Then came the wind from the north ten times colder than ever. Great drifts of snow were heaped everywhere. Still the fire burned in the lodge of Shingebis. Every day he went as before and pulled up the rushes and reeds from the ice, and dived down for the fish which were always there. “I will go to his lodge and visit him,” said the north wind one day, as he saw Shingebis dragging home a great fish. He went that night to the lodge by the water. Shingebis did not know he was coming. He did not care. He cooked the great fish and ate his supper, then lay on his side before the burning log and sang a mocking song about the north wind. It was this: Ka neej, ka neej, Bi in, bi in, Bon in, bon in, Ok ee, ok ee, Ka weya, ka weya. Shingebis may have known that the one he was singing about stood outside his doorway, for he sang this song many times. The north wind could endure it no longer. He would see the creature that did not care for his hurting. He came in and sat down opposite the loon-bird, the great Shingebis. This did not frighten Shingebis. He simply rose and stirred the coals of the fire about the log till they blazed and sent out a great heat. “You are but my fellow creature,” kept singing the brave Shingebis, and he sat down again in his place. Very soon the icy tears began to flow down the cheeks of Kabibonokka. He said nothing aloud but whispered to himself: “I cannot endure this; I must leave.” As he slipped out of the doorway not saying a word, he flew as straight as he could to the places where the reeds and rushes grew. He froze the roots very tightly into the ice. “Shingebis shall have no more fish,” said the ice-cold wind. Yet Shingebis found fish all that cold winter. He was brave and laughed at his trials. At last the north wind gave up trying to conquer the great Shingebis. “Some manitou is helping him. I can neither freeze him nor starve him. I will let him alone.” When the four logs were burned and the four cold moons had passed, Shingebis still laughed and sang in his lodge by the water. Schoolcraft. XXXVIII. A RIP VAN WINKLE (Siwash) Many moons before the Siwashes used iron or gold or silver a strange thing happened. It must be true, for it is told by the old men to the boys to this day. White people do not always believe it. There lived a great Siwash hunter in the land in the west near the great river full of salmon, where it comes into the sea. His arrows gave him much meat; his great canoe and his spear gave him much fish. He had very many strings of shell money; the Siwash people call it hiaqua. No one ever loved hiaqua as much as this great hunter loved it. He had many strings of it around his neck. He was rich; but when he waited in the trees in the forest for the elk or the deer to come that he might shoot them, he was always counting the shells on these strings.