PLAY-DAYS.
MONTH after month passed by with baby Etu. The little round ball grew
into a sturdy boy, who delighted in rough plays outdoors, as well as
many indoor games, when the storms raged too greatly for him to leave
the house.
His mother never refused him anything possible to get. He was never
scolded or punished, so it is no wonder he grew up kind and honest and
truthful. And laugh? Why, you can't imagine how many things there are
for Eskimo children to laugh about. In that cold and dreary land one
would expect to see long faces, and hear people constantly groaning
and complaining; but, instead of that, these people of the far north
may be said to be ever "on the grin," as travellers there have often
expressed it.
And Etu was like the rest of his people. He was always finding some
new source of fun and pleasure. When he was still a tiny baby, left to
amuse himself on the platform inside the house, he would watch for the
dogs to appear in the passageway, and throw his ivory toys at them.
Then he would laugh and shake his sides as they dodged the play-things
and scampered away.
Sometimes one of the older children would bring him a ball of snow or
ice and teach him to kick it into the air again and again, without
touching it with his hands, yet keeping it in motion all the time.
When he grew older and braver he allowed himself to be tossed up in the
air in a blanket of walrus hide. He must keep on his feet all the time,
and not tumble about in the blanket. After awhile he could go almost
to the roof and back again, holding himself as straight as a little
soldier.
[Illustration: "HE WHO HITS THE GREATEST NUMBER WINS THE GAME"]
Of course he slid down-hill and had any amount of sport, but the
sled was generally the seat of his own deerskin trousers. He and his
playmates liked to start from the top of an icy hill, and vie with each
other in reaching the foot.
Sometimes the little fellows would double themselves up so they looked
like balls of fur, then down the hill they would roll, over and over,
one after another. And when they reached the bottom and jumped upon
their feet, what a shouting there would be as they shook themselves and
brushed off the snow!
Now that Etu is a big boy, he plays still another game on the snowy
hillsides. His father has killed a great number of reindeer, and the
boy is allowed to have all the antlers he wishes. When the boys want to
play the reindeer game, as we may call it, they set up the antlers
in the snow, a short distance apart from each other. Then they climb
the hill again, and, seating themselves on their sleds, slide down past
the antlers. They must steer clear of them and reach the foot without
running into a single one. At least, that is the game, and the ones who
do so successfully are the winners.
But what kind of a sled do you think Etu uses? It is simply a cake of
ice; if you stop to think a moment, you can imagine how swiftly and
smoothly it travels along.
There is a still different game of reindeer-hunting which requires more
skill.
This time Etu and his playfellows arm themselves with bows and arrows.
As they coast rapidly past the reindeer antlers, they shoot at them
and try to leave their arrows fixed in as many as possible. Of course,
he who hits the greatest number wins the game. This is exciting sport
indeed, and Etu will go home afterward ready to eat such a quantity of
frozen seal blubber as to make the eyes of any one but an Eskimo open
wide with wonder.
Eskimo, I just said; but Etu does not call himself by that name. He
will tell you that he is one of the Innuits, as his father has taught
him. The word "Innuit" means "people."
Etu's mother has told him of an old, old legend of her race, about the
creation of the world. At first human beings were made white, but they
were not worthy of their Maker. Then others were created who were the
true people, or the Innuits.
The word Eskimo means "eater of raw fish." It was given to these
natives of the far north by the travellers who came among them and
observed their queer ways of living and eating.
"Raw meat! Raw fish!" they exclaimed among themselves. "These are
indeed queer people who enjoy such food in a freezing climate."
So it came about that they spoke of them as Eskimos, and the name has
clung to Etu's people ever since.
The boy remembers well his first candy. He had been ill, but was
getting strong once more. His good patient mother wished to bring
a smile to his pale face, so while he was sleeping she prepared a
surprise.
She took the red feet of a bird called the dovekie, and, drawing out
the bones, blew into the skin until it was puffed out as full as
possible. Then she poured melted reindeer fat into these bright-colored
pouches, and the candy-bags were finished.
Etu's eyes grew suddenly bright when they opened upon the surprise
prepared for him. It did not take many minutes, you may well believe,
for every bit of this odd candy to disappear. You may like chocolate
creams and cocoanut cakes, and think them the greatest treat in the
world, but in Etu's opinion there is nothing better than a big lump of
seal blubber or the marrow from the inside of a deer's bones.
When he had his first bow and arrow, it was a very tiny one. He learned
to shoot at a target inside his winter home. His mother would hang up
pieces of fat meat across the room where he sat, and he would try very
hard to pierce them. If he succeeded, he could have the meat to eat, so
of course he tried very hard.
At other times he would sit watching for a dog to push his head up
through the doorway, and let fly the arrow at him. At first this seems
like a very cruel sport, but the arrow was blunted and very small; it
could not do much harm, even if it struck the dog, who would bound away
out of sight only to appear again in a few moments.
Of course, Etu has played ball all his life, but his ball is of a
different kind from yours. It is made of sealskin. Sometimes he will
try with other boys to knock it about so continually that it is kept
in the air for a long, long time without falling. At other times all
engage in a grand game of football, but, according to their ideas, the
children must on no account touch the ball with their hands. That would
be a "foul play," as you boys would say. By their rules it can only be
kicked.
In the long winter evenings there is still more fun. In Etu's big
household old and young gather around the dim, smoky lamp and tell
stories. There are such wonderful adventures to relate of daring deeds
on sea and land. Etu listens breathless to tales of the white bear
surprised in his den, of long tramps after prey, when life depended
on fresh supplies, and King Frost was striving to seize the weakened
bodies of the hunters.
Then there are quaint legends and fairy tales, besides stories of
wondrous beings in the unseen world around. Some of these beings are
good, and some bad. Etu does not like to hear about these last, and
tries to put them out of his mind when he is travelling alone.
But the evenings are not wholly given to story-telling, for the people
are fond of music. They like dancing, also, for it makes them feel
jolly and gay. They pass many an hour singing monotonous songs which
they think very sweet, but which we would think tiresome.
Sometimes when Etu's mother has finished her work for the day, she
gathers the children of the house around her, and shows them how to
make wonderful figures with strings of deer's sinews. You all know the
game of cat's cradle; well, it is something like that, only very much
harder.
The woman fastens the string back and forth on her son's hands, then
weaves it quickly in and out; before one knows it, she has shaped it
into the body of a musk ox. A few more changes are made, when, behold!
it is no longer a musk ox, but has become a reindeer or a seal. It
requires a great deal of skill to do this, but Etu can make nearly
as many figures as his mother, although she has had so many years of
practice.