rely turned the log until it
burned more brightly, and laughed and sang as he had done before, only a
little louder: "O Kabibonokka, you are but my fellow-mortal!"

"I will freeze him with my bitter breath!" roared Kabibonokka; "I will
turn him to a block of ice," and he burst into the lodge of Shingebis.
But although Shingebis knew by the sudden coldness on his back that
Kabibonokka stood beside him, he did not even turn his head, but blew
upon the embers, struck the coals and made the sparks flicker up the
smoke-flue, while he laughed and sang over and over again: "O
Kabibonokka, you are but my fellow-mortal!"

Drops of sweat trickled down Kabibonokka's forehead, and his limbs grew
hot and moist and commenced to melt away. From his snow-sprinkled locks
the water dripped as from the melting icicles in spring, and the steam
rose from his shoulders. He rushed from the lodge and howled upon the
moorland; for he could not bear the heat and the merry laughter and the
singing of Shingebis, the diver.

"Come out and wrestle with me!" cried Kabibonokka. "Come and meet me
face to face upon the moorland!" And he stamped upon the ice and made it
thicker; breathed upon the snow and made it harder; raged upon the
frozen marshes against Shingebis, and the warm, merry fire that had
driven him away.

Then Shingebis, the diver, left his lodge and all the warmth and light
that was in it, and he wrestled all night long on the marshes with
Kabibonokka, until the North-wind's frozen grasp became more feeble and
his strength was gone. And Kabibonokka rose from the fight and fled from
Shingebis far away into the very heart of his frozen kingdom in the
north.

Shawondasee, the lazy one, ruler of the South-wind, had his kingdom in
the land of warmth and pleasure of the sunlit tropics. The smoke of his
pipe would fill the air with a dreamy haze that caused the grapes and
melons to swell into delicious ripeness. He breathed upon the fields
until they yielded rich tobacco; he dropped soft and starry blossoms on
the meadows and filled the shaded woods with the singing of a hundred
different birds.

How the wild rose and the shy arbutus and the lily, sweet and languid,
loved the idle Shawondasee! How the frost-weary and withered earth would
melt and mellow at his sunny touch! Happy Shawondasee! In all his life
he had a single sorrow--just one sleepy little sting of pain. He had
seen a maiden clad in purest green, with hair as yellow as the b