CHILDREN OF THE FROST (1902)
By Jack London
Contents:
· In the Forests of the
North
· The Law of Life
· Nam-Bok the
Unveracious
· The Master of Mystery
· The Sunlanders
· The Sickness of Lone
Chief
· Keesh, Son of Keesh
· The Death of Ligoun
· Li-Wan, the Fair
· The League of Old Men
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IN THE FORESTS OF THE NORTH
(First published in Pearson’s Magazine, Sept, 1902)
A WEARY journey beyond the last scrub timber and straggling copses,
into the heart of the Barrens where the niggard North is supposed to deny
the Earth, are to be found great sweeps of forests and stretches of smiling
land. But this the world is just beginning to know. The world’s explorers
have known it, from time to time, but hitherto they have never returned to
tell the world.
The Barrens-well, they are the Barrens, the bad lands of the Arctic, the
deserts of the Circle, the bleak and bitter home of the musk-ox and the
lean plains wolf. So Avery Van Brunt found them, treeless and cheerless,
sparsely clothed with moss and lichens, and altogether uninviting. At least
so he found them till he penetrated to the white blank spaces on the map,
and came upon undreamed-of rich spruce forests and unrecorded Eskimo
tribes. It had been his intention, (and his bid for fame), to break up these
white blank spaces and diversify them with the black markings of
mountain-chains, sinks and basins, and sinuous river courses; and it was
with added delight that he came to speculate upon the possibilities of
timber belts and native villages.
Avery Van Brunt, or, in full distinction, Professor A. Van Brunt of the
Geological Survey, was second in command of the expedition, and first in
command of the sub-expedition which he had led on a side tour of some
half a thousand miles up one of the branches of the Thelon and which he
was now leading into one of his unrecorded villages. At his back plodded
eight men, two of them French- Canadian voyageurs, and the remainder
strapping Crees from Manitoba-way. He, alone, was fullblooded Saxon,
and his blood was pounding fiercely through his veins to the traditions of
his race. Clive and Hastings, Drake and Raleigh, Hengest and Horsa,
walked with him. First of all men of his breed was he to enter this lone
Northland village, and at the thought an exultancy came upon him, an
exaltation, and his followers noted that his leg-weariness fell from him and
that he insensibly quickened the pace.
The village emptied itself, and a motley crowd trooped out to meet him,
men in the forefront, with bows and spears clutched menacingly, and
women and children faltering timidly in the rear. Van Brunt lifted his right
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4
arm and made the universal peace sign, a sign which all peoples know,
and the villagers answered in peace. But to his chagrin, a skinclad man ran
forward and thrust out his hand with a familiar “Hello.” He was a bearded
man, with cheeks and brow bronzed to copper-brown, and in him Van
Brunt knew his kind.
“Who are you?” he asked, gripping the extended hand. “Andree?”
“Who’s Andree?” the man asked back.
Van Brunt looked at him more sharply. “By George, you’ve been here
some time.”
“Five years,” the man answered, a dim flicker of pride in his eyes. “But
come on, let’s talk.”
“Let them camp alongside of me,” he answered Van Brunt’s glance at his
party. “Old Tantlatch will take care of them. Come on.”
He swung off in a long stride, Van Brunt following at his heels through
the village. In irregular fashion, wherever the ground favored, the lodges
of moose hide were pitched. Van Brunt ran his practicedeye over them and
calculated.
“Two hundred, not counting the young ones,” he summed up.
The man nodded. “Pretty close to it. But here’s where I live, out of the
thick of it, you know-more privacy and all that. Sit down. I’ll eat with you
when your men get something cooked up. I’ve forgotten what tea tastes
like…. Five years and never a taste or smell…. Any tobacco? . . . A-h,
thanks, and a pipe? Good. Now for a fire-stick and we’ll see if the weed
has lost its cunning.”
He scratched the match with the painstaking care of the woodsman,
cherished its young flame as though there were never another in all the
world, and drew in the first mouthful of smoke. This he retained
meditatively for a time, and blew out through his pursed lips slowly and
caressingly. Then his face seemed to soften as he leaned back, and a soft
blur to film his eyes. He sighed heavily, happily, with immeasurable
content, and then said suddenly:
“God! But that tastes good!”
Van Brunt nodded sympathetically. “Five years, you say?”
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“Five years.” The man sighed again. “And you, I presume, wish to know
about it, being naturally curious, and this a sufficiently strange situation,
and all that. But it’s not much. I came in from Edmonton after musk-ox,
and like Pike and the rest of them, had my mischances, only I lost my
party and outfit. Starvation, hardship, the regular tale, you know, sole
survivor and all that, till I crawled into Tantlatch’s, here, on hand and
knee.”
“Five years,” Van Brunt murmured retrospectively, as though turning
things over in his mind.
“Five years on February last. I crossed the Great Slave early in May-”
“And you are . . . Fairfax?” Van Brunt interjected.
The man nodded.
“Let me see . . . John, I think it is, John Fairfax.”
“How did you know?” Fairfax queried lazily, half-absorbed in curling
smoke-spirals upward in the quiet air.
“The papers were full of it at the time. Prevanche-”
“Prevanche!” Fairfax sat up, suddenly alert. “He was lost in the Smoke
Mountains.”
“Yes, but he pulled through and came out.”
Fairfax settled back again and resumed his smoke-spirals. “I am glad to
hear it,” he remarked reflectively. “Prevanche was a bully fellow if he i did
have ideas about head-straps, the beggar. And he pulled through? Well,
I’m glad. ”
Five years . . . the phrase drifted recurrently through Van Brunt’s thought,
and somehow the face of Emily Southwaithe seemed to rise up and take
form before him. Five years . . . A wedge of wild-fowl honked low
overhead and at sight of the encampment veered swiftly to the north into
the smouldering sun. Van Brunt could not follow them He pulled out his
watch. It was an hour past midnight. The northward clouds flushed
bloodily, and rays of sombre-red shot southward, firing the gloomy woods
with a lurid radiance. The air was in breathless calm, not a needle
quivered, and the least sounds of the camp were distinct and clear as
trumpet calls. The Crees and voyageurs felt the spirit of it and mumbled in
dreamy undertones, and the cook unconsciously subdued the clatter of pot
and pan. Somewhere a child was crying, and from the depths of the forest,
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like a silver thread, rose a woman’s voice in mournful chant: “O-o-o-o-oo-
a-haa-ha-a-ha-aa-a-a, O-o-o-o-oo-a-ha-a-ha-a.”
Van Brunt shivered and rubbed the backs of his hands briskly.
“And they gave me up for dead?” his companion asked slowly.
“Well, you never came back, so your friends—”
“Promptly forgot.” Fairfax laughed harshly, defiantly.
“Why didn’t you come out?”
“Partly disinclination, I suppose, and partly because of circumstances over
which I had no control. You see, Tantlatch, here, was down with a broken
leg when I made his acquaintance,—a nasty fracture,—and I set it for him
and got him into shape. I stayed some time, getting my strength back. I
was the first white man he had seen, and of course I seemed very wise and
showed his people no end of things. Coached them up in military tactics,
among other things, so that they conquered the four other tribal villages,
(which you have not yet seen), and came to rule the land. And they
naturally grew to think a good deal of me, so much so that when I was
ready to go they wouldn’t hear of it. Were most hospitable, in fact. Put a
couple of guards over me and watched me day and night. And then
Tantlatch offered me inducements,—in a sense, inducements,—so to say,
and as it didn’t matter much one way or the other, I reconciled myself to
remaining.”
“I knew your brother at Freiburg. I am Van Brunt.”
Fairfax reached forward impulsively and shook his hand. “You were
Billy’s friend, eh ? Poor Billy ! He spoke of you often. ”
“Rum meeting place, though,” he added, casting an embracing glance over
the primordial landscape and listening for a moment to the woman’s
mournful notes. “Her man was clawed by a bear, and she’s taking it hard.”
“Beastly life!” Van Brunt grimaced his disgust. “I suppose, after five years