Chapter II: Part 2

Soon the uncle climbed to the top of the kasga and peered down through the window hole to see if the boy was there. When he saw his nephew running about, he was more angry than ever, and called down in a loud voice, “Try as hard as you can to live, I will kill you.” Then the boy heard the footsteps going away over the snow, and crept back into the sleeping-bag.

When it began to be dark, some one crept up to the window hole and said, “Hello.” It was the kind man, and happy indeed was the poor little boy to hear the voice of his friend.

The man was very much surprised to hear the boy’s answering “Hello,” and very much pleased, and said, “Last night, the wicked shaman transformed himself into a snake and went out. In the morning he came crawling back without his stomach, and died. You killed that shaman, I am sure. Now tonight your uncle sent for the very highest shaman of all, and told him he must kill you himself. I am afraid he will succeed this time, with his great magic. You must try your very best to save yourself any way.”

Leaving some food and water, the kind man went away, and the boy, shivering with cold and fright, crept back into his bag.

Pretty soon he heard a great noise by the door, and there was a bigger snake than before; a real monster this time. My! How scared that poor little boy was!

He looked about for a weapon to fight the snake with, but there was none.

Nearer and nearer came the horrible creature, with his mouth wide open.

Then the boy’s eyes fell upon the big stone lamp. It was very heavy, but he took it in his hands and went right up to the snake.

“If you are going to eat me, Snake,” he said, “open your mouth as wide as you can, and swallow me quick.” The snake hissed loudly, and opened his mouth very wide, and the boy threw the lamp right down the monster’s throat. When the snake had swallowed the lamp, he thought it was the boy and went out. After that the boy got into the bag as before and slept until morning.

As soon as it was daylight the chief came to see if the shaman had obeyed his command. He looked down through the window and saw the boy standing there looking up at him. He surely was surprised.

“How dare you be alive?” said he. “This is the last day for you anyway. If the shaman can’t kill you, I will do it myself.”

Long after the uncle had gone, when it began to be dark, some one came to the window hole and shouted, “Hello!” It was his friend, and how happy it made the little boy to hear that kind voice!

“I am thankful that you are alive,” said the voice. “When the shaman came back last night, he said he had something heavy inside of him, and this morning he was dead. I am sure you killed the wicked shaman, but I fear you will be dead tomorrow yourself. Your uncle has told every man to try to kill you, but I brought you a little spear, and a bow, and a crown; also a warm parka, and some oil. When you put on your clothes, take some of this oil and grease yourself all over, then take some coals from one of the lamps and blacken your face. When you have done this, sit still until your uncle calls you; then go out.”

After saying this and giving him the things, the man went away, and the boy was alone again; but this time he felt more hopeful, for did he not have a spear and a bow? And had he not a nice warm parka to put on? Then, too, he was going to get out, anything was better than staying there alone in the dark and cold.

In the morning the boy got up and put on his clothes, which fit as though made for him, and which felt so good and warm after having had no clothes at all for such a long time. He tried the little bow, and that was just the right size for him, too. When he had blackened his face, and put on the little crown, he sat down to wait for the chief.

He did not have long to wait. Pretty soon he heard the _crunch, crunch_, of footsteps coming over the snow; then the cruel voice of his uncle calling him to come out.

Now the little fellow knew that he was going through that door to be killed, but he took his spear and his bow, and went out as bravely as any man.

When he got outside he saw his uncle standing by the door with a big spear, and a crowd of people armed with spears and bows, all waiting to kill one little boy.

As soon as they saw him they raised a great howl, and hurled their spears at him and shot their arrows; but the weapons struck the oily surface of his parka and glanced aside without harming him at all. Then the boy hurled his spear at his uncle with all his might. It struck deep into his flesh, and the wicked man went off, howling like a dog, and never came back; for which every one was sincerely thankful.

After that the boy heard some one calling, and looking up he saw the kind man and his wife standing on the roof of their igloo, and they were shouting, “Let us make him chief! Let us make him chief!”

Then the people who wanted to kill him when the wicked uncle was there, shouted, “He will be our chief now! He will be our chief!” So the boy became chief, and went to live with the kind man and his wife, and took them for his parents and was good to them, just as they had been good to him when he was in trouble.

From that time on, the Eskimos have continued the custom of adopting little orphan children into their homes, and taking care of them; being very kind, and never like the wicked uncle at all.

A RACE BETWEEN A REINDEER AND A TOM-COD

Long ago somewhere on the shore of the Arctic Ocean a reindeer was taking a walk on the beach, enjoying the fine air, and the sea salt of which the reindeer are so fond. As he passed a little point on the beach jutting out into the ocean, a fish called tom-cod said, “Well, Deer, how do you do?” The deer stopped to say good-morning to the fish, and asked him if he did not think it would be fun to run a race, and settle for all time which could go the fastest, a reindeer or a fish.

The tom-cod thought about it for a while; then said, “I am very busy today, Reindeer, but if you will come this time tomorrow morning, we shall race, and I shall beat you.”

“We shall see,” said the deer, and went home.

When the deer was out of sight the fish sent a message to all the tom-cods near that shore. He told them that the next morning he would have a race with a deer, and that they must answer the deer ever time he said, “Fish, are you there?”

At sunrise the next day the deer came to the meeting-place and said, “Fish, are you there?”

“Yes,” answered the tom-cod. “I am waiting for you.”

The reindeer walked along the shore, but the tom-cod laughed to himself in fish language, and stayed quietly in the same place in the water.

After walking about a mile, the reindeer said, “Fish, are you there?”

Then another fish answered him, and said, “Yes, Reindeer, I am here, and I could go much faster if I did not have to wait for you.”

The reindeer hurried on a little faster. After a while he said, “Fish, are you there?” and still another fish answered him and said, “Yes, Reindeer, I am here, but I could go much faster if I did not have to wait for you.”

Then the reindeer, who thought it was the same fish all the time, ran as fast as the wind for a little way. When he stopped he asked, “Fish, are you there?” and still another fish answered, “O yes, I am here, but you are too slow for me.”

After that the deer fell exhausted on the beach and could run no more. So in that way the tom-cod won the race.

WHY THEY HAVE SUMMER ON ST. LAWRENCE ISLAND

Long, long ago, on St. Lawrence Island, there lived an old woman with her little grandson. They were very poor, so poor that the old woman had a hard time to feed and care for the boy.

It was always cold and stormy, and sometimes they had almost nothing to eat for days at a time, because the wind blew so hard that the little boy could not stay out to catch tom-cods.

One time when it had been stormy for many days, and the old grandmother was nearly dying of hunger, the little boy said to her, “Grandma, do you know what makes storms like this?”

“No,” said she; “I only know that it is always cold and windy; only some days are worse than others. In some places they have sunshine, but never here. We will die of hunger and cold, but the wind will go on blowing just the same, and the snow will fall.”

The poor grandmother bowed her head, and the tears fell on her cheeks.

The boy said, “How is it, Grandma, that you live so long and do not know what makes storms? I shall find out myself.”

The grandmother had to laugh, weak and sad as she was. “Why, how can you find out such things? You are only a little boy.”

He stood up beside her and tried to look very big and strong.

“Grandma,” said he, “I will teach you about storms myself, even if I am only a little boy. I will find out how to stop these storms.”

Then he asked her to mend his mukluks and his mittens, and to be sure there were no holes in his parka, for he was going out.

The old woman said “No” at first, and begged him not to go, but seeing how determined he was she let him have his way, and got his things ready as he had asked her to do.

When she had finished, the little fellow put the parka over his head, and with his high fur mukluks, and good mittens, he was well protected from the wind.

Outside the igloo he stopped to watch the storm and which way the snow was drifting. After studying it for a while he said to himself, “I know now where the storm comes from,” and putting his head down he took a long breath and started to walk against the wind, which was so strong that it took him a long time to make any progress at all. The snow was thick and caused him to stop every few steps, and turn his back to the wind, to rest and get his breath.

At last, when he began to despair of getting any farther, he saw something big and dark moving through the snow. It was a man, a very big man. He had on a fine parka with a big band of wolverine fur about the hood, that stood out from his face like the rays of the sun; only the little boy had never seen the sun, so he never thought of that.

Luckily the man had his back to the boy, and of course could not hear him in such a howling wind.

Back and forth, the man walked in the snow, intent upon his work, and not looking about him at all.

The boy watched him closely, and saw that he had a spear, and a big shovel made from the shoulder-bone of a whale. First the man would break up a lot of snow with the spear, then he would scoop it up with his shovel, and with a great shout fling that snow wildly about in every direction. He seemed to be singing some kind of a wild song, and as he waved his shovel high in the air the snow flew thick and fast, whirling away in the great blast of wind made by the fanning of the shovel.

The boy listened for the words of the song. They sounded something like this:

“Whir-r-r-r away.
Away blow.
Fill the day,
With flying snow.
Here you go.
There you go.
Blow, blow, BLOW!”

At the last “BLOW” he would give a great shout, and whirl around so fast, and fling the snow so hard, that he would almost lose his balance and fall over on the ground.

How do you think the boy felt when he realized that he had all unexpectedly come upon the Storm Man himself? He was so excited he forgot to feel cold or tired, and began to wonder what he could do, he, a little boy, as his dear old grandmother had so rightly said, to stop the Storm Man from making any more storms. The man was very big and fierce and strong, and he himself was so very little, and had had so little to eat for a long time that he was not strong at all.

Watching the Storm Man, he noticed that every time he got through chopping a lot of snow, he would drop the spear behind him, and stoop to pick up the shovel; so, waiting until the man was entirely absorbed in his shovel and his song, the little boy grabbed the big spear and scampered off across the snow for dear life.

My! How heavy that spear did feel, and how the boy did run! For in spite of his burden, he was so sure the Storm Man was after him that Fear lent wings to his feet and he fairly flew over the snow toward his grandmother’s little house.

Safely he reached the door, and fell breathless on the floor behind his grandmother with the spear in his hand. Almost at his heels, he heard the Storm Man shouting behind him, “Give me my spear! Give me my spear!”

The old woman roused herself, opened her eyes, and saw the boy.

“My son,” said she, “if you have anything belonging to that man, give it to him or he will kill us.”

“Grandmother, dear Grandmother, don’t make me give back the spear, for that is the Storm Man, and if I give it back now, he will make a terrible big storm and we shall die anyhow. If I keep it he cannot make the storms.”

Then the man shouted louder than ever, “If you do not give me back my spear the sky will fall on you! You will be killed and every one on St. Lawrence Island will die, too; but if you give it back right away, it will be summer when you wake up tomorrow morning. The sun will be shining, and the salmon-berries will be ripening all about the house. Then go down to the river and set your nets, and they will quickly be full of fine salmon. Hurry! Hurry! Give me my spear!”

The grandmother again said, “Boy, give that man his spear.”

The little boy was very angry, because he did not believe the Storm Man, and thought they would be killed anyway, but he did not dare disobey the grandmother, so he took the spear to the fireplace and struck the point against the stone lamp to make it dull. When he had finished, he threw it out of the window hole, and called, “There is your spear. I know you are the Storm Man.”

The Storm Man only laughed, and said, “Konnu has sharpened my spear.” Now “Konnu” was the boy’s name.

After that the grandmother and the boy heard the howling song of the Storm Man grow fainter and fainter in the distance, until they both fell asleep to its soothing sound.

Early in the morning the boy was awakened by a strange dazzling light in his eyes. It was the sun. True to his word, the Storm Man had let the summer come.

Outside it was warm. Sunshine was everywhere, making everything look bright and beautiful. The ground about the house was thick with ripening salmon berries, and the sky was blue, with little white puffy clouds floating over it.

Konnu took his nets down to the river, and saw the salmon swimming lazily about. His heart was full of joy, for he knew the Storm Man had kept his word, that this was summer, and they need not be hungry and cold any more.

THE LOST SON

Long ago, in a village on the Arctic coast of Alaska, there lived a man and his wife, with their only son.

The boy was clever and brave, and a good hunter. Every spring he went out with his harpoon and killed a whale, but he did not worship the whales as his father did. The father thought the whales had great power, and he used to pray to them.

One winter while the young man was out hunting, the ice broke and drifted away from land, leaving him on the ice floe with a great expanse of shining sea between himself and the shore. There was no way for him to reach land, and, to make matters worse, a storm arose, and the wind blew and howled, and the waves grew so big that they looked like mountains. Pretty soon the ice was all broken up, so that he found himself on a very small, high iceberg. He had scarcely room to turn around, and all night long he clung there, cramped up and cold.

When daylight came again, and he saw that he was all alone on a little piece of ice, floating on a big black ocean, without even a glimpse of land to cheer him, he fell into deep despair. Very miserably he waited there, looking out over the sea until night began to fall once more; then he could bear it no longer. Taking his hunting knife from its sheath, he made ready to kill himself. As he raised the knife, a hand from above seized his hand, and a great voice spoke in his heart, saying, “You must not do that. It is wrong.” On hearing this, he dropped the knife in the water, and suddenly he felt himself being drawn up swiftly through the air. When he recovered his breath and looked about him, he was in heaven. It was very light, and he was not cold or sad any more.

While he stood there enjoying the balmy air and warm sunshine, a kind man came along, and took him to his home, where he was as well fed and treated as by a loving father.

Now his own father and mother were in great distress, and scarcely knew how to live without him. The neighbors were sorry for them, and every one in the village spoke kindly of the young man, whom they looked upon as lost forever.

At the far end of the village, in a tiny hut, there lived an old woman with her little granddaughter.

One day the little girl said, “Grandma, I wish I might bring back that young man.”

“Indeed, my dear, I wish so too,” answered the old woman; “but how could one little girl do what all the wise people in the village have not been able to accomplish?”

But the little girl kept on thinking about it and wishing she could bring the young man back to his unhappy parents; until at last she could think of nothing else, and could neither eat nor sleep for thinking of it.

One night, while her grandmother slept, the little girl lay looking at the old stone lamp, dreaming of the sadness that had come over her village because the boy, whom they all loved, was lost. She fancied the flickering light, from its wick of moss, winked at her, as much as to say, “I know something you would like to know.” So she began to talk to it in a low voice, that she might not awaken her grandmother. “Lamp, dear Lamp, can’t you go and find that boy? Your eyes are so bright, and you look so wise. Won’t you please go and find him?”

She sat up on her little heels, with her hands clasped, speaking eagerly.

The old grandmother stirred uneasily among her bear skins on the floor. The lamp twinkled and flickered, then, trembling a little, began to hop with short quick hops at first, then higher and higher, until at last, waving a bright goodby to her, the little lamp shot right out through the hole that is in the roof of every Eskimo house, and went straight up to heaven to get the young man, and bring him home.

“O Grandmother!” cried the little girl. “Our lamp has gone after him.”

The grandmother shivered, for without the lamp which supplied their heat and light, she felt cold. Drawing the little girl down beside her, she snuggled under the big fur rugs and went to sleep.

When the lamp reached heaven it went straight to the house where the young man was. It hopped so quickly through the ventilator, into the house, that some of the oil spilled out on the floor. The man who lived there tried to grab it, but each time he thought he had caught it, the lamp slipped from his fingers, and hopped away through the air, beckoning to the young man to come. Quickly jumping into the bowl of the lamp, the boy sat there and was carried straight down to the little girl.

When the little girl opened her eyes in the morning, she was disappointed to see the old lamp twinkling away in its accustomed place, looking very innocent indeed. The child thought it must have been a dream. Then a shadow came between her and the lamp, and she saw the boy standing, smiling down at her and the grandmother, and she knew that her dream had come true.

When they had recovered from their astonishment, and the boy had asked all about his parents and his friends, they talked a long while together and arranged a fine plan to give his father and mother a surprise.

The grandmother was to go to his house at once and ask his parents to give her some clothes, for those he had on were shabby and soiled, but she was to make believe that she wanted them for herself.

When the old woman reached the boy’s home, the parents welcomed her very kindly and asked what they could do for her.

“Let me have some of your son’s clothes,” said she. “My little granddaughter and I are very poor, and the weather is cold.”

“Alas!” sighed the man. “Our son is lost to us, and I fear he will not want his clothes any more. He would be happy to know that they were of use to you.”

They gave her the very best parka and mukluks the boy had, also some food. She thanked them heartily, and went home as fast as she could, for the sight of their sad faces made her feel that no time must be lost in making them happy again.

By the time the boy was dressed, and they had all had some food, it was evening. Then the two children ran hand in hand to the kasga, where the people were gathering to sing songs and play games.

The little girl went in first, and asked if she too might sing. They gave her a drum, and she sang a wonderful song, all about a dream she had had, which really was the story of how the lamp had found the boy and brought him home.

The sad parents were there, and the mother began to cry for her son, and the father said, “I wish that dream would come true!”

Just as he said this, the boy gave a shout and rushed into the room. You can imagine how surprised they all were, and how happy too.

Then the little girl slipped quietly out and went home with a shining face.

“Grandmother,” said she, “I can sleep well tonight, for I know everybody is glad again.”

The next day the boy came to the grandmother, and asked her and her granddaughter to come to live at his home with his father and mother.

They went with him, and after that they were always happy and comfortable, for the boy became a famous hunter, and kept them all supplied with good things to eat, and plenty of fur skins to keep them warm.

The little girl grew big, and the old grandmother bossed them all. Grandmothers always do in Eskimo Land.

THE CROW AND THE OWL

Long ago, when crows were white, a crow and an owl sat on a log, talking together.

The crow said he did not like his color, and the owl said, “I wish I had some pretty spots on my back.”

“So do I,” said the crow. “Let us paint each other with black oil from the lamp.”

“To-whit, to-whoo,” said the owl. “What fun that would be!”

Now when a clay lamp gets old there is a lot of thick black oil in the bottom of it. The Eskimos make chewing-gum out of this oil.

The crow took one of the owl’s feathers, dipped it into the oil, and painted beautiful black spots all over the owl’s body. He did it very well and made the owl look fine.

Then came the owl’s turn to paint the crow. At first he liked to do it, and made such pretty round spots that the crow began to feel very proud indeed; but before he was half through, the owl got tired of working so hard; and taking the lamp, he turned it upside down, and poured the black oil all over the crow.

How angry that crow was when he found himself black all over! He tried his best to get it off, but it was no use. The black stuck fast.

Ever since then, the crow has been the blackest of all birds.

THE RUNNING STICK

Long ago, in the village of Na-ki-a-ki-a-mute, there lived a strong man, or chief, with his wife, to whom he was very devoted. They had no children, but among their neighbors was a little girl who lived in a tiny house with her grandmother. These two were very poor, but the chief was rich, and the chief’s wife loved the little girl and had her often with her. Indeed the child used to come every day to fetch water for the chief’s wife, from the water hole through the ice in the river nearby.

One day the man went off hunting, and when he came back with a fine fat seal for their food his wife was gone. He called and called her, but she did not answer. Then he went to all his neighbors seeking her, but no one had seen her, and no trace of her could he find anywhere. There was not even a footprint to show in which direction she had gone.

The poor man was nearly crazy with grief and anger, for he felt sure some one must have taken his wife away from him. He became fierce and sullen, brooding over his troubles and loneliness, and would speak to no one. In fact no one dared to come near him for fear of being killed.

All day long he would sit out in front of his house with his big bow and quiver full of arrows, watching; and at night he did not sleep, nor could he eat.

One day the old grandmother said to the little girl, “I am sorry for that poor man; he is so unhappy. You go to him and ask him to come and eat with us. His wife loved you. He will not hurt you. Try to bring him back with you.”

Very timidly the little girl obeyed, for in her heart she was afraid to go. When she got near the chief’s house she stopped and felt like turning back, for he sat there looking so fierce and gloomy that she was frightened; but when he saw the child standing there he motioned to her to come. Then she felt no longer afraid, but went and sat beside him, and told him what her grandmother had said. The chief answered nothing, but when she slipped her little hand in his, he got up and went with her to her home, where the old woman had already cooked him a fine supper of reindeer meat.

The poor man had not eaten for so long that he was starving, and when he had finished all the meat the old woman had, he sent the little girl to his own house to get some more.

As soon as the little one had gone out of the room, the grandmother said to him, “I sent for you because you have been kind to us, and I believe I can help you to find your wife. You must make a good strong staff of driftwood, then take this bunch of charms and tie it firmly to the stick,” and she gave him a little bunch of charms. These charms were ivory animals and faces and some tufts of feathers from sea birds.

Next she said that he must set the stick upright in the ground, in front of his house, very firmly, so that the wind could not blow it over. When he had done this he should go to bed and sleep. In the morning he must examine the stick carefully, and go in the direction in which the stick leaned. Wherever he stopped for the night he must set the stick up in the same way, and in the morning the stick would point in the direction he must follow to find his wife.

“If you obey my instructions,” said she, “the stick will lead you straight to your wife.”

Then the little girl came in with some more reindeer meat, and the man ate until he was satisfied, and went home.

As soon as he reached his house, he made a fine staff, tied the charms to it and planted it firmly in the ground before the door. Then he went in, and rolling himself up in a big bear skin, fell asleep.

He woke up in the morning feeling well rested, and more like himself than at any time since his wife’s disappearance. It was late and the sun had already risen. He hurried out anxiously to look at his stick. It was bent directly toward the North, so he pulled it up and started on his journey, with the staff moving along before him.

For two days and two nights he traveled without rest, having a hard time to keep up with that stick, which hopped along in front of him. Then, being tired, he stuck the staff into the ground and went to sleep.

When he woke, the stick was again pointing North. This time it leaned over more than before.

For three days and nights he traveled, then he slept, and in the morning his faithful staff was bending way over, still toward the North.

“Now my wife cannot be very far away,” he thought.

That night he slept again, and when he awoke, the staff had leaned so far over that the tip almost touched the ground; so he felt sure he must be near his journey’s end.

About noon, when the sun hung very round and very red, low down in the sky, he came to a huge snow house, the biggest house he had ever seen. Right by the house stood four posts close together, and on these posts was hung the skin of an enormous bird.

Hiding himself among some willow bushes, he watched to see what would happen.

Pretty soon a very tall man came out of the house and went to the posts. Climbing up on them, he took the skin, put it on, and flew away over the sea.

When the bird man was out of sight, our friend took his faithful staff and went into the house. There he found his wife, who was very happy to see him.

“I knew you would come and find me,” she said. “That terrible big bird carried me away in his claws; that is why you could not find my footprints in the snow.”

Her husband wanted her to come home with him at once, but she told him that it would be better if she could first see the bird man, who would come back soon again. Her plan was to send the bird man on some far distant fight, so that they might get away during his absence. She gave her husband some food, and he went back to his hiding-place to wait for the bird man to come and go.

After a short time the bird came back with a walrus in one claw and a seal in the other. Flying to the rack, he took off the bird skin, hung it up, and went into the house.

When he came in, he found the woman crying. “What do you want?” said he.

“I want a white whale and a hump-back whale. I didn’t want any seal. I am tired of seal and walrus meat. Boo-hoo!” and she howled and wailed dismally.

“Only be quiet,” said the bird man, “and I will get you what you want.” And he came out again and, putting on his bird skin, once more flew out over the sea.

When the bird was out of sight, the woman ran from the house to her husband, who put her on his back and started for home as fast as he could go. He was the swiftest runner in his village, and covered the ground pretty fast; but, after all, legs are not wings. It was not long before they met the bird man coming back with a whale in each of his talons. When he saw the man carrying the woman away on his back, the bird was very angry, and circled about in the air over their heads, calling out to them, “I shall kill you. First, however, I am going to take these two whales home, then I shall come back and kill you.” And away he flew.

The man ran as fast as he could, but just as they reached the banks of a big river the bird came in sight.

The man and his wife dug a cave in the river bank, and hid in it while the bird flew by looking for them. Nowhere could the big bird find those two people, although he was sure they must be hiding somewhere nearby. Suddenly he circled about, and flew down to the water. “I shall set my great wing across the river like a dam, and the water will rise and drown them,” cried he; so he stretched his great wing across the river and the water rose over the wing, and crept nearer and nearer to where the man and his wife were hidden.

The two poor people were in despair. They thought that surely they would be drowned, when suddenly the man remembered his father, who was a witch doctor, and some magic words came to his mind:

“Kluk-a-luk.
Muk-a-luk.
puk-a-luk.
Freeze up hard,
Or you must run dry.”

He said these words over three times aloud. At that moment the water of the river began to freeze. It was the month called “Naz-ze-rak-sek” by the Eskimos, which means October.

At last the river froze so hard and solid, that the bird’s wing was frozen fast into the ice and he could not pull it out. Then the husband killed the wicked bird, and plucking one of the long feathers from its wing for a charm, took his wife safely home without any further trouble.

They brought the old grandmother and the little girl to live with them, and they were all happy the whole winter long with the meat of the big bird for food.

THE TREACHEROUS CROW AND HIS COUSIN, THE MINK

Long ago, a crow and a mink lived together. The crow called the mink his cousin. They made a little cabin where there was a sand bar and willows. In summer time when the weather was fine they played together on the sand bar, which was bigger than any sand pile any children ever had.

One day they saw some dead salmon on the beach, and the tracks of a brown bear.

The crow said to the mink, his cousin, “What shall we do if that brown bear comes around here?”

The mink answered, “We cannot catch that bear. He is bigger and stronger than we are. He will kill us.”

Then the crow laughed, “Haw, haw! I know how to kill that bear; it is easy. Cousin, you will go inside the dead salmon, and I will put it in the bear’s track.”

“O no!” said the mink. “I am afraid. You go yourself into the salmon.”

But the crow was boss. “I do not wish to go into the salmon,” said he. “You go yourself. I am bigger than you, and I have wings. I will put you into the salmon, and I will put the salmon in the bear’s track, and don’t you move one bit, even if you are scared. I will tell you what to do. If the bear comes, keep very still. If he opens his mouth to bite, you just jump down his throat, and go in as far as you can. Bite him hard inside, and then he will drop dead.”

The mink was terribly afraid, but the crow said, “I will help you. When the bear drops dead, I will run out of my hiding-place, and cut a little door in his side with my knife, and you will jump out. If you do that, we will live well and have lots of meat to eat all winter.”

The poor mink looked very sad indeed, but did not dare to refuse to do what the crow told him.

“All right,” said the mink, “I will do it, but I know that I shall die.”

The crow went to work to prepare the big fish. He skinned it nicely, and when it was ready, put his cousin, the mink, inside of it, and laid it where the bear track was.

The mink was terribly frightened inside the salmon, because he knew the bear would eat him up. The crow hid among the willows and watched his cousin.

After a while the bear came around by the same track, looking for a fish to eat, and saw the salmon. First he sniffed at it, and noticed that it smelled a little different, but very good. Then he sniffed again, and, being very hungry, he opened his big mouth wide, and the mink popped right down his throat. Down he went, down as far as he could jump, biting hard all the time. The crow was watching from the willows, and pretty soon the bear danced around on his hind legs and fell to the ground. Quickly the crow flew to the bear, and with his little knife cut a door for the poor frightened mink to jump out of.

“See,” said the crow, “I told you it was easy to kill the big bear. Now we have killed him, we will have meat all winter, and will not have to go out to hunt in bad weather.”

The mink said nothing, but went to work to help the crow fix up the bear into fine steaks.

They dried the meat and hung it up, and there was enough to feed the whole village.

One night the crow said to the mink, “Cousin, once upon a time in the olden days people of one village used to invite the people of another village to come to a feast and dance. I should like to do that myself.”

“Why,” said the mink, “I have never heard of that before. I don’t know what that would be like, but I should love to see it.”

“We will do it,” said the crow. “We have plenty of fine bear meat for every one, and we will give a party. I will tell you what to do, Cousin, and tomorrow you will start, but you must do just what I tell you.”

Then they went to sleep, and early in the morning, the crow sent his cousin to the sea.

“You walk until you come to a village,” said he, “but don’t stop at that one; go right on until you come to a second village; pass that one also. When you come to the third village, stop, and the people will ask you where you come from. Say to them, ‘I come from a big village. We have a chief in our village, and he has sent me to invite you all to his big dance.’ If they ask you what kind of a chief you have, don’t tell them it is a crow, because if you tell them that, no one will come. Just say, ‘We have a fine chief.’”

When the crow had finished talking, the mink jumped on to the ice, and went toward the sea. He went on until he came to a village, but he did not stop at that one; he passed it as his cousin had told him to do, and went on again. Then he came to the second village, but he passed that one too, and at last came to the third village. Here he stopped, and the people were happy when he gave them his cousin’s invitation.

Everybody in the village wanted to go to the feast, and the next morning they all started off.

When they passed the first village, where the crow had told the mink not to stop, two people came out and asked if they might go also.

The mink said, “No, we do not want you.” But they came anyway.

Just before dark the mink got home to the crow. What was his surprise to see a fine village, where he had left only a cabin the day before; and a lot of people coming out to meet him and his guests.

The mink saw his crow cousin surrounded by a crowd of people, all dressed up in fine clothes, looking very fine indeed. The crow was so happy to see the mink coming with the people of the sea village that he started up a great shout. They all shouted loudly, and the crow, in his excitement, forgetting that he was a crow, tried to shout with them, but all he could say was “Caw, caw!”

The two people from the first village, who had not been invited, were watching very closely to see what sort of people these were who gave this great feast, and when they heard the crow shouting, “Caw, caw,” they called, “Look out, friends. We see that the chief of this village is a crow!”

Then the crow spoke up and said, “I am not a crow, people. Don’t be afraid. I promise you a good time. We will dance tonight only, then I will send you home.”

Before the dance they had some races. The marten came first, then the wolf, then the lynx. The Arctic hare came fourth, and fifth, the fox. The Arctic hare could have won first prize if he had wanted to, but he kept sitting down every minute. One of the people, a muskrat, had not come back from the race when the dance started, and when he came in all hot and tired the people laughed and made fun of him. That made him so angry that he was in a great temper, but the crow said, “Don’t you mind them; you are all right.” So he felt better about it.

Before the dance started, the crow stood up on top of the house, and called out, “People, I am going to do something fine for you. I am going to rub some oil on your eyes that will make you all see every animal when you go hunting. Last fall I killed a bear, and the oil is from that bear.”

At this the mink was in a terrible rage, because the crow did not tell them that it was he who had killed the bear, and he began to shout, “He lies, he lies! He did not kill the bear. I killed it myself.”

Well, the crow was so embarrassed and surprised when he heard his cousin say this that he fell right down from the top of the house where he had been standing.

The mink, too, was terribly sorry he had spoken so hastily, and he called out to the crow, “O dear Cousin, forgive me; I did not mean that. I was only jealous. People, listen to me. I did not kill the bear at all. My cousin told the truth. He really killed that bear.”

Then the crow was happy again, and flew back to his high perch, where he recovered his dignity.

Then the people began to ask about the oil, and all stepped up to the crow in turn, and he put it on their eyes.

The two people from that first village were watching the crow all the time, and suddenly one of them jumped up and began to shout, “Stop, people! Stop! He is putting glue on your eyes!”

There was great excitement, and the people tried to open their eyes, but could not, for their eyes were stuck together with glue.

All at once salt water began to pour into the house, and every one rushed to get out of the door, but their eyes were glued, so they could not see the hole to go out.

Now the crow took a big stick, and the mink one also, and all the crow’s people armed themselves with big sticks, and killed all the people the mink had gone to sea to invite, and who turned out to be seals after all.

Then the treacherous and tricky crow gave one of the seals to each of his own people and sent them home.

This is how the crow got the name of being the trickiest of all the birds, and no animal really likes him, because they know they cannot trust him.

GOOD AND BAD WEATHER

Long ago, on the shores of the Arctic Ocean, two Eskimo boys were walking from their own home to a far-away village. While they were going along, a terrible storm overtook them and they had to hold each other by the hand to keep from falling. Pretty soon the wind rose so high, and the snow fell so fast, they felt they could go no farther. In despair, they clung to each other, blinded by the snow, when a tremendous gust of wind suddenly caught them, and blew them against the side of a little snow house. How glad they were to find shelter!

Inside the house was an old woman, living all alone. She was very kind and invited them to sit down and rest; then she gave them something to eat, and told them that she was going out.

“Do not look after me to see what I am doing,” said she, “or you will be sorry.”

She put on her parka and mukluks, and took her stone skin scraper in her hand and went out the door.

The Eskimo women have a scraper which they use to scrape the flesh, or meat, from the skin of the animals they prepare for clothing. This scraper is somewhat the shape of a carpenter’s plane. The blade is made of a sharp piece of stone. That was the kind of thing the old woman took out with her.

The boys were devoured with curiosity, and after she had gone the oldest one said, “Let us go out and look at her.” But the younger boy whispered, “No, no.” He was afraid; but his brother was determined to see what that old woman was doing out there with her knife, so he persuaded the little one to creep softly to the door with him, and peek out.

Where do you think the old woman was? And what do you think she was doing? Way up in the sky she sat, scraping away at the clouds. She had already scraped off half the clouds, and where she had scraped, the sky was as blue, as blue as could be, but the other half was still covered with thick black clouds.

When she saw the two boys peeping at her, she let go of the sky and fell down. As she came into the house, the boys were sitting on the floor, just as she had left them, hoping she had not really seen them looking at her.

“You rascals! You bad boys!” she cried. “You did just what I told you not to do. If you had not looked out at me, and made me fall off, I would have cleaned all the clouds away, and we should never have had any more storms. But alas! I cannot go up there again, and now we shall have both clear and cloudy weather.”

Ever since then it has been sometimes clear and sometimes stormy, because the old woman had only had time to clean off one-half of the sky.

HOW THE WHITE WHALES HAPPENED

Long, long ago, on St. Lawrence Island, there lived with his grandmother a little blind orphan boy. He was so blind that he could not even see a ray of light.

The grandmother was a wicked old witch, and treated him very badly.

They were frightfully poor, and had to eat muskrats, for they had no one to go hunting food for them.

One day the old woman came in very much excited because she had seen a polar bear with two cubs. Now you must understand that the bear cubs are the baby bears, and are nice and round and plump and juicy and covered with white fluffy fur. The grandmother smacked her lips at the thought of those delicious little bears.

After grumbling about for a while, and scolding the boy because he could not see to go hunting, she handed him a strong bow made from driftwood and some fine arrows tipped with bone, and told him to go out and kill those bears.

“But, Grandmother,” said he, “how can I kill the bears when I cannot see to shoot them?”

“Come out and I will show you.” And she shoved him out of the house.

They sat down outside and waited for Mother Bear to come by with her babies.

The grandmother told the boy to hold the arrow pointed straight in front of him, and that she would tell him when to let it fly.

They waited a long time for the bears to come, and just as he was getting so tired he feared he would drop the heavy bow, who should come sauntering slowly along but Mother Bear and her two frisky babies. Just as they passed the very spot at which the blind boy was aiming, his grandmother whispered, “Shoot!” and he let fly the arrow. One by one he killed the three bears in this way.

Of course the poor little fellow could not see the bears at all and was not sure that he had killed them, but when he asked her the old witch would tell him nothing. She only scolded him and shoved him into the house.

Saying that she was going to gather sticks for the fire, she took her big knife, with a green jade blade and walrus ivory handle, and went out to skin the bears. Having carefully removed the skins, she hung the meat to dry in the cache, a sort of high drying-frame, where no wild animal could get at it.

When dinner time came the old grandmother feasted greedily on bear steak, but she gave only lean muskrats to the hungry little boy.

In the morning the little fellow crawled out on his hands and knees to search for willow weeds, which the Eskimos like to make tea from. They chew it too sometimes. He had to feel his way very carefully so as not to hurt himself, for of course he could see nothing.

While he was crawling along, reaching out with his hands for the willows, he heard something hopping lightly before him.

A little twittering voice said, “Good-morning, boy.”

“Who are you?” said the boy, and he stopped to listen.

“I am a snipe, and I can make your eyes see if you will let me.”