THE ICE KING
(Indian Legend)
Once upon a time there was an Indian village built on the bank of a wide river. During the spring, summer, and autumn the people were very happy. There was plenty of fuel and game in the deep woods; the river afforded excellent fish. But the Indians dreaded the months when the Ice King reigned.
One winter the weather was terribly cold and the people suffered severely. The Ice King called forth the keen wind from the northern sky, and piled the snowdrifts so high in the forests that it was most difficult to supply the wigwams with game. He covered the river with ice so thick that the Indians feared it would never melt.
“When will the Ice King leave us?” they asked each other. “We shall all perish if he continues his cruel reign.”
At last signs of spring encouraged the stricken people. The great snowdrifts in the forests disappeared and the ice on the river broke into large pieces. All of these floated downstream except one huge cake which lodged on the bank very near the village. And when the Indians saw that the spring sunshine did not melt this great mass of ice they were puzzled and anxious.
“It is the roof of the Ice King’s lodge,” they said. “We shall never enjoy warm weather while he dwells near us. Have we no brave who is willing to do battle with this winter tyrant?”
At last, a courageous young hunter armed himself with a huge club and went forth to see if he could shatter the glittering frozen mass and rid the village of the giant who dwelt beneath it. With all his strength he struck the ice roof blow upon blow, crying out, “Begone, O cruel Ice King! Your time is past! Begone!”
Finally, there was a deafening noise like the crashing of forest trees when the lightning strikes, and the huge ice cake split into several pieces.
“Begone!” cried the young brave, as he struggled with each great lump of ice until he pushed it from the bank and tumbled it into the river below.