And when the mighty task was finished the white figure of the Ice King stood before the Indian brave.
“You have ruined my lodge,” said the giant.
“The winter season is past,” answered the brave. “Begone!”
“After several moons I shall return to stay,” threatened the Ice King. Then he stalked away toward the North.
The people were very happy when they knew that the young brave had conquered the giant; but their joy was somewhat dampened when they heard about the threatened return of the Ice King.
“I shall prepare for his return and do battle with him again,” declared the Indian conqueror.
This promise comforted the people somewhat, but still they thought of the coming winter with dread.
During the autumn the hunter built near the river a strong wigwam and stored therein abundant fuel and dried game. He filled many bags made of skin, with oil, which he procured from the animals he killed. Also, he was well supplied with fur rugs, blankets, and warm clothes.
At last the winter season came. The cold north wind blew unceasingly, the snow piled high around the wigwams; ice several feet thick covered the river.
“The Ice King has come,” said the Indians. “If he keeps his threat to stay among us we shall surely perish.”