the sky, nor see the land under the sun where there is no snow.”
“Wherefore,” old Ebbits said with grave dignity, “there be no one
to hunt meat for me in my old age, and I sit hungry by my fire and
tell my story to the White Man who has given me grub, and strong
tea, and tobacco for my pipe.”
“Because of the lying and very miserable white people,” Zilla
proclaimed shrilly.
“Nay,” answered the old man with gentle positiveness. “Because of
the way of the white man, which is without understanding and never
twice the same.”
THE STORY OF KEESH
KEESH lived long ago on the rim of the polar sea, was head man of
his village through many and prosperous years, and died full of
honors with his name on the lips of men. So long ago did he live
that only the old men remember his name, his name and the tale,
which they got from the old men before them, and which the old men
to come will tell to their children and their children’s children
LOVE OF LIFE AND OTHER STORIES
40
down to the end of time. And the winter darkness, when the north
gales make their long sweep across the ice-pack, and the air is
filled with flying white, and no man may venture forth, is the
chosen time for the telling of how Keesh, from the poorest IGLOO in
the village, rose to power and place over them all.
He was a bright boy, so the tale runs, healthy and strong, and he
had seen thirteen suns, in their way of reckoning time. For each
winter the sun leaves the land in darkness, and the next year a new
sun returns so that they may be warm again and look upon one
another’s faces. The father of Keesh had been a very brave man,
but he had met his death in a time of famine, when he sought to
save the lives of his people by taking the life of a great polar
bear. In his eagerness he came to close grapples with the bear,
and his bones were crushed; but the bear had much meat on him and
the people were saved. Keesh was his only son, and after that
Keesh lived alone with his mother. But the people are prone to
forget, and they forgot the deed of his father; and he being but a
boy, and his mother only a woman, they, too, were swiftly
forgotten, and ere long came to live in the meanest of all the
IGLOOS.
It was at a council, one night, in the big IGLOO of Klosh-Kwan, the
chief, that Keesh showed the blood that ran in his veins and the
manhood that stiffened his back. With the dignity of an elder, he
rose to his feet, and waited for silence amid the babble of voices.
“It is true that meat be apportioned me and mine,” he said. “But
it is ofttimes old and tough, this meat, and, moreover, it has an
unusual quantity of bones.”
The hunters, grizzled and gray, and lusty and young, were aghast.
The like had never been known before. A child, that talked like a
grown man, and said harsh things to their very faces!
But steadily and with seriousness, Keesh went on. “For that I know
my father, Bok, was a great hunter, I speak these words. It is
said that Bok brought home more meat than any of the two best
hunters, that with his own hands he attended to the division of it,
that with his own eyes he saw to it that the least old woman and
the last old man received fair share.”
“Na! Na!” the men cried. “Put the child out!” “Send him off to
bed!” “He is no man that he should talk to men and graybeards!”
He waited calmly till the uproar died down.
“Thou hast a wife, Ugh-Gluk,” he said, “and for her dost thou
speak. And thou, too, Massuk, a mother also, and for them dost
thou speak. My mother has no one, save me; wherefore I speak. As
I say, though Bok be dead because he hunted over-keenly, it is just
that I, who am his son, and that Ikeega, who is my mother and was
his wife, should have meat in plenty so long as there be meat in
plenty in the tribe. I, Keesh, the son of Bok, have spoken.”
He sat down, his ears keenly alert to the flood of protest and
indignation his words had created.
LOVE OF LIFE AND OTHER STORIES
41
“That a boy should speak in council!” old Ugh-Gluk was mumbling.
“Shall the babes in arms tell us men the things we shall do?”
Massuk demanded in a loud voice. “Am I a man that I should be made
a mock by every child that cries for meat?”
The anger boiled a white heat. They ordered him to bed, threatened
that he should have no meat at all, and promised him sore beatings
for his presumption. Keesh’s eyes began to flash, and the blood to
pound darkly under his skin. In the midst of the abuse he sprang
to his feet.
“Hear me, ye men!” he cried. “Never shall I speak in the council
again, never again till the men come to me and say, ‘It is well,
Keesh, that thou shouldst speak, it is well and it is our wish.’
Take this now, ye men, for my last word. Bok, my father, was a
great hunter. I, too, his son, shall go and hunt the meat that I
eat. And be it known, now, that the division of that which I kill
shall be fair. And no widow nor weak one shall cry in the night
because there is no meat, when the strong men are groaning in great
pain for that they have eaten overmuch. And in the days to come
there shall be shame upon the strong men who have eaten overmuch.
I, Keesh, have said it!”
Jeers and scornful laughter followed him out of the IGLOO, but his
jaw was set and he went his way, looking neither to right nor left.
The next day he went forth along the shore-line where the ice and
the land met together. Those who saw him go noted that he carried
his bow, with a goodly supply of bone-barbed arrows, and that
across his shoulder was his father’s big hunting-spear. And there
was laughter, and much talk, at the event. It was an unprecedented
occurrence. Never did boys of his tender age go forth to hunt,
much less to hunt alone. Also were there shaking of heads and
prophetic mutterings, and the women looked pityingly at Ikeega, and
her face was grave and sad.
“He will be back ere long,” they said cheeringly.
“Let him go; it will teach him a lesson,” the hunters said. “And
he will come back shortly, and he will be meek and soft of speech
in the days to follow.”
But a day passed, and a second, and on the third a wild gale blew,
and there was no Keesh. Ikeega tore her hair and put soot of the
seal-oil on her face in token of her grief; and the women assailed
the men with bitter words in that they had mistreated the boy and
sent him to his death; and the men made no answer, preparing to go
in search of the body when the storm abated.
Early next morning, however, Keesh strode into the village. But he
came not shamefacedly. Across his shoulders he bore a burden of
fresh-killed meat. And there was importance in his step and
arrogance in his speech.
“Go, ye men, with the dogs and sledges, and take my trail for the
LOVE OF LIFE AND OTHER STORIES
42
better part of a day’s travel,” he said. “There is much meat on
the ice – a she-bear and two half-grown cubs.”
Ikeega was overcome with joy, but he received her demonstrations in
manlike fashion, saying: “Come, Ikeega, let us eat. And after
that I shall sleep, for I am weary.”
And he passed into their IGLOO and ate profoundly, and after that
slept for twenty running hours.
There was much doubt at first, much doubt and discussion. The
killing of a polar bear is very dangerous, but thrice dangerous is
it, and three times thrice, to kill a mother bear with her cubs.
The men could not bring themselves to believe that the boy Keesh,
single-handed, had accomplished so great a marvel. But the women
spoke of the fresh-killed meat he had brought on his back, and this
was an overwhelming argument against their unbelief. So they
finally departed, grumbling greatly that in all probability, if the
thing were so, he had neglected to cut up the carcasses. Now in
the north it is very necessary that this should be done as soon as
a kill is made. If not, the meat freezes so solidly as to turn the