Long ago, in a big village on Shismarief Inlet, lived a chief who had
one child, a daughter.
The chief’s brother died and left a little boy, without any one to take
care of him, so the chief took the boy to live with him.
The boy and girl were cousins, and they had very happy times playing
together.
One day they had been out making snowballs, and stopped to shake the
snow off their parkas before coming into the house. The Eskimo parka is
a sort of middy blouse with a hood attached to it. In winter these
parkas are usually made of reindeer skin, with a big ruff of fur around
the edge of the hood to protect the face. The best fur to trim the hood
is that of the wolverine, for it does not collect moisture from the
breath.
The children stamped their feet and brushed the snow from each other
with small flat ivory sticks shaped for that purpose. In doing this the
boy broke the beautiful string of beads which the girl wore around her
neck.
Now these were very precious beads; and the boy was afraid of his uncle,
and did not like to tell what he had done, but he bravely took his
little cousin by the hand and went into the house trembling with fear.
Walking up to the chief he said, “Uncle, I am sorry but I broke the
precious beads.”
His uncle was furious. “How did you do it?” he asked, and the boy told
him.
“Now,” said the uncle, “I am going to kill you for that. Those beads
were my sign of chief. Now you have broken the beads, the people will
say I am no longer chief, and will make some one else chief instead of
me. You will have to die.”
He took the boy out of the house and led him to the kasga. There were
many people in the kasga, but he drove them all out; then he took off
the little boy’s clothes, and went away, leaving him all alone to die of
cold and hunger. That cruel uncle closed the door, putting heavy pieces
of wood against it, so that the little fellow could not push it open,
and then went up to the top of the kasga, where he took the skin cover
off from the round window hole, to let the cold air in. After that he
went away.
When left alone in the cold without any clothes on, the little fellow
started to run quickly around and around on the floor to keep warm.
Now in that village lived a man and wife who were very sad because they
had no children of their own. These two people loved the little ones
very dearly, and were good to all the children in the village; and the
children were very fond of them in return for all their kindness.
Long after the chief had gone away from the kasga, and the little boy
had run about until he was too tired to run any more, and could no
longer keep warm, that kind man who loved little children came on top of
the hut, put his head through the window hole, and called, “Hello,” and
the little boy answered, “Hello.”
The man said, “You are alive yet?” Then he put his head through the
window hole and handed a bundle of things to the boy.
“I have brought you some food and some water in a bag, a little oil and
a good warm sleeping-bag. Put the sleeping-bag under the floor, and get
into it and keep warm.”
When the kind man had gone away, the boy put the sleeping-bag through
the hole which is in the middle of the floor of every kasga, then, after
eating some of the food and drinking some of the water, he fell fast
asleep inside the nice, warm bag.
Early in the morning the boy crept out of the hole on to the floor, like
a little rat without any fur, and began to run around and around again,
to keep warm. It was still dark because the sun is lazy, way up there in
Alaska, and gets up very late. It was cold, too, icy cold.
With the first rays of daylight came the uncle’s footsteps on top of the
kasga; then the surprised and angry face peering down at the boy through
the window hole.
Now the chief had come up there expecting to find his nephew frozen
stiff, and was not at all pleased to see him skipping about all bare and
so lively. It made him more angry than ever, and he called down in a
big, fierce voice, “You are alive yet?” as though he could not believe
his own eyes.
The boy looked up without a word, and kept on running; then the uncle
called him all kinds of names, and said, “You try to keep alive as hard
as you can. This is the last day for you. I’ll fix you.” Then he went
away.
The boy crept back into his warm bag. When it was getting dark again, he
heard some one at the window hole calling, “Hello.”
The boy answered, “Hello.” Then the kind man said, “Listen, your uncle
is determined to kill you. He sent for the shaman and told him that he
must kill you tonight. I cannot save you this time, for the shaman is
more powerful than I. You must try your best to save yourself.” So
saying, the kind man went away.
It was night; dark, quiet and cold. The little boy stood shivering and
wondering what was going to happen to him. Suddenly he heard a sound, a
strange rustling sound. He was terrified, and thought of what the kind
man had told him about the shaman, who was very powerful, and knew all
kinds of magic.
The strange sound came nearer, and he could see by a light at the door
that a big snake was coming near to him. Now, while there is a kind of
water serpent in one part of the North, there are no real snakes in
Alaska, so the boy had never seen one, and did not know what it was.
The big snake hissed at him and said, “I will eat you up.”
The boy was terribly frightened, but he was a brave little fellow, so he
answered, “All right, I am ready.”
All the time he was looking desperately about for a weapon of some sort;
but the only thing he saw was the skin of the flipper of a seal. This he
pulled quickly onto his own right hand, which it fitted like a glove.
“Come on, Snake, and eat me up,” said he.
The big snake opened his mouth very wide, and quickly the boy thrust his
hand with the seal claws on it down the snake’s long throat, and pulled
out the snake’s stomach. Such an angry hissing as there was! Then the
snake glided away very fast.
Early in the morning, knowing that his uncle would come to see if the
shaman had killed him, the boy got out of his bag, and started to run
around on the floor to keep warm.
Soon the uncle climbed to the top of the kasga and peered down through
the window hole to see if the boy was there. When he saw his nephew
running about, he was more angry than ever, and called down in a loud
voice, “Try as hard as you can to live, I will kill you.” Then the boy
heard the footsteps going away over the snow, and crept back into the
sleeping-bag.
When it began to be dark, some one crept up to the window hole and said,
“Hello.” It was the kind man, and happy indeed was the poor little boy
to hear the voice of his friend.
The man was very much surprised to hear the boy’s answering “Hello,” and
very much pleased, and said, “Last night, the wicked shaman transformed
himself into a snake and went out. In the morning he came crawling back
without his stomach, and died. You killed that shaman, I am sure. Now
tonight your uncle sent for the very highest shaman of all, and told him
he must kill you himself. I am afraid he will succeed this time, with
his great magic. You must try your very best to save yourself any way.”
Leaving some food and water, the kind man went away, and the boy,
shivering with cold and fright, crept back into his bag.
Pretty soon he heard a great noise by the door, and there was a bigger
snake than before; a real monster this time. My! How scared that poor
little boy was!
He looked about for a weapon to fight the snake with, but there was
none.
Nearer and nearer came the horrible creature, with his mouth wide open.
Then the boy’s eyes fell upon the big stone lamp. It was very heavy, but
he took it in his hands and went right up to the snake.
“If you are going to eat me, Snake,” he said, “open your mouth as wide
as you can, and swallow me quick.” The snake hissed loudly, and opened
his mouth very wide, and the boy threw the lamp right down the monster’s
throat. When the snake had swallowed the lamp, he thought it was the boy
and went out. After that the boy got into the bag as before and slept
until morning.
As soon as it was daylight the chief came to see if the shaman had
obeyed his command. He looked down through the window and saw the boy
standing there looking up at him. He surely was surprised.
“How dare you be alive?” said he. “This is the last day for you anyway.
If the shaman can’t kill you, I will do it myself.”
Long after the uncle had gone, when it began to be dark, some one came
to the window hole and shouted, “Hello!” It was his friend, and how
happy it made the little boy to hear that kind voice!
“I am thankful that you are alive,” said the voice. “When the shaman
came back last night, he said he had something heavy inside of him, and
this morning he was dead. I am sure you killed the wicked shaman, but I
fear you will be dead tomorrow yourself. Your uncle has told every man
to try to kill you, but I brought you a little spear, and a bow, and a
crown; also a warm parka, and some oil. When you put on your clothes,
take some of this oil and grease yourself all over, then take some coals
from one of the lamps and blacken your face. When you have done this,
sit still until your uncle calls you; then go out.”
After saying this and giving him the things, the man went away, and the
boy was alone again; but this time he felt more hopeful, for did he not
have a spear and a bow? And had he not a nice warm parka to put on?
Then, too, he was going to get out, anything was better than staying
there alone in the dark and cold.
In the morning the boy got up and put on his clothes, which fit as
though made for him, and which felt so good and warm after having had no
clothes at all for such a long time. He tried the little bow, and that
was just the right size for him, too. When he had blackened his face,
and put on the little crown, he sat down to wait for the chief.
He did not have long to wait. Pretty soon he heard the _crunch, crunch_,
of footsteps coming over the snow; then the cruel voice of his uncle
calling him to come out.
Now the little fellow knew that he was going through that door to be
killed, but he took his spear and his bow, and went out as bravely as
any man.
When he got outside he saw his uncle standing by the door with a big
spear, and a crowd of people armed with spears and bows, all waiting to
kill one little boy.
As soon as they saw him they raised a great howl, and hurled their
spears at him and shot their arrows; but the weapons struck the oily
surface of his parka and glanced aside without harming him at all. Then
the boy hurled his spear at his uncle with all his might. It struck deep
into his flesh, and the wicked man went off, howling like a dog, and
never came back; for which every one was sincerely thankful.
After that the boy heard some one calling, and looking up he saw the
kind man and his wife standing on the roof of their igloo, and they were
shouting, “Let us make him chief! Let us make him chief!”
Then the people who wanted to kill him when the wicked uncle was there,
shouted, “He will be our chief now! He will be our chief!” So the boy
became chief, and went to live with the kind man and his wife, and took
them for his parents and was good to them, just as they had been good to
him when he was in trouble.
From that time on, the Eskimos have continued the custom of adopting
little orphan children into their homes, and taking care of them; being
very kind, and never like the wicked uncle at all.