George Bird Grinnell,
The Punishment of the Stingy, and Other Indian Stories
“ Fine, sharp, stinging frost-flakes hissed in through the doorway and from under the edges of the lodge skins. Colder and colder it grew; and, trembling, quivering, his lips blue, his teeth chattering, Thunder Maker staggered to a bed and fell upon it. “You have beaten me; your power is greater than mine,” he cried. “Oh, Cold Maker, have pity!” For Plover Call’s new husband was Cold Maker, he who brings the fierce storms, the biting wind, and drifting, whirling snow from out the north. And now, as he saw his enemy gasping, shaking, and begging for mercy, as he lay on the bed, he laughed. ”
