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A TREASURY OF
ESKIMO TALES
BY
CLARA K. BAYLISS
_Author of "A Treasury of Indian Tales,"
"Old Man Coyote," etc._
ILLUSTRATED IN COLOR BY
GEORGE CARLSON
NEW YORK
THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1922,
By THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY
Second Printing
Printed in the U. S. A.
[Illustration: HE SUMMONED HIS MASCOT WHICH WAS A HUGE WHITE BEAR]
PREFACE
The Central Eskimo live away up north in that great American
archipelago which lies between Hudson Bay, Baffin Bay, and the Arctic
Ocean; an archipelago in which the islands are so large, so numerous,
and so irregular in outline that, as one looks at a map of them, he
could fancy they were "chunks" of the continent which had been broken
to pieces by some huge iceberg that bumped into it.
The land is ice-bound during so much of the year that the inhabitants
cannot depend upon getting a living by the cultivation of the soil,
and have to subsist almost entirely upon meat which they get from
reindeer, seal, bear, whale, and walrus.
In summer their clothing is of sealskin and fishskin; and in winter it
is of the thicker reindeer hides. Their life is a hard one owing to
the rigorous climate, and they make it harder by their superstitions,
for diseases are supposed to be cured by charms and incantations of
the shaman or priest; and everything in the way of hunting, fishing,
cooking, or of clothing themselves must be done in a prescribed way or
it is "taboo" or "hoodoo" as the negroes say. When you read "The Baby
Eskimo" you will see just a tiny bit of the hardships, but I should
not like to tell you how much more terrible a time he might have had,
if he had happened to be a girl baby.
By referring to the Table of Contents you will note that the first
group of tales were told by the Central Eskimo. The second group were
derived from the Eskimo living along Bering Strait, to the west; and
it is interesting to compare many of these folk tales along similar
subjects.
The writer is indebted to the Sixth Ethnological Report, issued by the
U. S. Government, for many of the legends found in the Central Eskimo
group; and to the Eighteenth Report for many of those from Bering
Strait. She wishes to express her thanks for this invaluable and
unique material.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
_CENTRAL ESKIMO TALES_
I. THE BABY ESKIMO 1
II. KIVIUNG 3
III. THE GIANT 12
IV. KALOPALING 14
V. THE WOMAN MAGICIAN 18
VI. THE BIRD WIFE 23
VII. THE SPIRIT OF THE SINGING HOUSE 28
VIII. THE TORNIT 30
IX. THE FLIGHT TO THE MOON 33
X. WHAT THE MAN IN THE MOON DID 37
XI. THE GUEST 41
XII. THE ORIGIN OF THE NARWHAL 43
_BERING STRAIT TALES_
XIII. WHAT THE ESKIMO BELIEVES 49
XIV. THE FIRST MAN 52
XV. THE FIRST WOMAN 57
XVI. OTHER MEN 61
XVII. MAN'S FIRST GRIEF 65
XVIII. UP TO THE TOP OF THE SKY, AND DOWN
TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA 69
XIX. TAKING AWAY THE SUN 76
XX. THE DWARF PEOPLE 82
XXI. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LONE WOMAN
OF ST. MICHAEL 85
XXII. WHY THE MOON WAXES AND WANES 87
XXIII. CHUNKS OF DAYLIGHT 90
XXIV. THE RED BEAR 95
XXV. THE LAST OF THE THUNDERBIRDS 99
XXVI. RAVEN MAKES AN OCEAN VOYAGE 103
XXVII. THE RED SKELETON 108
XXVIII. THE MARMOT AND THE RAVEN 111
XXIX. ORIGIN OF THE WINDS 114
XXX. RAVEN AND THE GEESE 120
XXXI. EVEN A GRASS PLANT CAN BECOME
SOMEONE IF IT TRIES 127
ILLUSTRATIONS
He summoned his mascot which was a huge
white bear (7) _Frontispiece_
PAGE
He lifted the boulder as if it had been a pebble 39
He whipped on his magic coat and became a raven 93
A gale swept in bringing reindeer, trees and bushes 117
I
THE BABY ESKIMO
The little Eskimo away up in the northern part of British America has
a pretty hard time of it, as you may know when you think how cold it
is there.
He is born in a snow hut, and when he is but a few hours old he is
carried on his mother's back out upon the ice, and around and around
in circles and after a while through deep snow back to the hut. If
that does not kill him, the names he gets are enough to do it; for he
is given the names of all the people who have died in the village
since the last baby was born. He sometimes has a string of names long
enough to weigh any baby down. Worse than that, if one of his
relatives dies before he is four years old, that name is added to the
rest and is the one by which he is called.
Worse still, if he falls sick he is given a dog's name, so that the
goddess Sedna will look kindly upon him. Then, all his life, he must
wear a dog's harness over his inner jacket. If he should die, his
mother must rush out of the house with him at once. If she does not do
so, everything in the house must be thrown away or destroyed, just as
is done when a grown person dies in a furnished house.
For a whole year his mother must wear a cap if she steps outside her
door, and she must carry his boots about with her. After three days
she goes to his tomb and walks around it three times, going around to
the left, because that is the way the sun travels. While she walks,
she talks to the dead child and promises to bring him food. A year
after his death she must do this again, and she must do the same thing
whenever she happens to pass near the grave.
Now we shall tell you some of the tales which the Eskimo mothers
relate to their children. The first one is about Kiviung, the Rip Van
Winkle of the Eskimos.
II
KIVIUNG
An old woman lived with her grandson in a small hut. She had no
husband to take care of her and the boy, and they were very poor. The
lad's clothing was made of the skins of birds which they caught in
snares. Whenever the boy came out of the hut to play, the other boys
would call, "Here comes the bird boy! Fly away, birdie!" and the men
would laugh at him and tear his clothes.
Only one man whose name was Kiv-i-ung, was kind to the boy and tried
to protect him from the others, but they would not stop. The lad often
came to his grandmother crying, and she would console him and promise
him a new garment, as soon as they could get the skins.
She begged the men to stop teasing the child and tearing his clothes,
but they only laughed at her. At last she became angry and said to the
boy, "I will avenge you on your tormentors. I can do it by making use
of my power to conjure."
She poured water on the mud floor and said, "Step into this puddle,
and do not be frightened at anything that happens."
He stepped into it, and immediately the earth opened and he sank out
of sight, but the next moment he rose near the beach and swam about as
a young seal with a wonderfully smooth, shining skin.
Some one saw him and called out that there was a yearling seal close
to shore. The men all ran to their kayaks eager to secure the
beautiful creature. But the boy-seal swam lustily away as his
grandmother had told him to do, and the men continued to pursue him.
Whenever he rose to the surface to breathe, he took care to come up
behind the kayaks, where he would splash and dabble in order to lure
them on. As soon as he had attracted their attention and they had
turned to pursue him, he would dive and come up farther out in the
sea. The men were so interested in catching him that they did not
observe how they were being led far out into the ocean and out of
sight of the land.
It was now that the grandmother put forth her powers. Suddenly a
fierce gale arose; the sea foamed and roared and the waves upset their
frail vessels and plunged them under the surface. When they were
drowned, the little seal changed back into a boy and walked home over
the water without wetting his feet. There was no one left now to
torment him.
Kiv-i-ung, who had never abused the boy, had gone out with the rest,
but his kayak did not capsize. Bravely he strove against the wild
waves, and drifted far away from the place where the others had gone
down. There was a dense fog and he could not tell in which direction
to go.
He rowed for many days not knowing whither he was going, and then one
day he spied through the mists a dark mass which he took to be land.
As he pulled toward it the sea became more and more tempestuous, and
he saw that what he had supposed to be a rocky cliff on an island was
a wild, black sea with a raging whirlpool in the midst of it.
He had come so close that it was only by the utmost exertion he
escaped being drawn into the whirlpool and carried down. He put forth
all his strength and at last got away where the waves were less like
mountains. But he had to be constantly on the alert, for at one moment
his frail craft was carried high up on the crest of billows and the
next it was plunged into a deep trough of the sea.
Again he saw a dark mass looming up, and rowed toward it hoping to
find land, but again he was deceived, for it was another whirlpool
which made the sea rise in gigantic waves. At last the wind subsided,
and the sea became less rough, though the whitecaps still frothed
around him. The fog lifted, and at a great distance he saw land, real
land this time.
He went toward it, and after rowing along the coast for some distance
he spied a stone house with a light in it. You may be sure he was
delighted to come near a human habitation again. He landed and entered
the house. There was no one in it but one old woman. She received him
kindly and helped him to pull off his boots, and she hung his wet
stockings on the frame above the lamp. Then she said:
"I will make a fire in the next room and cook a good supper."
Kiviung thought she was a very good woman, and he was so hungry that
he could scarcely wait for the supper. It seemed to him that she was a
long time preparing it. When his stockings were dry he tried to take
them from the frame in order to put them on. But as soon as he touched
the frame it rose up out of his reach. He tried in vain several times,
and each time the frame rose up. He called the woman in and asked her
to give him his stockings.
"Take them yourself," she said. "There they are; there they are," and
went out again.
Kiviung was surprised at the change in her manner. He tried once more
to take hold of his stockings, but with no better result. Calling the
woman in again, he explained his difficulty and said:
"Please hand me my boots and stockings; they slip away from me."
"Sit down where I sat when you entered my house; then you can get
them," she replied, and left the room.
He tried once more, but the frame arose as before and he could not
reach it. He knew now that she was a wicked woman, and he suspected
that the big fire she had made was prepared so she could roast and eat
him.
What should he do? He had seen that she could work magic. He knew that
he could not escape unless he could surpass her in her own arts. He
summoned his mascot, which was a huge white bear. At once there was a
low growl from under the house. The woman did not hear it at first,
but Kiviung kept on conjuring the spirit and it rose right up through
the floor roaring loudly. Then the old witch rushed in trembling with
fear and gave Kiviung what he had asked for.
"Here are your boots," she cried; "here are your slippers; here are
your stockings. I will help you put them on."
But Kiviung would not stay any longer with the horrid creature, and
dared not wait to put on his stockings and boots. He rushed out of the
house and had barely gotten out of the door when it clapped violently
together, catching the tail of his jacket, which was torn off. Without
stopping to look behind, he ran to his kayak and paddled away.
The old woman quickly recovered from her fear and came out swinging a
glittering knife which she attempted to throw at him. He was so
frightened that he nearly upset his kayak, but he steadied it and
arose to his feet, lifting his spear.
"I shall kill you with my spear," he cried.
At that the old woman fell down in terror and broke her knife which
she had made by magic out of a thin slab of ice.
He traveled on for many days, always keeping near the shore. At last
he came to another hut, and again a lamp was burning inside. His
clothing was wet and he was hungry, so he landed and went into the
house. There he found something very strange: a woman living all alone
with her daughter! Yet the daughter was married and they kept the
son-in-law in the house. But he was a log of driftwood which they had
found on the beach. It had four branches like legs and arms. Every day
about the time of low water they carried it to the beach and when the
tide came in, it swam away. When night came it returned with eight
large seals, two being fastened to each bough.
Thus the log provided food for its wife, her mother, and Kiviung, and
they lived in abundance. Kiviung became rested and refreshed after his
weary travels, and he enjoyed this life so well that he remained for a
long time. One day, however, after they had launched the log as they
had always done, it floated away and never came back.
Then Kiviung went sealing every day for himself and the women, and he
was so successful that they wished him to remain with them always. But
he had not forgotten the home he had left long ago, and meant to
return to it. He was anxious to lay in a good stock of mittens to keep
his hands warm on the long journey, and each night he pretended to
have lost the pair he wore, and the women would make him another pair
from the skin of the seals he brought home. He hid them all in the
hood of his jacket.
Then one day, he, too, floated off with the tide and never came back.
He rowed on for many days and nights, always following the shore.
During the terrible storm he had been out of sight of land all he ever
cared to be.
At last he came again to a hut where a lamp was burning, and went to
it. But this time he thought it would be well to see who was inside
before entering. He therefore climbed up to the window and looked
through the peep-hole. On the bed sat a woman whose head and whose
hands looked like big yellow-and-black spiders. She was sewing; and
when she saw the dark shadow before the window she at first thought it
was a cloud, but when she looked up and beheld a man, she grasped a
big knife and arose, looking very angry. Kiviung waited to see no
more. He felt a sudden longing for home, and hastily went on his way.
Again he traveled for days and nights. At last he came to a land which
seemed familiar, and as he went farther he recognized his own country.
He was very glad to see some boats ahead of him, and when he stood up
and waved and shouted to them they came to meet him. They had been on
a whaling excursion and were towing a large dead whale to their
village.
In the bow of one of the boats stood a stout young man who had
harpooned the whale. He looked at Kiviung keenly and Kiviung looked at
him. Then, of a sudden, they recognized each other. It was Kiviung's
own son whom he had left a small boy, but who was now become a grown
man and a great hunter.
Kiviung's wife was delighted to see him whom she had supposed dead. At
first she seemed glad and then she seemed troubled. She had taken a
new husband, but after thinking it over she returned to Kiviung, and
they were very happy.
III
THE GIANT
In days of old an enormous man lived with other members of the Inuit
tribe in a village beside a large inlet. He was so tall that he could
straddle the inlet, and he used to stand that way every morning and
wait for the whales to pass beneath him. As soon as one came along he
used to scoop it up just as easily as other men scoop up a minnow. And
he ate the whole whale just as other men eat a small fish.
One day all the natives manned their boats to catch a whale that was
spouting off the shore; but he sat idly by his hut. When the men had
harpooned the whale and were having a hard time to hold it and keep
their boats from capsizing, he rose and strolled down to the shore and
scooped the whale and the boats from the water and placed them on the
beach.
Another time when he was tired of walking about, he lay down on a high
hill to take a nap.
"You would better be careful," said the people, "for a couple of huge
bears have been seen near the village."
"Oh, I don't care for them. If they come too near me, throw some
stones at me to waken me," he said with a yawn.
The bears came, and the people threw the stones and grabbed their
spears. The giant sat up.
"Where are they? I see no bears. Where are they?" he asked.
"There! There! Don't you see them?" cried the Inuit.
"What! those little things! They are not worth all this bustle. They
are nothing but small foxes." And he crushed one between his fingers,
and put the other into the eyelet of his boot to strangle it.
IV
KALOPALING
Ka-lo-pa-ling is a strange being who lives in the northern seas. His
body is like that of a man except that his feet are very large and
look like sealskin muffs. His clothing is made of the skins of eider
ducks and, as their bellies are white and their backs are black, his
clothes are spotted all over. He cannot speak, but cries all the time,
"Be, be! Be, be!"
His jacket has an enormous hood which is an object of fear to the
Inuit, for if a kayak upsets and the boatman is drowned, Ka-lo-pa-ling
grabs him and puts him into the hood.
The Inuit say that in olden times there were a great many of these
creatures, and they often sat in a row along the ice floes, like a
flock of penguins. Their numbers have become less and less, till now
there are but a few left.
Anyone standing on shore may see them swimming under water very
rapidly, and occasionally they rise to the surface as if to get air.
They make a great noise by splashing with their feet and arms as they
swim. In summer they like to come out and bask on the rocks, but in
winter they sit along the edge of the ice or else stay under water.
They often chase the hunters, so the most courageous of the men try to
kill them whenever they can get near enough. When the Kalopaling sits
sleeping, the hunter comes up very cautiously and throws a walrus
harpoon into him. Then he shuts his eyes tight until the Kalopaling is
dead, otherwise the hunter's boat would be capsized and he be drowned.
They dare not eat the flesh of the creatures, for it is poisonous; but
the dogs eat it.
One time an old woman and her grandson were living alone in a small
hut. They had no men to hunt for them and they were very poor. Once in
a while, but not often, some of the Inuit took pity on them and
brought them seal's meat, and blubber for their lamp.
One day the boy was so hungry that he cried aloud. His grandmother
told him to be quiet, but he cried the harder. She became vexed with
him and cried out, "Ho, Kalopaling, come and take this fretful boy
away!"
At once the door opened and Kalopaling came hobbling in on his clumsy
feet, which were made for swimming and not for walking. The woman put
the boy into the large hood, in which he was completely hidden. Then
the Kalopaling disappeared as suddenly as he had come.
By and by the Inuit caught more seals than usual and gave her plenty
of meat. Then she was sorry that she had given her grandson away, and
was more than ever sorry that it was to Kalopaling she had given him.
She thought how much of the time he must have to stay in the water
with that strange man-like animal. She wept about it, and begged the
Inuit to help her get him back.
Some of them said they had seen the boy sitting by a crack in the ice,
playing with a whip of seaweed, but none of them knew how to get him.
Finally one of the hunters and his wife said, "We may never succeed,
but we will see what we can do."
The water had frozen into thick ice, and the rise and fall of the tide
had broken long cracks not far from the shore. Every day the boy used
to rise out of the water and sit alongside the cracks, playing, and
watching the fish swim down below.
Kalopaling was afraid someone might carry the boy away, so he fastened
him to a string of seaweed, the other end of which he kept in his
hand. The hunter and his wife watched for the boy to come out, and
when they saw him they went toward him. But the boy did not want to go
back to live with his grandmother, and as they came near he called
out:
"Two men are coming; one with a double jacket, the other with a
foxskin jacket."
Then Kalopaling pulled on the string and the boy disappeared into the
water.
Some time after this the hunter and his wife saw the boy again. But
before they could lay hold of him the lad sang out:
"Two men are coming."
And again Kalopaling pulled the string and the boy slipped into the
water.
However, the hunter and his wife did not give up trying. They went
near the crack and hid behind the big blocks of ice which the tide had
piled up. The next time when the boy had just come out they sprang
forward and cut the rope before he had time to give the alarm. Then
away they went with him to their hut.
As the lad did not wish to return to his grandmother, he stayed with
the hunter, and as he grew to be a man he learned all that his new
father could teach him, and became the most famous hunter of the
tribe.
V
THE WOMAN MAGICIAN
Long ago, in Aggo, a country where nobody lives nowadays, there were
two large houses standing far apart. In each of these houses many
families lived together. In the summer the people in the two houses
went in company to hunt deer and had a good time together. When fall
came they returned to their separate houses. The names of the houses
were Quern and Exaluq.
One summer it happened that the men from Quern had killed many deer,
while those from Exaluq had caught but a few. The latter said to each
other, "They are not fair; they shoot before we have a chance;" and
they became very angry.
"Let us kill them," said one.
"Yes, let us kill them, but let us wait till the end of the season,
and then we can take all the game they have in their storehouse," said
the others. For the game was packed in snow and ice and was taken home
on dog sledges when the hunting was over.
When it came time to go home both parties agreed to go on a certain
day to the storehouses and pack up the game ready to start early in
the morning. This was the time for which the men of Exaluq had been
waiting.
They started off all together with their sledges, but when they got a
long distance from the camp and very near to the storehouse, those
from Exaluq suddenly fell upon the others and slew them, for the men
from Quern had never suspected that there was any ill-feeling.
Fearing that if the dogs went back to camp without their masters, the
women and children would guess what had happened, they killed the dogs
also. When they returned, they told the women that their husbands had
separated from them and had gone off over a hill, and they did not
know what had become of them.
Now one of the young men had married a girl from Quern, and he went to
her house that night as usual, and she received him kindly, for she
believed what she had heard about the men of her party straying off.
She and all the other women thought the men would soon find their way
back, as they had hunted in these parts so long that they knew the
land.
But in the house was the girl's little brother who had seen the
husband come in; and after everybody was asleep he heard the spirits
of the murdered men calling and he recognized their voices. They told
him what had happened, and asked the boy to kill the young man in
revenge for their deaths. So he crept from under the bed and thrust a
knife into the young man's breast.
Then he awakened all the women and children in the great row of huts
and told them that the spirits of the dead men had come to him and
told of their murder, and had ordered him to avenge them by killing
the young man.
"Oh, what shall we do? What shall we do?" they cried. "They have
killed our men and they will kill us!" They were terribly frightened.
"We must fly from here before the men from Exaluq awaken and learn
that the young man is slain in revenge," said one of the old women.
"But how can we fly? Our dogs are dead, and we cannot travel fast
enough to escape."
"I will attend to that," said the old woman. In her hut was a litter
of pups, and as she was a conjurer, she said to them, "Grow up at
once." She had no fairy wand to wave over them, but she waved a stick,
and after waving it once the dogs[1] were half-grown. She waved it
again, saying, "Be full-grown instantly;" and they were.
They harnessed the dogs at once, and in order to deceive their enemies
they left everything in the huts and even left their lights burning,
so that when the men arose in the morning they would think that they,
too, had arisen and were dressing.
When it had come full daylight next morning the men of Exaluq wondered
why the young man did not come back to them, and presently they went
to find out. They peeked into the spy-hole of the window and saw the
lamps burning, but no people inside the hut. They discovered the body
of the dead man, and then when they looked they saw the tracks of
sledges.
They wondered very much how the women could have gone away on sledges,
since they had no dogs, and they feared some other people had helped
them to get off. They hastily harnessed their own dogs and started in
pursuit of the fugitives.
The women whipped their dogs and journeyed rapidly, but the pursuers
had older and tougher animals and were likely to overtake them soon.
They became very much frightened, fearing that they would all be
killed in revenge for the death of the young man.
When the sledge of the men drew near and the women and children saw
that they could not escape, the boy who had slain the man said to the
old woman:
"The spirits of our murdered men are calling to us to cut the ice.
Cannot you cut it?"
"I think I can," she answered, and she slowly drew her first finger
across the path of the pursuers, muttering a magic charm as she did
so.
The ice gave a terrific crack, and the water came gushing through the
crevasse. They sped on, and presently she drew another line with her
finger, and another crack opened and the ice between the two cracks
broke up and the floe began to move.
The men, dashing ahead with all speed, could scarcely stop their dog
team in time to escape falling into the open water. The floe was so
wide and so long that it was impossible for them to cross, and thus
the women and children were saved by the art of their conjurer.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The actual statement both here and on page 39 is that the woman
and the Man in the Moon beat the pups and the boy with sticks to make
them grow. Is not our birthday beating, "one for each year and one to
grow on" a survival of this ancient superstition?
VI
THE BIRD WIFE
Itajung, one of the Inuit tribe, was vexed because a young woman would
not marry him, so he left his home and traveled far away into the land
of the birds. He came to a small lake in which many geese were
swimming. On the shore he saw a great many boots. He cautiously crept
near and stole a pair and hid them.
Presently the birds came out of the water, and finding a pair of boots
gone they were alarmed, and quickly forming into two long lines with
their leader at the point where the lines met, they flew away crying,
"_Honk! Honk! Honk!_"
But one of the flock remained behind crying, "I want my boots! I want
my boots!"
Itajung came forth from his hiding-place and said, "I will give you
your boots if you will become my wife."
"That I will not do," she replied.
"Very well," he said, and turned around to go away.
"I don't want to, but I will be your wife if you will bring back my
boots," she called.
He came back and gave her the boots, and when she put them on she was
changed into a woman.
They walked away together, and wandered down to the seaside and, as
she liked to live near the water, they settled in a large village by
the sea. Here they lived for several years and had a son. Itajung
became a highly respected man, for he was by far the best whaler in
all the Inuit tribe.
One day they killed a whale and were busy cutting it up and carrying
the meat and blubber to their homes. Many of the women were helping,
but though Itajung was working very hard, his wife stood lazily
looking on.
"Come and help us," he called to her.
"My food is not from the sea," she replied. "My food is from the land.
I will not eat the meat of a whale; neither will I help."
"You must eat it; it will fill your stomach," said he.
She began to cry, and said, "I will not eat it. I will not soil my
nice white clothing."
She went to the beach and searched for feathers. When she found some,
she put them between her fingers and the fingers of her child. They
were both turned into geese and flew away. When the Inuit saw this
they cried, "Itajung, your wife is flying away."
Itajung became very sad. He no longer cared for the meat and blubber,
nor for the whales spouting near the shore. He followed in the
direction his wife had taken, and went over all the land in search of
her.
After traveling for many weary months, he came to a river where a man
with a large axe was chopping chips from a piece of wood, and as fast
as he chopped them they were turned into salmon and slipped out of the
man's hands into the river and swam down to a large lake near by. The
name of the man was Small Salmon.
As Itajung looked at the man he was frightened almost to death; for
the back of the man was entirely hollow, and Itajung could see right
through him and out at the other side. He was so scared that he kept
very still and crept back and away out around him. He wanted to ask if
the man had seen his wife, for that was what he asked everyone he came
to. So he went around and came from the opposite direction, facing the
man.
When Small Salmon saw him approaching he stopped chopping and asked,
"Which way did you approach me?"
"I came from that direction," said Itajung, pointing in the way he had
last approached.
"That is lucky for you, for if you had come the other way and had seen
my back, I should have killed you at once with my hatchet."
"I am glad I don't have to die," said Itajung. "But haven't you seen
my wife? She left me and came this way."
"Yes, I saw her. Do you see that little island in the large lake? That
is where she lives now, and she has taken another husband."
"Oh, I can never reach her," said Itajung in despair. "I have no boat
and do not know how to reach the island."
"I will help you," said Small Salmon kindly. "Come down to the beach
with me. Here is the backbone of a salmon. Now shut your eyes. The
backbone will turn into a kayak and carry you safely to the island.
But mind you keep your eyes shut. If you open them the kayak will
upset."
"I will obey," said Itajung.
He closed his eyes, the backbone became a kayak, and away he sped over
the water. He heard no splashing and was anxious to know if he really
was moving, so he peeped open his eyes a trifle.
At once the boat began to swing violently, but he quickly shut his
eyes, and it went on steadily, and he soon landed on the island.
There he saw a hut and his son playing on the beach near it. The boy
on looking up saw and recognized him, and ran to his mother, crying:
"Mother, Father is here and is coming to our hut."
"Go back to your play," she said; "your father is far away and cannot
find us."
The lad went back, but again he ran in, saying:
"Mother, Father is here and is coming to our hut."
Again she sent him away; but he soon returned, saying: "Father is
right here."
He had scarcely said it when Itajung opened the door. When the new
husband saw him he said to his wife, "Open that box in the corner of
the hut."
She did so, and a great quantity of feathers flew out and stuck fast
to them. The hut disappeared. The woman, her new husband, and the
child were transformed into geese and flew away, leaving Itajung
standing alone.
VII
THE SPIRIT OF THE SINGING HOUSE
The singing house of an Eskimo village is used also for feasting and
dancing, and always has a spirit owner who is supposed to remain in it
all the time. Once a woman was curious about this spirit and wanted to
see it. For a long time she had wanted to know more about this spirit
of the singing house, but the villagers warned her that she would meet
with a terrible fate if she persisted in trying to see it.
One night she could wait no longer, and went into the house when it
was quite dark so the villagers would not see her go. When she had
entered she said:
"If you are in the house, come here."
As she could see and hear nothing, she cried, "No spirit is here; he
will not come."
"Here I am; there I am," said a hoarse whisper.
"Where are your feet?" she asked, for she could not see him.
"Here they are; there they are," said the voice.
"Where are your shins?" she asked.
"Here they are; there they are," it whispered.
As she could not see anything, she felt of him with her hands to make
sure he was there, and when she touched his knees she found that he
was a bandy-legged man with knees bent outward and forward. She kept
on asking, "Where are your hips? Where are your shoulders? Where is
your neck?" And each time the voice answered, "Here it is; there it
is."
At last she asked, "Where is your head?"
"Here it is; there it is," the spirit whispered, hoarsely.
But as the woman touched the head, all of a sudden she fell dead. _It
had no bones and no hair._
VIII
THE TORNIT
In olden times the Inuit were not the only tribe living in the Eskimo
country. Around Cumberland Sound there lived some very large, strong
people called the Tornit. They were on good terms with the Inuit and
shared the same hunting ground, but lived in separate villages. They
were much taller than the Inuit and had very long legs and arms, but
their eyes were not as good.
They were so strong that they could lift large boulders which were far
too heavy for the Inuit, though the latter were much stronger in those
days than they now are. Some of the stones which they used to throw
are lying about the country still, and the toughest of the men now
living cannot lift them, much less swing and throw them. Some of their
stone houses also remain. They generally lived in these houses all
winter, and did not cover them with snow to make them warmer.
The principal part of their winter dress was a long, wide coat of
deerskins, reaching to the knees and trimmed with leather straps. They
ate walrus, deer, and seal, and when they went sealing in the winter
they fastened the lower edge of their coat to the snow by means of
pegs. Under the coat they carried a small lamp, over which to melt
snow when they were thirsty, and over which to roast some of the seal
meat. They sat around a hole in the ice and watched for their prey,
and when a seal blew in the hole they whispered, "I shall stab it."
Sometimes in their eagerness they forgot the lamp and upset it as they
threw the harpoon, and thus got burned.
Their strength was so great that they could hold a harpooned walrus as
easily as the Inuit could hold a seal. These weaker men did not like
to play ball with them, for they did not realize how rough they were
and often hurt their playfellows severely. This the playfellows tried
to take in good part, and the two lived on friendly terms except for
one thing. For some reason the Tornit did not make kayaks for
themselves, although they saw how convenient they were for hunting
when the ice broke up in the spring. Every little while they would
steal a boat from the Inuit, who did not dare fight for their
property because the thieves were so much stronger.
This rankled in the hearts of the Inuit and they would talk among
themselves and threaten to take vengeance on the robbers. They debated
what they should do either to get rid of the Tornit or to make them
cease their depredations. This state of affairs had gone on till the
Inuit were at fever heat, when one day a young Tornit took the boat of
a young Inuit without asking, and in sealing with it, he ran it into
some blocks of floating ice which stove in the bottom. The owner
nursed his wrath until night, and then when the thief was asleep he
slipped into the tent and thrust his knife into the Tornit's neck.
The Tornit tribe had been aware of the growing dislike, and when at
last one of the Inuit took revenge, they feared that others might do
the same and in similar secret fashion; so they decided to leave the
country. In order to deceive their neighbors, they cut off the tails
of their long coats and tied their hair in bunches that stuck out
behind to look like a strange people as they fled.
Then they stole away, and the Inuit were so glad they were gone that
they made no effort to pursue them.
IX
THE FLIGHT TO THE MOON
A powerful conjurer, who had a bear for his mascot, thought he would
like to go to the Moon. He had his hands tied up and a rope fastened
around his knees and neck. Then he sat down at the rear of his hut
with his back to the lamps and had the light extinguished.
He called for his mascot, and the bear at once appeared and he mounted
its back. Up it carried him, above the village, above the mountains,
up and up till they reached the Moon. To his surprise, the Moon was a
_house_ which was covered with beautiful white deerskins. Now white
deer are strange and sacred and are hatched from long white eggs
buried deep in the soil. There is mystery and magic in white deer,
white buffalo, and in all albino animals. The Man in the Moon dried
these white deerskins and fastened them over his house, which, as I
said, is the Moon itself.
On each side of the door to the house was the upper part of an
enormous walrus. The beasts were alive, and they threatened to tear
the visitor in pieces. It was very dangerous to try to pass the fierce
animals, but the conjurer told his mascot to growl as loud as it
could, and that startled the walruses for an instant, and in that
instant the man slipped in.
It must be chilly in the Moon, for the house had a passageway to keep
out the cold, just as the Eskimo houses have. In this passageway was a
red-and-white spotted dog, the only dog which the Man in the Moon
keeps. The man went on past this dog and into the inner room. There at
the left he saw a door into another building in which sat a beautiful
woman with a lamp before her. As soon as she saw the stranger she blew
on her fire and made it flash up, and she hid behind the blaze; but he
had seen enough so that he knew she was the Sun.
The Man in the Moon rose from his seat on the ledge and came over to
shake hands with the visitor and welcome him. Behind the lamps there
was a great heap of venison and seal meat, but the Man in the Moon did
not offer his guest any of it, which is not the way the Eskimo and
Indians treat their guests. The Man in the Moon seemed to have a
different idea of hospitality, for he immediately said:
"My wife, Ulul, will soon be here and we will have a dance. Mind you
don't laugh, or she will slice you in two with her knife and feed you
to my ermine which is in yon little house outside."
Before long a woman entered carrying an oblong chopping-bowl in which
lay her chopping-knife. She set it down and stooped forward, turning
the bowl as if it were a whirligig. Then she commenced dancing; and
when she turned her back toward the stranger he saw that she was
hollow. She had no back, backbone, or insides, but only lungs and
heart.
Her husband presently joined in the dance, and their attitudes and
grimaces were so ludicrous that the stranger could scarcely keep from
laughing. He did not wish to be impolite, so he kept turning his face
aside and pretending to cough. Fortunately for him, just as he thought
he would surely explode with laughter, he recalled the warning the man
had given him and rushed out of the house. The Man guessed what was
the matter with him, and called out:
"Better call your white bear mascot!"
He did so, and escaped unhurt.
However, he went into the house another day and succeeded in keeping
his face straight, so when their performance was ended the Man in the
Moon was very friendly to him and showed him all around the house and
let him look into a small building near the entrance.
In this building there were large herds of deer which seemed to be
roaming over vast plains. The Man in the Moon said, "You may choose
one of these for your own," and as soon as he did so the animal fell
through a hole and alighted on the earth right by the conjurer's hut.
In another building there were many seals swimming in an ocean, and he
was allowed to choose one of these, which also fell down to his hut.
"Now you have seen all I can show you, and you may go home," said the
Moon Man. So the conjurer called his mascot and rode down through the
air to his hut.
There his body had lain motionless while his spirit was away, but now
it revived. The cords with which his hands and knees had been bound
dropped off, though they had been tied in hard knots. The conjurer
felt quite exhausted from his trip, but when the lamps were lighted he
told his eager neighbors all that he had seen during his flight to the
Moon.
X
WHAT THE MAN IN THE MOON DID
Long ago there was a poor little orphan boy who had no home and no one
to protect him. All the inhabitants of the village neglected and
abused him. He was not allowed to sleep in any of the huts, but one
family permitted him to lie outside in the cold passage among the dogs
who were his pillows and his quilt. They gave him no good meat, but
flung him bits of tough walrus hide such as they gave to the dogs, and
he was obliged to gnaw it as the dogs did, for he had no knife.
The only one who took pity on him was a young girl, and she gave him a
small piece of iron for a knife. "You must keep it hidden, or the men
will take it from you," she said.
He did not grow at all because he had so little food. He remained poor
little Quadjaq, and led a miserable life. He did not dare even to join
in the play of the boys, for they called him a "poor little shriveled
bag of bones," and were always imposing upon him on account of his
weakness.
When the people gathered in the singing house he used to lie in the
passage and peep over the threshold. Now and then a man would take him
by the nose and lift him into the house and make him carry out a jar
of water. It was so large and heavy that he had to take hold of it
with both hands and his teeth. Because he was so often lifted by his
nose, it grew very large, but he remained small and weak.
At last the Man in the Moon, who protects all the Eskimo orphans,
noticed how the men ill-treated Quadjaq, and came down to help him. He
harnessed his dappled dog to his sledge and drove down. When he was
near the hut he stopped the dog and called, "Quadjaq, come out."
The boy thought it was one of the men who wanted to plague him, and he
said, "I will not come out. Go away."
"Come out, Quadjaq," said the Man from the Moon, and his voice sounded
softer than the voices of the men. But still the boy hesitated, and
said, "You will cuff me."
"No, I will not hurt you. Come out," said the Moon Man.
[Illustration: HE LIFTED THE BOWLDER AS IF IT HAD BEEN A PEBBLE]
Then Quadjaq came slowly out, but when he saw who it was he was even
more frightened than if it had been one of the men standing there. The
Moon Man took him to a place where there were many large boulders and
made him lie across one as if he were to be paddled. Quadjaq was
scared but he did not dare disobey.
The Man from the Moon took a long, thin ray of moonlight and whipped
the boy softly with it.
"Do you feel stronger?" he asked.
"Yes, I feel a little stronger," said the lad.
"Then lift yon boulder," said the Man.
But Quadjaq was not able to lift it, so he was whipped again.
"Do you feel stronger now?" asked the Man.
"Yes, I feel stronger," said Quadjaq.
"Then lift the boulder."
But again he was not able to lift the stone more than a foot from the
ground, and he had to be whipped again. After the third time he was so
strong that he lifted the boulder as if it had been a pebble.
"That will do now," said the Man from the Moon. "Rays of light even
from the Moon give you strength. To-morrow morning I shall send three
bears. Then you may show what power you have."
The Man then got into his sledge and went back to his place in the
Moon.
Every time a moonbeam had hit Quadjaq he had felt himself growing. His
feet began first and became enormously large, and when the Man left
him, he found himself a good-sized man.
In the morning he waited for the bears, and three bears did really
come, growling and looking so fierce that the men of the village ran
into their huts and shut the doors. But Quadjaq put on his boots and
ran down to the ice where the bears were. The men peering out through
the window holes said, "Can that be Quadjaq? The bears will soon eat
the foolish fellow."
But he seized the first one by its hind legs and smashed its head on
an iceberg near which it was standing. The next one fared no better.
But the third one he took in his arms and carried it up to the village
and let it eat some of his persecutors.
"That is for abusing me!" he cried. "That is for ill-treating me!"
Those that he did not kill ran away never to return. Only a few who
had been kind to him when he was a poor skinny boy were spared. Among
them, of course, was the girl who had given him the knife, and she
became his wife.
XI
THE GUEST
An old hag lived in a house with her grandson. She was a very bad
woman who thought of nothing but playing mischief. She was a witch and
tried to harm everybody with witchcraft.
One time a stranger came to visit some friends who lived in a house
near the old woman. The visitor was a fine hunter and went out with
his host every morning and they brought home a great deal of game. It
made the old woman envious to see her neighbor have so much to eat,
while she had little, and she determined to kill the visitor.
She made a soup of wolf's and man's brains, which was the most
poisonous food she could think of. Then she sent her grandson to
invite the stranger to eat supper at her house.
"Tell him that I desire to be polite to the guest of my neighbor, but
be sure you do not tell him what I have cooked."
The boy went to the neighboring hut and said, "Stranger, my
grandmother invites you to come to her hut and have a good feast on a
supper that she has cooked. She told me not to say that it is a wolf's
and a man's brains, and I do not say it."
The man thought a moment, and then replied, "Tell your grandam that I
will come."
He went to the hut where the old woman pretended to be very glad to
see him. They sat down at the table and while she was placing a large
dish of soup before him, he put a bowl on the floor between his feet.
He excused himself for putting his hand before his mouth because his
front teeth were gone, and every time he poured the spoonful into the
bowl.
When he had finished he said, "It is the custom in my tribe to bring
your hostess a bit of some delicious food to show that you appreciate
her hospitality. Here is a bowl of rare food which I give to you, but
it will not be good unless you eat it at once."
He gave the soup to the old witch, and the moment she tasted the broth
she herself had prepared she fell down dead.
XII
THE ORIGIN OF THE NARWHAL
A long, long time ago a widow lived with her young son and daughter in
a small hut. They had a hard time to get enough to eat. But the boy
was anxious to do all he could, and while he was still quite small he
made a bow and arrows of walrus tusks which he found under the snow.
With these weapons he shot birds for their food.
He had no snow goggles and one day when the sun shone bright and he
was hunting, he became utterly blind. He had a hard time finding his
way back to the hut and when he got there without any game, his mother
was so disappointed that instead of pitying him for his blindness she
became angry with him.
From that time she ill-treated him, never giving him enough to eat. He
was a growing boy and needed a great deal of food, and she thought he
wanted more than his share, so she gave him less, and would not allow
her daughter to give him anything. So the boy lived on, half
starving, and was very unhappy.
One day a polar bear came to the hut and thrust his head right through
the window. They were all much frightened, and the mother gave the boy
his bow and arrows and told him to kill the animal.
"But I cannot see the window and I shall miss the bear. Then it will
be furious and will eat us," he said.
"Quick, brother! I will level the bow," said his sister.
So he shot and killed the bear, and the mother and sister went out and
skinned it and buried the meat in the snow.
"Don't you dare to tell your brother that he killed the bear," said
the mother. "We must make this meat last all winter."
When they went back into the hut she said to her son, "You missed the
bear. He ran away as soon as he saw you take your bow and arrow. We
have been following him a long way into the woods."
The sister did not dare to tell her brother. She and her mother lived
on the meat for a long time while the boy was nearly starving. But
sometimes when the mother was away, the girl gave him meat, for she
loved her brother dearly and used to weep because she knew he was
hungry.
One day a loon flew over the hut, and, seeing the poor blind boy at
the door, resolved to restore his eyesight. The bird perched on the
roof and kept calling, "_Quee moo! Quee moo!_" which sounded to the
lad like "Come here! Come here!"
He went out and followed the bird to the water. There the loon took
the boy on its back and dived with him to the bottom. The loon is a
great diver and can stay for a long time under water, but it knew the
boy could not. So it came to the surface soon and asked, "Can you see
anything?"
"No, I cannot see anything as yet," answered the boy.