_Strangers_
It is an unfortunate fact that we can gain nothing in this world
without having to make some return. Kak paid the price of his glory in
killing the ugrug when it came time to fill the family larder and the
lamp. He was now expected to lend a hand in all hunting expeditions.
Not that they needed more seals than Taptuna had always provided;
but with the boy along to guard a second hole the Eskimo could set a
double trap for his hidden victim, and sometimes save hours of watchful
waiting on the wind-swept ice.
Kak no longer felt enthusiastic about the hunt. He had done his
noblest--had landed on the tiptop of achievement at one bound, and
lesser triumphs rather bored him. Hauling in the little fellows seemed
tame. He maintained a lofty attitude toward hunting in general and
small seals in particular. But of course he went with Taptuna. Kak was
above all things an ambitious boy, eager to be a man; and a real man’s
first concern is to hold up his end in duty as well as pleasure. So
off they would trudge together, father and son, shoulder to shoulder,
with one of the dogs trotting in front; search out their holes and
squat on the ice, a little way apart yet companionable in the silence,
till one or other of them saw his bodkin pop up, and speared his seal.
Then they would get together to land it, and the day’s work was done.
This was in the morning of the year. You know in Kak’s country, not
only the days divide themselves into light and darkness, but the whole
year also. Spring and summer are light, autumn darkens, and Christmas
comes in a continual twilight. Kak liked the autumn and winter best.
To be sure, summer is cheerful. The sun never setting means daylight
goes on all the time, and daylight activities with it. Nobody keeps any
sort of regular hours. You sleep when you feel sleepy and eat whenever
food is set before you; and it is all rather fun. But it grows terribly
hot with the sun blazing over your head hour after hour for weeks.
Kak often felt very uncomfortable even in a single old fur shirt; and
if he took it off the pesky cloud of mosquitoes made life unbearable.
Traveling without sleds over the rough ground was exceedingly
difficult, too. So on the whole, he cared most for what we might call
the evening, when the sun hid itself below the horizon, and the days
were equal with the nights; when water froze and the snow fell gently,
and hunting grew more agreeable. Next, he liked the period of moon and
stars, or winter. Then the family settled into a comfortable snow house
somewhere on the shore ice. Having eaten their stores of dried meat and
oil during the fall, they were obliged to spear seals; but they did
very little other work, and spent most of their time sitting about the
lamp snug and warm, telling stories and singing songs.
One day in the morning of the year with the sun well up, Kak and his
father went seal hunting. There were other hunters distant on the
ice, for by now several families had joined Taptuna and Hitkoak. Luck
continued poor. They had been sitting on snow blocks ever so long, the
boy almost falling asleep from boredom, when he chanced to look in his
daddy’s direction, and was turned to stone by what he saw. Beyond those
hunched shoulders, not so very far away, three men with a laden sled
and many dogs were approaching rapidly.
Kak knew them for strangers at once. Their clothes were quite unlike
the clothes worn by his own people; nor were their dogs harnessed
each to a separate trace and spread fanlike, but one in front of the
other--an imposing string of more than six animals. He had never
dreamed anybody would drive more than three dogs on one sled. The
novel magnificence of it all took his breath.
Fear and expectation leaped in the boy’s heart. Every Eskimo believes
there are bad Eskimos belonging to other tribes who are out to do him
no good; if these were bad Eskimos there would be a fight--a glorious
row with the odds all against them! Kak’s blood pounded in his veins,
for he saw another chance of distinguishing himself. Then he began to
consider those odds: a man and a boy and Sapsuk against three grown men
and ever so many dogs, and these strangers looked big husky fellows.
His knees knocked queerly. It would be worse than an ugrug or even a
bear--men are wickeder than beasts and cleverer--and if they took his
father by surprise.... No, no! That would never do. Kak understood
he must warn Taptuna; but he did not want to let the enemy know he
intended doing so lest they make a dash and get in first.
Plucking his bodkin from the hole the boy commenced to work around
cautiously in his father’s direction; as he drew nearer, where he
could see the other’s face, he suddenly knew that Taptuna was already
watching the three men out on the ice; though he sat perfectly still
and pretended to be minding his own business. You see, Kak’s father
thought much more gravely of those odds against them and wanted to
avoid any chance of a quarrel; so he lay low--played ’possum till the
party should arrive. If they came peacefully, well and good; if they
showed fight--he was prepared. He darted a glance at Kak revealing this
plan, commanding him to be silent; and the lad froze where he stood.
The strangers came on rapidly, stopped at a distance, looked long at
Taptuna, and bunched together for consultation; arguing, pointing at
the hunters, gesticulating excitedly. After a while one of the three
walked forward alone.
The Eskimo stayed hunched over his fishing just like a rock on the
ice. Kak could see he was watching out of the corners of his eyes,
and holding himself ready. The boy smiled, for he knew his father a
desperate, clever fighter, equal to any man single-handed.
On came the foreigner in his foreign clothes, walking confidently,
swaggering boldly, offering no peace sign nor suggestion of any such
thing. He acted as if he owned the earth. But when he was yet five
paces away Taptuna sprang lightly to his feet, and seizing his long
knife, flung himself into defensive position, while Sapsuk burst out
with loud barks:
“Wow--woof--wow!”
[Illustration: TAPTUNA FLUNG HIMSELF INTO DEFENSIVE POSITION.]
The other dogs answered in half a dozen keys: “Yi--wow--yip--yap!”
The stranger stopped suddenly. All his cocksureness oozed away. His
eyes stood out of his head and his breath came fast. Seeing the hunter
brandishing his knife and ready to spring made the traveler shake all
over. He looked more and more scared; he wanted to run back to his
friends, and began to talk very fast and very loudly. For this fellow
was an Eskimo also and quite as afraid of bad Eskimos as Kak’s own
people. Both men were terribly frightened. Taptuna started making
noises with his mouth; he thought this stranger might be a kind of
ghost or spirit that would bring trouble upon him unless he shooed the
trouble away by such noises. And the stranger thought Taptuna meant to
kill him, and hurried to explain, shouting his harmless intentions. So
they both kept on jabbering, and frightening each other more and more,
making talking sounds which neither one understood. Kak hugged himself,
thrilled to the backbone, and scolded Sapsuk; and Sapsuk barked and
barked; and the big fat seal that was knocking its nose on Taptuna’s
bodkin took alarm at the terrific row, and scooted back into the deep
ocean and so got clean away. But nobody had noticed his sign of life,
or knew he was there, and so nobody minded.
By and by, through all the racket and commotion, it dawned on Taptuna
that the visitor was not a spirit but a real, live man who was talking
to him in real, human speech having understandable words sprinkled
through it. So he listened hard and presently made out the three
strangers were sight-seers who had come from a far land and meant no
harm to any one; and if they had omitted the peace sign it was only
because, not having been that way before, they were ignorant of the
customs. Then the traveler lifted his coat to show he had no knife, and
Kak watched his father feel him all over to make sure of it.
When Taptuna showed he was satisfied the boy laughed aloud and dashed
forward, wild excitement dancing in his eyes, and a hundred questions
tumbling off his tongue.
“Where are you going? Where have you come from? What are you called?
Oh, do, do tell us!”
He thought this miles better than a fight. Now they could all talk. He
wanted to know about their far-away home. He wanted to hear it in a
single word. But Taptuna threw cold water over such enthusiasm. Eskimos
do not consider it polite to harry a stranger with questions. Kak’s
father cried:
“Tut! Be off to your mother and say we have guests coming for dinner.”
At that Kak, rather ashamed of his bad manners, went racing away to
carry his message. He was not afraid to leave Taptuna, for already the
hunters of the village, whose attention had been attracted by all the
noise, were running in from every side. Kak, romping on with Sapsuk,
madly yelled the news to those he met and they hurried up, knowing this
a great occasion. The stranger was escorted toward the group of houses
on the ice, the other men being allowed to follow with their dogs and
sleigh, but not to come any nearer, because Taptuna would not take the
responsibility of receiving these travelers without first consulting
his neighbors. As each seal hunter, carrying his sharp knife and spear,
joined the party, the stranger looked more and more scared. He could
understand much of their speech though, and began to feel better when
he heard himself and his friends spoken of as honest fellows who might
be welcomed without fear of treachery.
Think what a tremendous event it was for these lonely folk in their
few small houses, in the midst of that vast, deserted snow field,
to receive a visit from a distinguished foreigner; for that is what
the leader of the party turned out to be. Two of the travelers were
Eskimos from far west on the north shore of Canada; and the other was
a white man who had come all the way from New York to learn what sort
of people lived on the tiptop of the world, and who had studied their
language so he could talk with them and really be friends.
Kak had never seen a white man, but he had heard of them from other
tribes of Eskimos--Kablunat they were called. He did not think this
visitor deserved the name, for he was really not white at all, but
very much his own complexion, with blue eyes instead of gray, and the
same brownish hair. The lad was intensely disappointed. He had always
imagined a race of people glistening and shining like frosty snow;
and the grown-up folk felt very much the same. Hitkoak made him stand
beside this so-called “white man” to show how alike they were; and
Guninana laughed at her squat boy, for in his fur clothes Kak looked
about as broad as he was long.
“You have the eyes and hair, son; but you will have to grow like a
young caribou before you can cut any figure in his country.”
Ah, if she had known what a spur to Kak’s ambition those words were
to prove! “Cut a figure in his country!” He would never have thought
of such a thing himself; but from the moment his mother’s idle humor
planted the seed, that idea lay hidden in the bottom, inmost part, of
the boy’s soul. He would attach himself to this Kabluna, would make
himself useful, run messages, travel with him, hunt for him; and
perhaps, when they went away over the edge of the earth again, he might
be permitted to go along. Of course this scheme did not prance right
into his mind whole, it grew and developed during the stranger’s stay.
For a while everybody was busy admiring their guests and getting
acquainted.
The Kabluna wore fine fur clothes and carried under his arm a peculiar,
long implement made partly of wood and partly of metal. Kak was simply
dying to ask about this, to handle and examine it, only he would
not let himself go, because his father had already reproved him for
questioning.
“Is it a spear?” he thought, peeping behind the stranger. “No--it can’t
be. There is no least sign of a knife.”
He ached to understand the odd thing, but had to wait, for now
Hitkoak’s wife and the girls came running to be presented to the
visitors, and the whole community stood about, all talking at once,
with a deafening hubbub and babble and noise of barking dogs. Noashak,
who I have told you was a rude, spoiled, forward little girl, threw
herself on the strangers one after another; jumping up to touch their
faces, getting under their feet, clinging to their hands, and mauling
their clothes. They only laughed good-naturedly, which pleased
Guninana and sent her hurrying off to put her largest cooking pot over
the lamp.
Hitkoak had invited one of the two Eskimos to stop in his house, the
other went elsewhere, while Taptuna entertained the white man. This
arrangement gave Kak much secret satisfaction, he was so thrilled by
desire to handle that long-nosed weapon.
“When the Kabluna enters to eat he will put it on one side in the
tunnel, and that will be my chance,” the boy reasoned. But there was
no chance, for the stranger carefully placed his gun in a special
case strapped to one side of the sled, and covered it up closely; and
nobody, except perhaps naughty Noashak, would have dared to think of
opening that case.
Kak’s heart sank into his boots. It took his sister’s diverting cries
of: “A feast! A feast! Blood soup!” to cheer him up.
“Blood soup--wow!”
Maybe that does not sound good to you, but Eskimos love it, and
Guninana could make the delicacy just right. Lips smacked, eyes
brightened, Taptuna and Kak hurried their guest inside; and almost
before he was clear of the tunnel Noashak hurled herself on him. Now
the Kabluna had come to live with them she claimed him for her own;
scrambled on to his knee, felt his bushy hair, tried to tickle him,
and pried out of his fingers a little box he had taken from among his
things on the sled when he put the gun away; such a curious little box,
full of many little straight pieces of wood, with red ends stuck on to
them like tiny bits of rock. Noashak was delighted. She opened the box
upside down and all the pieces fell out over the rug.
“Now, now! Leave our visitor in peace!” her father cried; and Guninana,
squatting in front of her lamp, scolded mildly.
But Noashak only laughed. She knew she might safely be as naughty as
she liked, for her parents never punished her. That is probably why she
was so very awful and a plague to everybody.
In our country when a boy is really mischievous and bad his father
or mother or schoolmaster or somebody gets after him and gives him a
first-class, good whipping to drive the badness out. Unfortunately
Eskimos believe if they whip their children, or punish them at all,
they will drive not badness but goodness away from them--a sort of
guardian angel who brings the children luck and blessings. Of course
if either boy or girl is naughty enough to need to be whipped, it
is quite fair for the angel to pick up and go off; but the parents
naturally do not want this to happen, so they try to bluff the spirit
by not punishing at all. No matter how bad Noashak was, she never got a
whipping--but oh, how the neighbors hated her at times!
Even the Kabluna thought her a bother when he saw all his matches
spilled on the rug. He began to gather them together carefully, for
there are no shops in Victoria Island where one can buy such things,
and it is very awkward to run out of matches when traveling in an
ice-cold country. Two articles the white man valued more than anything
else--the ammunition for his gun and his matches. However, since he was
a stranger, far away from home, and her father’s guest, and had come
so many miles to see these people, and wanted above all things to be
friends with them, he did not say one cross word nor even frown; but
took up a single little piece of wood, struck its rock end, and held
the fire out to Noashak. Now when the child saw this magic and felt
the hot flame she leaped away, hiding behind Taptuna, and would not
come near the visitor again; though the others crowded around full of
wonder. They had never seen a sulphur match.
The Kabluna lighted another and another, explaining their convenience,
and finally allowed Kak to strike one and hold it blazing in his own
fingers. Thus encouraged, the boy blurted out his eager question:
“That queer weapon you carried under your arm--what is it for?”
The white man smiled. “You mean my rifle?”
Kak never having heard the foreign word, rifle, looked puzzled. “The
thing with a long nose,” he explained. “The one you packed away on the
sled.”
“Yes,” the Kabluna answered, while his kind blue eyes held Kak’s. “We
call it a rifle--it is for hunting. To-morrow I will show you how it
kills animals from a great distance.”
The boy beamed. He liked this stranger; and the stranger liked him. He
had spotted Kak as a bright youngster during the first half hour, and
was willing to take some trouble and tell him stories of the far-away
country, wording them simply so they could be understood. Our everyday
life and surroundings are so strange to the Eskimos they could not
possibly conceive them from just hearing the names spoken. If you had
never seen a wheel you would find it difficult to think of a great,
puffing, railroad engine. These people had never seen wheels nor any
means of going about but the dog-drawn sleds, skin boats called kayaks,
and their own legs; so the white man did not talk about street cars or
telephones or automobiles, but described our homes built up and up, one
room on top of another, till they were six rooms high, and twice six
rooms high, occasionally even six times six rooms high. These Eskimos
cannot count above six, so this was his only way of conveying an idea
about the height of our tall buildings.
Kak worked it out next morning with snow blocks.
“Six times six rooms high!” he marveled, gazing at the pile.
It seemed unbelievable. Why should anybody want to build up into the
air that way with all the open ground to spread on? He looked over his
flat, white world, stretching bare and vast north, east, south, and
west, and muttered: “Unbelievable!”
Kak had heard many stories of their shamans, or medicine-men, going
to sleep and visiting the moon in their sleep, and seeing things
quite as extraordinary as houses six times six rooms high. None of
these, however, had fired him with a desire to follow. Now he tried
to imagine climbing up the outside of such a house to the very top,
pinching himself all the way to be sure he was awake. The notion made
him chuckle, but not loud enough to interrupt. He intended to be very
polite and hear more and more. So he sat quiet listening with his mouth
a little open and his eyes wide and round; and at the end of each tale,
while the others cried their amazement, he nodded, saying in his heart:
“Some day I will travel to the Kabluna’s country and see these marvels
for myself.”
They sat late over breakfast next morning listening to more queer talk,
till at last their neighbor roused them calling in the tunnel:
“I am Hitkoak. I am coming in.”
This is the polite way for an Eskimo to announce his visit.
The other two strangers were already outside feeding the dogs and
waiting for their chief’s word as to what they were to do that day.
They called the Kabluna, Omialik, which really means Commander; but
Eastern Eskimos have no conception of one man being master over another
or employing him for wages. Such conditions do not exist among them. So
hearing this title they took it for his name, and all addressed him by
it.
Hitkoak had discovered from his guest how anxious the explorer was to
meet with natives, and so he had formed the brilliant idea of escorting
the party to the nearest village which, he said, ought now to lie
about a day’s journey away on the shore of Victoria Island. Eskimos
are never quite sure where their towns are to be found, for even the
places have a way of packing up and moving off. When comfortable houses
can be built in a couple of hours, and each householder can carry all
his belongings on one sled, it is easiest, if the fishing or hunting
proves bad, just to move the whole village over to another site.
Generally so many sleighs moving make a very deep track which will not
be covered even by storms and blizzards for about three months, so that
if at first you do not find the place you want to reach, you follow on
and follow on until you overtake it.
Omialik was immensely pleased with the idea of visiting a local town;
and instantly everybody wanted to go. Kak wanted to go. He itched to
go; but he did not clamor about it half so loudly as the girls. Hitkoak
put his foot down, saying it would never do for them all to flock over;
for so many women and children and dogs landing in to be fed might
embarrass their kinsmen; so after a hubbub of talk it was decided that
Taptuna, whose brother lived in the neighboring village, and who had
been there recently, should act as guide. Guninana was much better able
to take care of herself than the other women, and she had more food
laid by also.
Kak listened with his whole soul to the ins and outs of this argument;
and when it was finished he literally threw himself on his father.
“Let me go! Let me go, too! I must go--I can hunt, I can walk, I can
build houses. Oh, dad, do, do let me go with you!”
“And who will take care of your mother?”
“Noashak!” the boy cried fiercely, saying the first thing that rushed
into his head.
That was a fine joke. They all laughed heartily. Now sometimes it is a
good sign to have one’s request laughed at, for it puts grown-ups into
a jolly humor; and again it is very bad, and means the thing is not
even to be considered seriously. Kak hardly knew what to make of his
parents’ amusement. He looked doubtfully from one to the other, and at
last turned beseeching eyes on the Kabluna.
“If the boy can be spared, let him come,” said Omialik, and made Kak
his friend for life.
Taptuna’s glance questioned his wife.
“Yes, yes, certainly, let our brave hero go! Noashak will take care of
me very well.” Guninana’s sides shook with uncontrolled mirth. “I want
to hear all that happens up yonder anyway, and the lad’s stories will
be better than yours, Taptuna.”
So it was agreed. Kak could not stay indoors with the excitement of his
great adventure surging in his veins; he had to go out and tear up and
down, and yell, and let off steam generally.
Besides the glory and honor of arriving at the village in such
distinguished company, he would see his cousin, Akpek, who was his
own age and his best chum, and to whom he had long wanted to boast
about killing that ugrug. Kak knew Taptuna could not resist telling
of his son’s house-building and hunting to Uncle Kitirkolak; and he
anticipated the relations would all make a big fuss over him when they
heard the news. Akpek would have to pay him a lot of respect.
They were not to start until next morning for the strangers, both
men and dogs, needed a good rest; and Kak thought he would never be
able to put in the time; however, this turned out to be one of the
most thrilling days of his life. Omialik did not forget his promise
about the rifle. He took the weapon from its case and allowed Kak to
examine it closely; hold it in his own hands; place it at his shoulder
and look, as directed, down the long nose. The boy could not at all
understand how it worked so their guest showed him. There being no wild
animals about he set up a stick, walked far away, raised the gun, and
sent a bullet through the wood from where he stood. The Eskimos were
not greatly impressed for they thought it magic. Their own shamans told
them constantly of strong spells which would kill animals unseen, and
carry people to the moon, and so forth. What really excited everybody
was the tremendous bang the gun made when it went off. Hitkoak’s wife
and the girls were so frightened they ran into their own house and
would not come out; and Noashak howled at the top of her lungs and kept
on howling till poor Guninana, who was pretty well scared herself,
begged the kind Kabluna not to do it again.
He did do it again though, just once more, to satisfy Kak. And when Kak
learned it was not magic, and saw the small piece of metal which flew
out of the rifle straight to its mark, he was crazy to try it himself.
“Oh, let me, let me, let me!” he teased, dancing up and down in a
frenzy of desire. “I only want to whang it off once--I’m sure I can hit
the stick.”
The white man shook his head. “No you can’t, not at the first trial--no
one ever does. The fact is,” he explained, “I can only shoot this gun
off a certain number of times until I get back to my own country,
because I have only a certain number of bullets. We may need them all
to kill animals for food, so I dare not waste any more.”
“Can they bang? Can they make holes in the stick?” Kak asked, pointing
to the strange Eskimos.
“Yes, sometimes. The little fellow shoots pretty well.”
“If he learned, I can learn!”
This was not boast; the lad only felt very sure of himself and
intensely in earnest; so his friend answered seriously:
“That is true. You can learn. But if you want to learn to shoot you
must come to Herschel Island where there are shops to buy bullets--and
it is a long, long way.”
“I don’t care! I’ll go! I’d like first rate to see places and shops and
bullets. May I go along with you?”
Our lad had yet to understand the words he used; but he was throbbing
with wild ambition; his gray eyes sparkled, and his perfect teeth
gleamed in a double row. He looked a volcano of enthusiasm.
The white man laughed. “Wait, youngster! Wait! You go too fast for me.
To-morrow we will try out what kind of traveler you are.”
That set the boy’s heart glowing with pride and hope. Well Kak knew he
could prove himself a man on the trail. Had he not been to the village
before; to fresh fishing grounds and new hunting grounds; indeed, half
over Victoria Island? For his father was a restless soul, always moving
from place to place and dragging Guninana and the children after him.
“Huh, all right! It’s a bargain,” was the satisfied answer.
Kak had a chance to prove his endurance next day for they struck from
deserted site to deserted site, going many miles around out of their
road in order to cling to the remnant of a faint track which would
surely lead where the people now were. They camped after dark and rose
early to find themselves in view of the town--a cluster of houses
looking from a distance like so many snow cakes you might have turned
out of a patty pan. Then Taptuna bade the strangers wait while he and
Kak raced ahead to announce them and tell the people they were friends.
Otherwise, if the dogs stirred and the Eskimos grew alarmed, they might
dash out and try to kill the whole party.
Kak ran faster than his dad and reaching Kitirkolak’s home first
vanished out of sight. He did not have to go into an underground
tunnel, for this house was built with a doorway and a long shed leading
to it.
“I am Kak,” he cried. “I am coming in,” and immediately popped his head
through the hole in the wall.
His aunt rolled out of bed with three small children on top of her,
gasping:
“Kak, you scamp! Bless the boy! How did he get here?”
“I came on my two feet with father and three strangers, one of them is
a Kabluna----” He was panting from running and tried to tell everything
in a breath, and had to stop and puff.
“Kabluna,” chorused the children without an idea of what it meant.
Akpek was already scrambling into his trousers. Kak’s uncle raised
himself on one elbow and blinked sleepy eyes. “Is your father here?” he
asked.
“Yes, and two strange Eskimos from far away, and Omialik from farther
away. They are all over yonder; and they have two more than six dogs
and much gear on their sled, and a long-nosed gun to kill animals, and
little wooden sticks which carry fire. He let me try them myself----”
“Where is he?” yelled Akpek. “I want to try them!”
“No, you can’t. He hasn’t any more to waste. If you want to learn to
shoot you must go to Herschel Island, and it’s far, far away--but I am
going sometime----”
Aunt and uncle were hurrying into their clothes. Between boots and
coats they stopped to hear the boy’s fantastic talk, little of which
they understood. Akpek had but a single thought.
“Where is he?” he demanded, all ready to go.
“Come on and I’ll show him to you. They are waiting to be introduced.
But you needn’t be afraid--it’s all right! I know them. They are
friends of mine.”
Kak swaggered out of the shed, followed by his cousin; and so it was
that Akpek came first of all his village to welcome the Kabluna.
The rest of the company were not far behind. Taptuna had been dashing
from house to house telling his news; and soon all the men and boys
came rushing out, talking excitedly and asking questions; some of them
were even putting their clothes on as they came, which seems very odd
if you stop to think how cold it was! When they felt sure the strangers
were not bad Eskimos and did not intend to play them any tricks, they
all formed in a line and walked out to welcome them, holding their arms
above their heads and saying:
“We are friendly. We carry no knives. Your coming has made us glad.”
Omialik’s party copied this, and when the two lines met they began a
formal sort of introduction, each man telling his name to the others;
but Kak and Akpek, who had joined the village, grew tired of the
business and broke away, and that upset everything; so the people all
began to talk together.
“Now what shall we do to celebrate?” asked Kitirkolak, who was a
leading man and anxious to give their visitors the kind of welcome
which they would best like.
The Kabluna said Eskimos farther west danced when they felt glad; so
it was quickly decided to have a grand general dance. Immediately all
the men and boys ran off for their snow knives and began building a
magnificent house, large enough to hold about fifty people standing,
allowing space in the middle for the dancers. Then the girls ran for
their drums, and commenced to sing; and they all felt so glad and happy
they wanted to dance before the house was finished, though it only took
a couple of hours to build it. Think of being able to build a perfectly
beautiful dancing palace in a few hours! That is what can be done with
cold snow blocks.
Kak had never before in his life enjoyed such a glorious time. The
excitement went on and on; it seemed as if it would never stop. The
villagers had also built a snow house for their guests to live in, and
when everybody was tired to death dancing, they went away to their
own homes; but Kak and his father stayed with Kitirkolak. The two
boys curled up in bed together and whispered and whispered to each
other long after the rest of the family were fast asleep. Kak had to
tell about killing the ugrug. He simply could not keep it in a minute
longer; and when Akpek chuckled from sheer disbelief, his cousin
exclaimed angrily:
“Just you ask my father and see if it isn’t true!”
“Oh, all right!” Akpek agreed, for he hated quarrels. “I’ll believe
it. I dare say you did spear the old ugrug; but anyway I’ve been in a
bear hunt where our best dog was killed; and if you’d been there you
would have run like the wind. Gee! It was some slaughter.”
That shut Kak up for a minute. He was more afraid of bears than of
anything else in the world; but of course he did not want to admit that
any wild animal could scare him enough to make him run away.
“When I get a gun,” he bragged, “I’d like to see any bear attack me.
Why, I’d just walk right up and stick the long nose into the bear’s
mouth and shoot it off, whang!--and where would your bear be then?”
“Well, maybe you’ll have a chance, for there are lots of bears about,”
grunted Akpek as he turned over to go to sleep.
Kak lay very still, but wide awake. This talk of bears upset him.
Suppose a bear were to come stalking about the house now, waking up the
dogs; and they all had to run out, not even waiting to put on their
clothes, and fight him off hand to hand. Oooch! The boy shivered. He
really was horribly afraid of bears, and he wished he could be a shaman
and have a powerful magic that would kill wild animals before they
appeared; instead of having to stand still till the beast came close,
or else creep nearer and nearer without letting the bear see you, and
so get a good crack at him--which the Kabluna said was the right way to
hunt with a gun.