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ONG, long ago, in the time when only a few people lived upon the earth,
there dwelt in the North a tribe of fishermen. Now, the best fish were
to be found in the summer season, far up in the frozen places where no
one could live in the winter at all. For the King of this Land of Ice
was a fierce old man called Ka-bib-on-okka by the Indians--meaning in our
language, the North Wind.
Though the Land of Ice stretched across the top of the world for
thousands and thousands of miles, Ka-bib-on-okka was not satisfied. If
he could have had his way there would have been no grass or green trees
anywhere; all the world would have been white from one year's end to
another, all the rivers frozen tight, and all the country covered with
snow and ice. .
Luckily there was a limit to his power. Strong and fierce as he was, he
was no match at all for Sha-won-dasee, the South Wind, whose home was
in the pleasant land of the sun-flower. Where Sha-won-dasee dwelt it was
always summer. When he breathed upon the land, violets appeared in the
woods, the wild rose bloomed on the yellow prairie, and the cooing dove
called musically to his mate. It was he who caused the melons to grow,
and the purple grapes; it was he whose warm breath ripened the corn in
the fields, clothed the forests in green, and made the earth all glad
and beautiful. Then, as the summer days grew shorter in the North,
Sha-won-dasee would climb to the top of a hill, fill his great pipe, and
sit there--dreaming and smoking. Hour after hour he
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sat and smoked; and the smoke, rising in the form of a vapor, filled the
air with a soft haze until the hills and lakes seemed like the hills
and lakes of dreamland. Not a breath of wind, not a cloud in the sky; a
great peace and stillness over all. Nowhere else in the world was there
anything so wonderful. It was Indian Summer.
Now it was that the fishermen who set their nets in the North worked
hard and fast, knowing the time was at hand when the South Wind would
fall asleep, and fierce old Ka-bib-on-okka would swoop down upon them
and drive them away. Sure enough! One morning a thin film of ice covered
the water where they set their nets; a heavy frost sparkled in the sun
on the bark roof of their huts.
That was sufficient warning. The ice grew thicker, the snow fell in
big, feathery flakes. Coyote, the prairie wolf, trotted by in his shaggy
white winter coat. Already they could hear a muttering and a moaning in
the distance.
"Ka-bib-on-okka is coming!" cried the fishermen. "Ka-bib-on-okka will
soon be here. It is time for us to go."
But Shin-ge-bis, the diver, only laughed.
Shin-ge-bis was always laughing. He laughed when he caught a big fish,
and he laughed when he caught none at all. Nothing could dampen his
spirits.
"The fishing is still good," he said to his comrades. "I can cut a hole
in the ice, and fish with a line instead of a net. What do _I_ care for
old Ka-bib-on-okka?"
They looked at him with amazement. It was true that Shin-ge-bis had
certain magic powers, and could change himself into a duck. They had
seen him do it; and that is why he came to be called the "diver." But
how would this enable him to brave the anger of the terrible North Wind?
"You had better come with us," they said. "Ka-bib-onokka is much
stronger than you. The biggest trees of the forest bend before his
wrath. The swiftest river that runs
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freezes at his touch. Unless you can turn yourself into a bear, or a
fish, you will have no chance at all."
But Shin-ge-bis only laughed the louder.
"My fur coat lent me by Brother Beaver and my mittens borrowed from
Cousin Muskrat will protect me in the daytime," he said, "and inside
my wigwam is a pile of big logs. Let Ka-bib-on-okka come in by my fire
if he dares."
So the fishermen took their leave rather sadly; for the laughing
Shin-ge-bis was a favorite with them, and, the truth is, they never
expected to see him again.
When they were gone, Shin-ge-bis set about his work in his own way.
First of all he made sure that he had plenty of dry bark and twigs and
pine-needles, to make the fire blaze up when he returned to his wigwam
in the evening. The snow by this time was pretty deep, but it froze
so hard on top that the sun did not melt it, and he could walk on the
surface without sinking in at all. As for fish, he well knew how to
catch them through the holes he made in the ice; and at night he would
go tramping home, trailing a long string of them behind him, and singing
a song he had made up himself:
"Ka-bib-on-okka, ancient man,
Come and scare me if you can.
Big and blustery though you be,