Long ago, in a village on the Arctic coast of Alaska, there lived a man
and his wife, with their only son.
The boy was clever and brave, and a good hunter. Every spring he went
out with his harpoon and killed a whale, but he did not worship the
whales as his father did. The father thought the whales had great power,
and he used to pray to them.
One winter while the young man was out hunting, the ice broke and
drifted away from land, leaving him on the ice floe with a great expanse
of shining sea between himself and the shore. There was no way for him
to reach land, and, to make matters worse, a storm arose, and the wind
blew and howled, and the waves grew so big that they looked like
mountains. Pretty soon the ice was all broken up, so that he found
himself on a very small, high iceberg. He had scarcely room to turn
around, and all night long he clung there, cramped up and cold.
When daylight came again, and he saw that he was all alone on a little
piece of ice, floating on a big black ocean, without even a glimpse of
land to cheer him, he fell into deep despair. Very miserably he waited
there, looking out over the sea until night began to fall once more;
then he could bear it no longer. Taking his hunting knife from its
sheath, he made ready to kill himself. As he raised the knife, a hand
from above seized his hand, and a great voice spoke in his heart,
saying, “You must not do that. It is wrong.” On hearing this, he dropped
the knife in the water, and suddenly he felt himself being drawn up
swiftly through the air. When he recovered his breath and looked about
him, he was in heaven. It was very light, and he was not cold or sad any
more.
While he stood there enjoying the balmy air and warm sunshine, a kind
man came along, and took him to his home, where he was as well fed and
treated as by a loving father.
Now his own father and mother were in great distress, and scarcely knew
how to live without him. The neighbors were sorry for them, and every
one in the village spoke kindly of the young man, whom they looked upon
as lost forever.
At the far end of the village, in a tiny hut, there lived an old woman
with her little granddaughter.
One day the little girl said, “Grandma, I wish I might bring back that
young man.”
“Indeed, my dear, I wish so too,” answered the old woman; “but how could
one little girl do what all the wise people in the village have not been
able to accomplish?”
But the little girl kept on thinking about it and wishing she could
bring the young man back to his unhappy parents; until at last she could
think of nothing else, and could neither eat nor sleep for thinking of
it.
One night, while her grandmother slept, the little girl lay looking at
the old stone lamp, dreaming of the sadness that had come over her
village because the boy, whom they all loved, was lost. She fancied the
flickering light, from its wick of moss, winked at her, as much as to
say, “I know something you would like to know.” So she began to talk to
it in a low voice, that she might not awaken her grandmother. “Lamp,
dear Lamp, can’t you go and find that boy? Your eyes are so bright, and
you look so wise. Won’t you please go and find him?”
She sat up on her little heels, with her hands clasped, speaking
eagerly.
The old grandmother stirred uneasily among her bear skins on the floor.
The lamp twinkled and flickered, then, trembling a little, began to hop
with short quick hops at first, then higher and higher, until at last,
waving a bright goodby to her, the little lamp shot right out through
the hole that is in the roof of every Eskimo house, and went straight up
to heaven to get the young man, and bring him home.
“O Grandmother!” cried the little girl. “Our lamp has gone after him.”
The grandmother shivered, for without the lamp which supplied their heat
and light, she felt cold. Drawing the little girl down beside her, she
snuggled under the big fur rugs and went to sleep.
When the lamp reached heaven it went straight to the house where the
young man was. It hopped so quickly through the ventilator, into the
house, that some of the oil spilled out on the floor. The man who lived
there tried to grab it, but each time he thought he had caught it, the
lamp slipped from his fingers, and hopped away through the air,
beckoning to the young man to come. Quickly jumping into the bowl of the
lamp, the boy sat there and was carried straight down to the little
girl.
When the little girl opened her eyes in the morning, she was
disappointed to see the old lamp twinkling away in its accustomed place,
looking very innocent indeed. The child thought it must have been a
dream. Then a shadow came between her and the lamp, and she saw the boy
standing, smiling down at her and the grandmother, and she knew that her
dream had come true.
When they had recovered from their astonishment, and the boy had asked
all about his parents and his friends, they talked a long while together
and arranged a fine plan to give his father and mother a surprise.
The grandmother was to go to his house at once and ask his parents to
give her some clothes, for those he had on were shabby and soiled, but
she was to make believe that she wanted them for herself.
When the old woman reached the boy’s home, the parents welcomed her very
kindly and asked what they could do for her.
“Let me have some of your son’s clothes,” said she. “My little
granddaughter and I are very poor, and the weather is cold.”
“Alas!” sighed the man. “Our son is lost to us, and I fear he will not
want his clothes any more. He would be happy to know that they were of
use to you.”
They gave her the very best parka and mukluks the boy had, also some
food. She thanked them heartily, and went home as fast as she could, for
the sight of their sad faces made her feel that no time must be lost in
making them happy again.
By the time the boy was dressed, and they had all had some food, it was
evening. Then the two children ran hand in hand to the kasga, where the
people were gathering to sing songs and play games.
The little girl went in first, and asked if she too might sing. They
gave her a drum, and she sang a wonderful song, all about a dream she
had had, which really was the story of how the lamp had found the boy
and brought him home.
The sad parents were there, and the mother began to cry for her son, and
the father said, “I wish that dream would come true!”
Just as he said this, the boy gave a shout and rushed into the room. You
can imagine how surprised they all were, and how happy too.
Then the little girl slipped quietly out and went home with a shining
face.
“Grandmother,” said she, “I can sleep well tonight, for I know everybody
is glad again.”
The next day the boy came to the grandmother, and asked her and her
granddaughter to come to live at his home with his father and mother.
They went with him, and after that they were always happy and
comfortable, for the boy became a famous hunter, and kept them all
supplied with good things to eat, and plenty of fur skins to keep them
warm.
The little girl grew big, and the old grandmother bossed them all.
Grandmothers always do in Eskimo Land.