[Illustration: Along came a huge brown bear. --Page 32]
SITKA
THE SNOW BABY
By Allen Chaffee
Author of “Unexplored”, “Lost River”
The “Twinkly Eyes Books” “Fuzzy Wuzz” Etc.
Illustrated by
PETER DA RU
MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY
Springfield, Massachusetts
Copyright, 1923
By MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY
Springfield, Massachusetts
All Rights Reserved
Bradley Quality Books
Printed in United States of America
_To_
PETER DARU
_who knows and loves the Alaskan wilderness_
FOREWORD
Here, in story form, is the natural history of Alaska, our last great
American wilderness.
In the adventures of the wee white polar bear, who drifts down the
coast on a floating berg, the young reader has a chance to see Southern
Alaska, with its two months of lush summer verdure, as well as the long
frozen winter under the Northern lights, and the later summers far out
in Bering Strait.
With the enterprising bear cub, he can watch Eskimos and reindeer,
seals and walruses, migratory sea birds and the salmon who swim the
inland waterways to spawn. He will witness the birth of an ice-berg and
adventure amid the storms and glaciers of the polar night.
There is also the story of a seal baby, who became the pet of the
fisherman’s little boy.
CONTENTS
SITKA, THE SNOW BABY
Chapter Page
I. THE LITTLE WHITE BEAR 1
II. UNGA, THE ESKIMO BOY 8
III. ADRIFT ON AN ICE-BERG 15
IV. THE WALRUS HERD 22
V. SUMMER IN ALASKA 29
VI. BLUEBERRIES AND MOSQUITOES 34
VII. AN ADVENTURE 41
VIII. WOLVES AND SALMON 47
IX. THE BIRTH OF AN ICE-BERG 56
X. MONSTERS OF THE SEA 62
XI. TOOTH AND FANG 68
XII. “LET THERE BE PEACE” 81
FINNY-FOOT, THE SEAL
I. THE WATER PUPPY 88
II. PIETRO’S PET 95
III. THE TRAINED SEALS 101
IV. FLAPPER THE FUR SEAL 108
GLOSSARY OF ALASKAN WORDS 116
CHAPTER I
THE LITTLE WHITE BEAR
Sitka, the Snow Baby, opened his eyes on a world all blue-white
ice-bergs and green-blue ocean under a sky that sparkled in the spring
sunshine.
He was as fat as butter and as fuzzy as a kitten, was Sitka, the little
white bear. He looked for all the world like a big puppy, with his long
white fur that was to keep him warm in this land of ice and snow. For
his home was Alaska, that great Western frontier of the United States
that reaches to the North Pole.
Why was Sitka white, instead of black like his cousin Twinkly Eyes, of
the deep, black-shadowed pine woods? One reason for his having white
fur in that land of white was so that his enemies could not see him
so plainly. For there were fierce white wolves that would have eaten
him, had they found him, he was so little and soft and helpless. Of
course his mother could protect him,--if there weren’t too many wolves,
she was so big and fierce. Mother White Bear, like all the polar bear
tribe, was at least twice as big as Mother Black Bear.
Sitka had been born five weeks before in the cave in the ice-berg where
his mother had slept the winter away. At first he had been naked and
blind and helpless. Now his fur had grown and his eyes had opened, and
he was ready to take a look at the world.
My, how cold it was, even in spring, here in Alaska! His mother kept
walking back and forth, back and forth, on the ice, because the minute
she stopped her feet would have frozen fast, even though their soles
were covered with fur. Sitka watched her for a few minutes, then he,
too, began pacing back and forth, back and forth, without stopping.
His mother had a longer neck than most bears, because it helped her to
keep her nose above water when she swam. She was a great swimmer, for
she lived on fish most of the time, and in her search for salmon and
mackerel and shell-fish she often went far from shore, swimming from
one ice-floe to the next through the open sea. The polar bear is often
called the sea bear.
Now this is what had become of Sitka’s father.--When the long, dark
polar winter had set in and Sitka’s mother had curled herself up in
the ice cave to hibernate, her mate had gone roaming over land and sea
in search of good things to eat. He never slept the winter away as she
did, and the cold gave him a ravenous appetite. Something must have
happened to him during his wanderings, for he never came back. Perhaps
an Eskimo killed him, to make his warm white fur into a rug for his
igloo, as they call the little round snow houses these little brown
people live in. Or perhaps he wanted a bear skin to make himself a
parka, the hooded shirt they wear.
Sitka’s mother had selected for her winter sleep a den on the ice-berg.
This was when the sea froze over. When the spring sunshine began
shining through the glassy walls of her retreat, and Sitka was strong
enough to follow her, she burst her way through the icy door of
her cave and led him forth, while she looked this way and that for
something she could eat. The berg had broken away from the harbor ice,
and floated this way and that through the open sea, as the wind blew it
along. There wasn’t a thing she could eat on that ice cake, and she was
starved after her winter’s fast.
Most of the year she had to live on fish and clams, and the eggs of sea
birds, because only in mid-summer were there berries and grasses. She
loved salmon perhaps best of all. Once she found a good fishing ground,
she could catch the great silver fish with her claws. But not one fish
could she see in the water that broke in little waves against their
floating island.
Small sea-gulls were flying low above their heads. They were Arctic
tern, and it made her mouth water to look at them. Leaping after one
that flew low overhead, she made a grab at it with her paw, but failed
to catch it. Wee Sitka also made a grab at them, but his fat legs
slipped from under him, and over and over he rolled like a furry ball.
The birds had been wintering in the South, and they had flown thousands
of miles on their long wings to get back to Alaska. By and by, when
the short Arctic summer came, it would be the most wonderful place in
the world to raise their families and find the things they liked to
eat. They had webbed feet, so that they could swim when their wings got
tired, and their long bills were hooked at the tips to help them catch
their slippery prey.
Just now the circling birds wheeled at the call of their leader and
went flapping Eastward toward the Alaskan shore. “That means they’ve
seen something good,--perhaps a school of mackerel,” Sitka’s mother
rumbled deep down in her throat. No wonder the Eskimos watch the tern
for a sign of good luck, for the bright eyes of a flock of gulls are
sure to see where the best fishing ground lies.
Mother White Bear plunged into the icy water, bidding the snow baby
follow her. Sitka dipped one fat paw into the icy tide, and squealed
that he was afraid. “Come on,” she urged him. “Just catch hold of my
tail and I’ll tow you along.” (For you know the polar bear has a wee
stub of a tail.)
“No-o-o-o!” he squealed, afraid. But wise Mother White Bear sank almost
out of sight in the blue-green water. “Wa-i-t!” he wailed.
Of a sudden she lifted her head high on its long neck, and sniffed the
current of the wind. Sitka also sniffed, to find out what it was she
smelled. Just then his feet slipped from under him, and off into the
icy water slid the fat white cub. “Oosh! Huff--huff--huff!” he gasped,
the plunge fairly taking his breath away. He felt sure that he was
going under. Without once realizing that he was learning to swim, he
struck out with all fours, just as if he were running, till he could
make a grab for his mother’s tail. Then he clung to it with his teeth,
while she swam strongly to the next great, floating ice cake. There she
scrambled over the edge, and Sitka with her, and stood shaking her wet
fur and sniffing the wind.
“I smell birds’ nests,” she explained. “But I get a message about
something else, too. It must be an enemy;” for the fur was rising along
the back of her neck, the way it does when danger threatens.