Monedo, and would
like to do you harm. Some of the company, however, you will find to be
very friendly. A caution for you. When they come in, do you sit close by
your wife; if you do not, you will be lost. She only can save you; for
those who are expected to come are so powerful that they will otherwise
draw you from your seat and toss you out of the lodge as though you were
a feather. You have only to observe my words and all will be well."
Wassamo took heed to what the Old Spirit said and answered that he would
obey.
About midday the company began to assemble; and such a company Wassamo
had never looked on before. There were Spirits from all parts of the
country; such strange-looking persons, and in dresses so wild and
outlandish! One entered who smiled on him. This, Wassamo was informed,
was a Spirit who had charge of the affairs of a tribe in the North, and
he was as pleasant and cheery a Spirit as one would wish to see. Soon
after, Wassamo heard a great rumbling and roaring, as of waters tumbling
over rocks; and presently, with a vast bluster, and fairly shaking the
lodge with his deep-throated hail of welcome to the old Sand-Spirit, in
rolled another, who was the Guardian Spirit and special director of a
great cataract or water-fall not far off.
Then came with crashing steps the owner of several whirlwinds, which
were in the habit of raging about in the neighboring country. And
following this one glided in a sweet-spoken, gentle-faced little Spirit,
who was understood to represent a summer gale that was accustomed to
blow in at the lodge-doors, toward evening, and to be particularly well
disposed toward young lovers.
The last to appear was a great rocky-headed fellow; and he was twice
as stony in his manners. He swaggered and strided in, and raised such
a commotion with his great green blanket when he shook it, that Wassamo
was nearly taken off his feet; and it was only by main force that he was
able to cling by his wife. This, which was the last to enter, was that
wicked Island Spirit, who looked grimly enough at Wassamo's wife as he
passed in.
Soon after, the old Sand-Spirit, who was a great speech-maker, arose and
addressed the assembly.
"Brothers," he said, "I have invited you to partake with me of the
offerings made by the mortals on earth, which have been brought by our
relation," pointing to Wassamo. "Brothers, you see their wishes and
desires plainly set forth here," laying his hand upon the figured
moose-skins. "The offering is worthy of our consideration. Brothers, I
see nothing on my part to hinder our granting their requests; they do
not appear to be unreasonable. Brothers, the offer is gratifying. It is
tobacco--an article which we have lacked until we scarcely knew how to
use our pipes. Shall we grant their requests? One thing more I would
say. Brothers, it is this: There is my son-in-law; he is mortal. I wish
to detain him with me, and it is with us jointly to make him one of us."
"Hoke! hoke!" ran though the whole company of Spirits, and "Hoke! hoke!"
they cried again. And it was understood that the petitioners were to
have all they asked, and that Wassamo was thenceforward fairly accepted
as a member of the great family of Spirits.
As a wedding-gift the Old Spirit promised his son-in-law one request,
which should be promptly granted.
"Let there be no sand-squalls among my father's people for three months
to come," said Wassamo.
"So shall it be," answered the old Sand-Spirit.
The tobacco was now divided in equal shares among the company. They
filled their pipes--and huge pipes they were! And such clouds they blew,
that they rushed forth out of the lodge and brought on night in all the
country round about, several hours before its time.
After a time passed in silence, the Spirits rose up, and bearing off
their tobacco-sacks, went smoking through the country, losing themselves
in their own fog, till a late hour in the morning, when all of their
pipes being burned out, each departed on his own business.
The very next day the old Sand-Spirit, who was very much pleased with
the turn affairs had taken at his entertainment, addressed Wassamo:
"Son-in-law, I have made up my mind to allow you another holiday as an
acknowledgment of the handsome manner in which you acquitted yourself
of your embassy. You may visit your parents and relatives once more, to
tell them that their wishes are granted and to take your leave of them
forever. You can never, after, visit them again."
Wassamo at once set out, reached his people, and was heartily welcomed.
They asked for his wife, and Wassamo informed them that she had tarried
at home to look after a son, a fine little Sand-Spirit, who had been
born to them since his return.
Having delivered all of his messages and passed a happy time, Wassamo
said, "I must now bid you all farewell forever."
His parents and friends raised their voices in loud lamentation; they
clung to him, and as a special favor, which he could now grant, being
himself a spirit, he allowed them to accompany him to the sand-banks.
They all seated themselves to watch his last farewell. The day was mild,
the sky clear, not a cloud appearing to dim the heavens, or a breath
of wind to ruffle the tranquil waters. A perfect silence fell upon the
company. They gazed with eager eyes fastened on Wassamo, as he waded
ont into the water, waving his hands. They saw him descend, more and
more, into the depths. They beheld the waves close over his head, and a
loud and piercing wail went up which rent the sky.
They looked again; a red flame, as if the sun had glanced on a billow,
lighted the spot for an instant; but the Feather of Flames, Wassamo of
the Fire-Plume, had disappeared from home and kindred and the familiar
paths of his youth, forever.
[Illustration: 0288]