Part 5

The next day the second son said that he must go after his brother. So he went too; and after him the third. At last the fourth followed the others and the parents found themselves alone with the youngest son, who was only a boy. He of course wanted to go to find his brothers, and the father and mother, who were already very sad at losing four boys, had hard work to keep him at home. They shut him in the house, and took turns watching that he did not get away.

One day, however, the mother fell asleep and the boy, who had been waiting for a chance, slipped out of the house and ran as fast as he could go. After he had run far enough to feel sure they could not catch him, he made the image of a man out of birchbark and fastened it to the top of his parka hood, where it stood up very high and white. Having done this he went merrily on his way.

After walking a long time he saw a huge house, with an enormous giant standing out in front of it. Beside the giant hung a drum. This drum was a big box, with seal intestine stretched over the ends, and all around the edge of it was bone, as sharp as a knife. The Eskimos use drums for their ceremonial dances, but the boy had never seen such a big one as this. On the ground all about the giant were the bones and skulls of the men he had devoured.

The little fellow was so frightened he wanted to run away, but it was too late, for the giant had already seen him and shouted to him that he must dance. The boy obeyed, and while he was dancing the giant beat upon the drum and sang a long song. When he came to the end of the song, he gave a mighty shout and hurled the drum at the boy’s head. Whizzing through the air, the drum struck the arm of the birchbark image and broke it off; then the boy took the drum and sang the giant’s song. When he had finished, he threw the drum back and it cut off one of the giant’s arms. They kept throwing the drum back and forth at each other until at last the image was broken, and the giant fell dead. The birchbark image had saved the boy’s life, because the giant mistook it for the boy and threw the drum at it every time.

The boy was terribly proud of himself; indeed, he could hardly believe he had killed that great giant, and he waited a little way off until he saw that the giant did not move; then he went into the house. When he got inside he heard a sound of crying that seemed to come from under the floor. There, in a deep pit, he found his four brothers, who were being kept by the giant for a great feast that was to take place the next day. If the boy had come two days later he would have found nothing left of his brothers but their bones.

You may be sure the four boys were happy to be saved from such a cruel fate, and they could not praise their brother enough for his cleverness and courage.

Bringing the great drum with them, they hurried back as fast as they could to their parents.

After that they were all content to stay at home and hunt walruses and whales; for they had had enough of going abroad in search of adventure.

LOVEK AND SERANAK

Long ago, on St. Lawrence Island in the Bering Sea there lived a strong man named Lovek. This man was very bad; indeed, he was a big bully. Whenever any of his neighbors went hunting, Lovek would take away whatever they had killed, as soon as they had hauled it over the ice to the shore. Every one in the village was afraid of this man who took away all their food, and who was so strong no one could beat him. The people did not know what to do, and were almost afraid to go hunting at all, for Lovek was sure to find them and take away their game.

Now in this village there lived an orphan boy with his uncle. The boy’s name was Seranak, and he was so poor he had scarcely any clothes to wear and almost no food to eat.

One night at the kasga, Seranak heard the people talking about Lovek. They hardly dared to speak aloud, and Seranak had to creep up close to his uncle to hear what they were saying; but he heard enough to make him feel very sorry for all the people, and determined to do something to help them get rid of such a bad man.

When his uncle reached home, Seranak begged for some clothes and weapons that he might go hunting.

At first his uncle refused, saying, “No, Seranak. What would a little boy like you do if Lovek came along? He would take away anything you had caught and might kill you too.”

Seranak begged so hard that at last his uncle said he might go, and gave him a warm parka, a good pair of mukluks and a fine strong spear with a sharp tip made of walrus ivory, and a long line made of walrus hide. The boy thanked his uncle and went down to the ice which spread out like a roof over the sea.

No sooner did he reach the edge of the ice than a walrus stuck his great head up out of the water. To Seranak that walrus looked very funny with his whiskers like an old man and two long tusks; he seemed to be saying, “What do you think you can do, little boy, with that long spear?” But he soon knew what “little boy” could do, for quickly Seranak raised his arm, gave the spear a thrust, and it sank deep into the side of the walrus. After that the boy hauled the animal upon the ice and began cutting him up for meat.

While he was working away with his uncle’s fine hunting knife, Lovek came along, and stopping beside him with an evil grin, said, “Ha ha, Seranak. So you are a big man now that you have killed a walrus! It is good of you to go hunting for me. I will take the head now and the meat later.”

Seranak said not a word but went on with his work just as though he had heard nothing at all.

This surprised Lovek, whose stupid big face took on a puzzled expression. He had never been treated like that before. Usually people jumped and looked scared when he shouted at them.

Coming a little nearer, he roared at Seranak, “Boy, don’t you hear me? Hand me that walrus head!”

Seranak paid no attention at all, until Lovek was almost on top of him; then suddenly springing to his feet, he flung the surprised Lovek into the deep water between the floes of ice. After a while Lovek came to the top, puffing and blowing like a whale. Every time he stuck his head out of the water, there was Seranak with his big spear. At last, when Lovek was nearly drowned and almost frozen, Seranak said, “Lovek, I have you at my mercy now and I will not let you out unless you promise to be good and never again take that which does not belong to you.”

Of course Lovek promised. He was terribly frightened and greatly surprised to find that he could be beaten by a little boy. After that he was good to the hunters and became the kindest man in the village.

From that time Seranak was the hero of the people, and when he grew up the people called him “Ommalik,” which is the same almost as “Big Chief.”

THE CARIBOU

Long ago there was an Eskimo family living in a place quite by themselves, and far away from any village.

The father had been killed by a caribou some years before, so the widowed mother was alone with her two sons. They had been little boys when the father died, but now they were young men and fine hunters.

Every day they used to go hunting. Always they brought back game of some kind, so the family lived on the fat of the land.

At that time there were many caribou, which in those days had long sharp teeth and could bite and kill people. Men used to hunt them with bows and arrows and spears.

One day the two young men went out to hunt as usual, but this time they did not return.

Days passed and they did not come. Their poor mother was sad and anxious, waiting for them. Every day she looked about and watched and waited, but still they did not come home. She did not dare to go far from the house to search for them, for she was afraid of the fierce caribou with their sharp teeth.

One day as she was watching, always hoping to see her sons coming back, a big crow came flying by. She called out, “Crow, Crow, can you tell me where are my two boys?”

And the crow said, “Yes, I know where your two boys are.” Then he flew up still higher and circled about saying, “Caw, caw!” and the poor mother was nearly frantic for fear that he would fly away without telling her.

“O please come back!” she cried; but he flew a little higher, teasingly saying, “Caw, caw! Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The woman went into her house and brought a piece of seal blubber and held it up.

“I will give you this, Crow, if you tell me where to find them.”

Lazily the crow floated down and perched on the ground nearby.

“Give it to me,” said he.

“Tell me first,” said she.

So cocking his head on one side he said, “All right, I will tell you, but your sons are both dead. The caribou killed them with their long teeth.”

The poor mother was in despair, but she remembered to give the crow his meat, and as he was about to fly away, she said, “Crow, if you will show me the way to my sons, I will feed you whenever you come.”

So the crow told her where to go, but he said, “You will never feed me again if you go there, because the caribou will tear you with their teeth.”

Then he flapped his big black wings and said, “Caw, caw!” And the woman thought he was laughing at her.

Going into the house, she covered herself all over with the red juice of cranberries. It is very sour and tastes very bad. Her whole parka was stained bright red with it; even her mukluks and mittens. Then, without taking a weapon of any kind, she started off for the place where the crow had told her she would find her boys.

It was a long way, and many caribou came after her and caught her parka in their teeth and tried to bite her, but as soon as they tasted the cranberry juice it was so terribly sour all their teeth fell out, leaving them unable to bite any more.

When the mother came to where her two sons were lying, they seemed to be asleep and covered with wounds from the bites of the caribou.

Crying, “Wake up, wake up!” in a loud voice, she kicked the soles of their feet, first one then the other. As she did this, each one in turn sat up and opened his eyes. They were very happy to see their mother, and she rejoiced to find them alive. Then she helped them to their feet and took them home and nursed them back to health.

As soon as their wounds healed, the boys went hunting as before, but without fear, for from that time on, the caribou have never had any long teeth.

A FOX STORY

Long ago, in the mountains of the Seward Peninsula, there lived a fox who had a family of babies in his den. It was summer time, and he was busy trying to find food for his little family. Every morning he used to go hunting, while Mother Fox stayed home to take care of the baby foxes, and see that they got into no mischief. When the young foxes grew big enough to hunt for themselves, Father Fox decided to go on a journey of adventure.

One day he climbed a high mountain. There was a deep ravine and then another mountain, and he thought he would like to cross the divide to see if there was any game on the opposite mountain. He had never been over there, and he hoped he might find some good, fat ptarmigans or rabbits on a new hunting-ground. Looking about, he saw a bear who was eating a newly killed caribou.

The fox called to the bear in a coaxing voice, saying, “Dear Cousin, give me a piece of that meat and some of the fat.”

“No!” growled the bear. “You get away from here right away! If you don’t I will kill you, too!” That bear was not at all polite, nor was he very generous, but the fox did not dare to say anything because he was really afraid of the bear, so he just went slinking away through the brush with his bushy tail dragging on the ground.

“I will get even with the bear somehow,” he muttered.

After a while what should he meet but another bear.

“Good-morning, Cousin,” said the fox most politely; “I was looking for you.”

“What were you looking for me for?” asked the bear.

“Well, if you are hungry, I know where you can get a fine dinner,” said the sly fox.

“Where is that?” asked the bear, beginning to look interested.

“A little while ago I saw another animal like you, only not so big, and he was eating a fine, fat caribou. I will show you where he is if you want; then, together, we can kill that other bear, and both have plenty to eat.”

The bear looked surprised. “O no,” said he. “We never do such things as that. Bears do not kill each other. We are friends.”

“That is nothing,” said the fox. “When we are hungry, we foxes kill each other, and eat each other, too. The bear I saw is a bad bear. He said he would bite you, if he met you.”

Now the fox knew he was telling an untruth, but he wanted to make this bear angry with the other one. He was not a good character, that fox. Of course, the bear was angry at that.

“We will go fight now, and I will see what that bear means by saying such things.” He was really furious, and went off through the woods with great strides, so that the fox had to run to keep up with him.

As soon as he saw the bear with the caribou, he jumped at him and a desperate battle began. While they were busy fighting, the fox took all the fat from the caribou and hid it under his skin.

When the second bear had beaten the bear with the caribou, and had driven him away, he saw the fox lying on the ground moaning and groaning as though in great pain.

“What is the matter, Cousin?” asked the bear.

“O!” groaned the fox, “I am almost dead!” And he rolled over and made believe to cry. “I got terribly hurt helping you in that terrible fight. It was I who gave your enemy the blow that drove him away.”

Now of course this was not true at all, but the bear was very sorry and thought him a brave and loyal friend.

“You are a brave fox,” he said, “and we will always be friends.”

Then they ate all they wanted of the caribou, and left the place together.

When the fox got hungry he would just take some of the fat of the caribou from under his skin and feed on that. When the bear got hungry he could find nothing to eat but a few blueberries. The poor animal who was starving began to wonder why the fox was never hungry, so he asked him, “Cousin have you been eating something?” and the fox said, “When I am hungry, I just make a little hole in my skin and eat some of my own fat, then I am satisfied.” Wasn’t he an awful story-teller?

The bear thought he would like to try that, too, so he took a bite out of himself, and pretty soon he died. The wicked fox laughed at that, for it was the very thing he had planned. He was pleased to have the bear to eat, and removing the fat from his one-time friend, he stuffed it under his own skin, and for a long while lived not on the “fat of the land” as they say, but on the fat of the companion who trusted and admired him.

Winter was coming; the days were growing dark and cold, and Mr. Sly Fox was beginning to get hungry again. He wondered what he should do for food, and began to hunt about the woods.

One day he met a wolf who was also in search of food.

The wolf asked him, “Fox, Fox, where have you been, you look so fine and fat, while all the other animals are hungry these cold days?”

“Of course I look fine,” said the fox. “I hunt all the time and get plenty of food.”

“What do you hunt?”

The fox had to think hard for an answer; then he said, “Well, I fish every day.”

It was winter then, and so far north the days were very short. The sun got up late in the morning, and went to bed again in about three hours; even then he didn’t get far up in the sky, but hung low like a great big red balloon on the horizon.

The wolf asked the fox where he was getting all that fish.

The fox answered, “O, I have a big lake where I get all the fish I want. I will show it to you if you would like me to.” And he asked the wolf if he had any hooks to fish with.

“No,” said the wolf. “I have no fish-hooks because I never fish. I don’t know how.”

“I will make you a hook and show you how to fish. It is easy,” said the fox.

Then he took some of the dried grass which is used by the Eskimo women for making baskets; weaving a rope out of it, he put a piece of stone on the end, and he and the wolf went fishing like the best of friends. When they reached the lake the fox made a hole in the ice and told the wolf to sit near the hole and to drop the stone into the water through the hole, then to keep moving it up and down by the string.

“Now,” said the fox, “you must remain the whole day moving that string up and down. When the sun sets you will get fish.”

The fox stayed, playing about watching the wolf, who sat patiently by the hole splashing the stone up and down in the water. Pretty soon the fox saw the wolf’s big, bushy tail was getting covered with water. Now it was getting colder every minute, and almost dark, and at last the fox saw that the wolf’s tail was freezing fast to the ice of the lake. Then he began to laugh out loud: “Ha ha ha!”

The wolf looked around suspiciously to see if the fox was laughing at him, as he was beginning to get cross. He was tired, anyway, of sitting there joggling that line up and down all day.

“What are you laughing at, Fox?” he said. “Are you trying to trick me like you do every one?”

Mr. Sly Fox put on a very surprised and sorry face. “O no,” said he. “I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing. I was just laughing with joy at the thought of all the fine whitefish we will soon have for supper.” Then he began to play around the wolf, and soon he laughed. “Ha! ha! ha! O my! I will have plenty to eat now!”

The wolf turned with an angry snarl, showing his long fangs. “What! Are you talking about me? Do you think you will eat me? We will see!” And he made a leap for the fox, but his tail was stuck fast to the ice so that he could not get away. Throwing himself from side to side, and yelping like a dog, he struggled to get free, but still the ice held him prisoner, until at last, with an angry howl, he snapped off his tail with his own sharp teeth, and ran furiously after the treacherous fox, who was already nearly out of sight. The wolf chased him as hard as he could, and had nearly caught up with him, when the fox saw a hole in a steep bank and popped inside. The wolf was too big to go into the hole, so he sat outside, waiting for the fox to come out; but Mr. Fox was not to be caught that way. Knowing that the wolf would die from having chopped off his tail with his teeth, the fox just stayed safely where he was until morning; then came out and ate up his former friend. When he had finished devouring the wolf and felt well fed and comfortable, he started out in search of some other animal to fool.

In his wanderings he came upon a high mountain, which had a long smooth place down its steep side, made by a snowslide which had swept everything before it, leaving a glistening path in its wake.

The fox began to play sliding-down-the-mountain, and was enjoying it hugely. In one place he had to pass close to some big, sharp rocks, and he dug into the snow a little with his claws to get safely by. After that he climbed up to the top again, and there he saw a mountain sheep coming toward him.

“Hello, Sheep. Don’t you want to play with me?” asked the fox; but the sheep said that he did not want to slide there.

“Why not?” inquired the fox in a surprised sort of voice.

“Because I know that if I slide down there, I shall be killed by those sharp rocks,” said the sheep.

But the fox answered, “Why, I thought a mountain sheep would not be afraid of a nice little slide like that. I will tell you how to do it. When you slide down, shut your eyes tight, as soon as you come near the rocks, and you will get past all right.”

The sheep said, “Let me see you do it first.”

So the fox lay down on the snow and slid. As he came near the rocks he dug his claws a little into the snow to steer himself safely past. When the sheep saw the fox come back without a scratch on his fine red coat, he said, “Well, I will try it, for surely a mountain sheep is as brave as a red fox!”

Shutting his eyes tight, he said, “One, two, three!” And away he went, down like the wind straight into the sharp rocks, and was killed.

That wicked fox was glad. He laughed again, for now he had a whole mountain sheep to eat, and that is the sweetest and tenderest meat in the world, and would last him a long time.

Before he had finished eating the sheep, a bear came along.

“Fox, how did you kill that sheep?”

“I didn’t kill that sheep. I found it dead,” said the fox, for he did not want the bear to know how treacherous he was.

“Well, we will share what is left,” said the bear; and of course the fox did not dare to refuse him. He was a pretty big bear, and looked rather fierce and very hungry.

No bear has any business to be wandering about the forest in winter. He should have been snugly sleeping in his den until summer time like any self-respecting bear does, except a polar bear, who stays out all night.

They filled themselves up on sheep meat, and then walked away through the woods together like old friends.

“Fox,” said the bear, “are you ever afraid of animals?”

“There is not an animal in the world I am afraid of,” said the fox, “except that two-legged creature called Man. Of him I am in constant terror.”

The bear laughed at him. “You are silly to be afraid of that. I am not afraid of a man; only of ptarmigan.”

Then it was the fox’s turn to laugh. “Why, I kill ptarmigan and eat them!”

The bear did not like to be laughed at much by a fox, so he walked quietly along for a while, thinking; then he said, “Well, Fox, I will make a bargain with you. If you will kill two ptarmigan for me, I will kill two men, and give you one.”

The fox looked pleased. “That is easy,” said he. “You wait here.” And off he went trotting out of sight.

I am sure he played some trick again, for ptarmigan are not easy to see in winter against the snow, when they wear their white dresses.

Mr. Fox very shortly came back with a ptarmigan in his mouth. He gave it to the bear, who after eating it said, “Now, Fox, I will go and find a man for you.”

For two whole days the fox waited for the bear, and the bear did not come back. Then the fox felt sure that the bear had been killed, and he wanted to see how the man had killed him.

Closely following the bear’s tracks, he found the tracks of two men also. The fox was really scared at the sight of the men’s tracks. He was terribly afraid of men, and he began to be sorry that he had been so wicked and had killed so many of his friends.

Sneaking through the woods with his tail dragging, he passed near a trap, which he could smell for a long distance, it was so dirty. There was no danger of his being caught in that trap. He said to himself, “That man is lazy; he will never catch any animals in his dirty traps. A lazy man will never catch anything.”

After a while he passed another trap, but this one had been set out hastily, so the fox got the bait without getting caught.

“That man is lazy, too,” said the fox, “for he gets up too late in the morning to put out his trap. These men are stupid creatures anyway. I don’t believe I am afraid of them after all.”

Just as he said this, snap, Mr. Smart Fox was caught at last.

“Ah!” sighed the fox. “There is one man who is not lazy. His trap is clean; I could neither smell it, nor see it. I am caught now.”

So this is what happened to the bad fox who had killed so many animals.

It never pays to be treacherous. One should always be loyal to one’s friends.

MI-E-RAK-PUK