THE BERRY DANCE
TEDDY'S month upon the island stretched out into two. His father came
and went, finding the boy so happy and well that he left him with an
easy mind. Ted's fair skin was tanned to a warm brown, and, clad in
Indian clothes, save for his aureole of copper-coloured hair, so strong
a contrast to the straight black locks of his Indian brothers, he could
hardly be told from one of the island lads who roamed all day by wood
and shore. They called him "Yakso pil chicamin,"[12] and all the village
liked him.
Tanana's marriage-feast was held, and she and Tah-ge-ah went to
housekeeping in a little hut, where the one room was as clean and neat
as could be, and not a bit like the dirty rooms of some of the natives.
Tanana spent all her spare time weaving beautiful baskets, for her slim
fingers were very skilful. Some of the baskets which she made out of the
inner bark of the willow-tree were woven so closely that they would hold
water, and Teddy never tired of watching her weave the gay colours in
and out, nor of seeing the wonderful patterns grow. Tah-ge-ah would take
them to the mainland when she had enough made, and sell them to the
travellers from the States. Meantime Tah-ge-ah himself was very, very
busy carving the totem-pole for his new home, for Tanana was a
chieftain's daughter, and he, too, was of high caste, and their totem
must be carved and stand one hundred feet high beside their door, lest
they be reproached.
Ted also enjoyed seeing old Kala-kash carve, for he was the finest
carver among the Indians, and it was wonderful to see him cut strange
figures out of bone, wood, horn, fish-bones, and anything his gnarled
old fingers could get hold of, and he would carve grasshoppers, bears,
minnows, whales, sea-gulls, babies, or idols. He made, too, a canoe for
Ted, a real Alaskan dugout, shaping the shell from a log and making it
soft by steam, filling the hole with water and throwing in red-hot
stones. The wood was then left to season, and Ted could hardly wait
patiently until sun and wind and rain had made his precious craft
seaworthy. Then it was painted with paint made by rubbing a certain rock
over the surface of a coarse stone and the powder mixed with oil or
water.
At last it was done, a shapely thing, more beautiful in Ted's eyes than
any launch or yacht he had ever seen at home. His canoe had a carved
stern and a sharp prow which came out of the water, and which had carved
upon it a fine eagle. Kala-kash had not asked Ted what his totem was,
but supposing that the American eagle on the buttons of the boy's coat
was his emblem, had carved the rampant bird upon the canoe as the boy's
totem. Ted learned to paddle and to fish, never so well as Kalitan, of
course, for he was born to it, but still he did very well, and enjoyed
it hugely.
Happily waned the summer days, and then came the time of the berry
dance, which Kalitan had spoken of so often that Ted was very anxious to
see it.
The salmon-berry was fully ripe, a large and luscious berry, found in
two colours, yellow and dark red. Besides these there were other small
berries, maruskins, like the New England dewberries, huckleberries, and
whortleberries.
"We have five kinds of berries on our island," said Kalitan. "All good.
The birds, flying from the mainland, first brought the seeds, and our
berries grow larger than almost any place in Alaska."
"They're certainly good," said Ted, his mouth full as he spoke. "These
salmon-berries are a kind of a half-way between our blackberries and
strawberries. I never saw anything prettier than the way the red and
yellow berries grow so thick on the same bush--"
"There come the canoes!" interrupted Kalitan, and the two boys ran down
to the water's edge, eager to be the first to greet the visitors. Tyee
Klake was giving a feast to the people of the neighbouring islands, and
a dozen canoes glided over the water from different directions. The
canoes were all gaily decorated, and they came swiftly onward to the
weird chant of the paddlers, which the breeze wafted to the listeners'
ears in a monotonous melody.
Every one in the village had been astir since daybreak, preparing for
the great event. Parallel lines had been strung from the chief's house
to the shore, and from these were hung gay blankets, pieces of bright
calico, and festoons of leaves and flowers. As the canoes landed their
occupants, the dancers thronged to welcome their guests. The great drum
sounded its loud note, and the dancers, arrayed in wonderful blankets
woven in all manner of fanciful designs and trimmed with long woollen
fringes, swayed back and forth, up and down, to and fro, in a very
graceful manner, keeping time to the music.
In the centre of the largest canoe stood the Tyee of a neighbouring
island, a tall Indian, dressed in a superb blanket with fringe a foot
long, fringed leggins and moccasins of walrus hide, and the chief's hat
to show his rank. It was a peculiar head-dress half a foot high, trimmed
in down and feathers.
The Tyee, in perfect time to the music, swayed back and forth, never
ceasing for a moment, shaking his head so that the down was wafted in a
snowy cloud all over him.
As the canoes reached the shallows, the shore Indians dashed into the
water to draw them up to land, and the company was joyously received.
Teddy was delighted, for in one of the canoes was his father, whom he
had not seen for several weeks. After the greetings were over, the
dancers arranged themselves in opposite lines, men on one side, women on
the other, and swayed their bodies while the drum kept up its unceasing
tum-tum-tum.
"It's a little bit like square dances at home," said Ted. "It's ever so
pretty, isn't it? First they sway to the right, then to the left, over
and over and over; then they bend their bodies forward and backward
without bending their knees, then sway again, and bend to one side and
then the other, singing all the time. Isn't it odd, father?"
"It certainly is, but it's very graceful," said Mr. Strong. "Some of the
girls are quite pretty, gentle-looking creatures, but the older women
are ugly."
"The very old women look like the mummies in the museum at home," said
Ted. "There's one old woman, over a hundred years old, whose skin is
like a piece of parchment, and she wears the hideous lip-button which
most of the Thlinkits have stopped using. Kalitan says all the women
used to wear them. The girls used to make a cut in their chins between
the lip and the chin, and put in a piece of wood, changing it every few
days for a piece a little larger until the opening was stretched like a
second mouth. When they grew up, a wooden button like the bowl of a
spoon was set in the hole and constantly enlarged. The largest I have
seen was three inches long. Isn't it a curious idea, father?"
"It certainly is, but there is no telling what women will admire. A
Chinese lady binds her feet, and an American her waist; a Maori woman
slits her nose, and an English belle pierces her ears. It's on the same
principle that your Thlinkit friends slit their chins for the
lip-button."
"I'm mighty glad they don't do it now, for Tanana's as pretty as a pink,
and it would be a shame to spoil her face that way," said Ted. "The
dancing has stopped, father; let's see what they'll do next. There comes
Kalitan."
A feast of berries was to follow the dance, and Kalitan led Mr. Strong
and Ted to the chief's house, which was gaily decorated with blankets
and bits of bright cloth. A table covered with a cloth was laid around
three sides of the room, and on this was spread hardtack and huge bowls
of berries of different colours. These were beaten up with sugar into a
foamy mixture, pink, purple, and yellow, according to the colour of the
berries, which tasted good and looked pretty.
Ted and Kalitan had helped gather the berries, and their appetites were
quite of the best. Mr. Strong smiled to see how the once fussy little
gentleman helped himself with a right good-will to the Indian dainties
of his friends.
Many pieces of goods had been provided for the potlatch, and these were
given away, given and received with dignified politeness. There was
laughing and merriment with the feast, and when it was all over, the
canoes floated away as they had come, into the sunset, which gilded all
the sea to rosy, golden beauty.
Ted's share of the potlatch was a beautiful blanket of Tanana's weaving,
and he was delighted beyond measure.
"You're a lucky boy, Ted," said his father. "People pay as high as
sixty-five dollars for an Alaskan blanket, and not always a perfect one
at that. Many of the Indians are using dyed yarns to weave them, but
yours is the genuine article, made from white goat's wool, long and
soft, and dyed only in the native reds and blacks. We shall have to do
something nice for Tanana when you leave."
"I'd like to give her something, and Kalitan, too." Ted's face looked
very grave. "When do I have to go, father?"
"Right away, I'm afraid," was the reply. "I've let you stay as long as
possible, and now we must start for our northern trip, if you are to see
anything at all of mines and Esquimos before we start home. The
mail-steamer passes Nuchek day after to-morrow, and we must go over
there in time to take it."
"Yes, sir," said Ted, forlornly. He wanted to see the mines and all the
wonderful things of the far north, but he hated to leave his Indian
friends.
"What's the trouble, Ted?" His father laid his hand on his shoulder,
disliking to see the bright face so clouded.
"I was only thinking of Kalitan," said Ted.
"Suppose we take Kalitan with us," said Mr. Strong.
"Oh, daddy, could we really?" Ted jumped in excitement.
"I'll ask the Tyee if he will lend him to us for a month," said Mr.
Strong, and in a few minutes it was decided, and Ted, with one great
bear's hug to thank his father, rushed off to find his friend and tell
him the glorious news.
FOOTNOTE:
[12] Copper hair.