hands I slew him, who was a greater shaman than Skolka, our own
shaman. And each time I faced a man, I thought, ‘Now cometh Death; and
each time I slew the man, and Death came not. It seemed the breath of life
was strong in my nostrils and I could not die—”
“And we followed Lone Chief the length of the village and back again,”
continued Mutsak. “Like a pack of wolves we followed him, back and
forth, and here and there, till there were no more Mukumuks left to fight.
Then we gathered together five score men- slaves, and double as many
women, and countless children, and we set fire and burned all the houses
and lodges, and departed. And that was the last of the Mukumuks.”
“And that was the last of the Mukumuks,” Lone Chief repeated exultantly.
“And when we came to our own village, the people were amazed at our
burden of wealth and slaves, and in that I was still alive they were more
amazed. And my father, the Otter, came trembling with gladness at the
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things I had done. For he was an old man, and I the last of his sons. And
all the tried fighting men came, and the crafty and wise, till all the people
were gathered together. And then I arose, and with a voice like thunder,
commanded Skolka, the shaman, to stand forth—”
“Ay, O White Man,” exclaimed Mutsak. “With a voice like thunder, that
made the people shake at the knees and become afraid.’,
“And when Skolka had stood forth,” Lone Chief went on, “I said that I was
not minded to die. Also I said it were not well that disappointment come to
the evil spirits that wait beyond the grave. Wherefore I deemed it fit that
the soul of Skolka fare forth into the Unknown, where doubtless it would
howl forever in the dark and endless forest. And then I slew him, as he
stood there, in the face of all the people. Even I, Lone Chief, with my own
hands, slew Skolka, the shaman, in the face of all the people. And when a
murmuring arose, I cried aloud—”
“With a voice like thunder,” prompted Mutsak.
“Ay, with a voice like thunder I cried aloud: ‘Behold, O ye people! I am
Lone Chief, slayer of Skolka, the false shaman! Alone among men, have I
passed down through the gateway of Death and returned again. Mine eyes
have looked upon the unseen things. Mine ears have heard the unspoken
words. Greater am I than Skolka, the shaman. Greater than all shamans am
I. Likewise am I a greater chief than my father, the Otter. All his days did
he fight with the Mukumuks, and lo, in one day have I destroyed them all.
As with the breathing of a breath have I destroyed them. Wherefore, my
father, the Otter, being old, and Skolka, the shaman, being dead, I shall be
both chief and shaman. Henceforth shall I be both chief and shaman to
you, O my people. And if any man dispute my word, let that man stand
forth!’
“I waited, but no man stood forth. Then I cried: ‘Hoh! I have tasted blood!
Now bring meat, for I am hungry. Break open the caches, tear down the
fish-racks, and let the feast be big. Let there be merriment, and songs, not
of burial, but marriage. And last of all, let the girl Kasaan be brought. The
girl Kasaan, who is to be the mother of the children of Lone Chief!’
“And at my words, and because that he was very old, my father, the Otter,
wept like a woman, and put his arms about my knees. And from that day I
was both chief and shaman. And great honor was mine, and all men
yielded me obedience.”
“Until the steamboat came,” Mutsak prompted.
“Ay,” said Lone Chief. “Until the steamboat came.”
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74
KEESH, SON OF KEESH
(First published in Ainslee’s Magazine, Jan, 1902)
“THUS will I give six blankets, warm and double; six files, large and hard;
six Hudson Bay knives, keen-edged and long; two canoes, the work of
Mogum, The Maker of Things; ten dogs, heavy-shouldered and strong in
the harness; and three guns—the trigger of one be broken, but it is a good
gun and can doubtless be mended.”
Keesh paused and swept his eyes over the circle of intent faces. It was the
time of the Great Fishing, and he was bidding to Gnob for Su- Su his
daughter. The place was the St. George Mission by the Yukon, and the
tribes had gathered for many a hundred miles. From north, south, east, and
west they had come, even from Tozikakat and far Tana-naw.
“And further, O Gnob, thou art chief of the Tana-naw; and I, Keesh, the
son of Keesh, am chief of the Thlunget. Wherefore, when my seed springs
from the loins of thy daughter, there shall be a friendship between the
tribes, a great friendship, and Tana-naw and Thlunget shall be brothers of
the blood in the time to come. What I have said I will do, that will I do.
And how is it with you, O Gnob, in this matter?”
Gnob nodded his head gravely, his gnarled and age-twisted face
inscrutably masking the soul that dwelt behind. His narrow eyes burned
like twin coals through their narrow slits, as he piped in a high- cracked
voice, “But that is not all.”
“What more?” Keesh demanded. “Have I not offered full measure? Was
there ever yet a Tana-naw maiden who fetched so great a price? Then
name her! “An open snicker passed round the circle, and Keesh knew that
he stood in shame before these people.
“Nay, nay, good Keesh, thou cost not understand.” Gnob made a soft,
stroking gesture. “The price is fair. It is a good price. Nor do I question the
broken trigger. But that is not all. What of the man ?”
“Ay, what of the man ?” the circle snarled.
“It is said,” Gnob’s shrill voice piped, “it is said that Keesh does not walk
in the way of his fathers. It is said that he has wandered into the dark, after
strange gods, and that he is become afraid.”
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The face of Keesh went dark. “It is a lie!” he thundered. “Keesh is afraid
of no man !”
“It is said,” old Gnob piped on, “that he has harkened to the speech of the
white man up at the Big House, and that he bends head to the white man’s
god, and, moreover, that blood is displeasing to the white man’s god.”
Keesh dropped his eyes, and his hands clenched passionately. The savage
circle laughed derisively, and in the ear of Gnob whispered Madwan, the
shaman, high-priest of the tribe and maker of medicine.
The shaman poked among the shadows on the rim of the firelight and
roused up a slender young boy, whom he brought face to face with Keesh;
and in the hand of Keesh he thrust a knife.
Gnob leaned forward. “Keesh! O Keesh! Darest thou to kill a man?
Behold! This be Kitz-noo, a slave. Strike, O Keesh, strike with the
strength of thy arm!”
The boy trembled and waited the stroke. Keesh looked at him, and
thoughts of Mr. Brown’s higher morality floated through his mind, and
strong upon him was a vision of the leaping flames of Mr. Brown’s
particular brand of hell-fire. The knife fell to the ground, and the boy
sighed and went out beyond the firelight with shaking knees. At the feet of
Gnob sprawled a wolf-dog, which bared its gleaming teeth and prepared to
spring after the boy. But the shaman ground his foot into the brute’s body,
and so doing, gave Gnob an idea.
“And then, O Keesh, what wouldst thou do, should a man do this thing to
you?”—as he spoke, Gnob held a ribbon of salmon to White Fang, and
when the animal attempted to take it, smote him sharply on the nose with a
stick. “And afterward, O Keesh, wouldst thou do thus ?”—White Fang
was cringing back on his belly and fawning to the hand of Gnob.
“Listen!”—leaning on the arm of Madwan, Gnob had risen to his feet. “I
am very old, and because I am very old I will tell thee things. Thy father,
Keesh, was a mighty man. And he did love the song of the bowstring in
battle, and these eyes have beheld him cast a spear till the head stood out
beyond a man’s body. But thou art unlike. Since thou left the Raven to
worship the Wolf, thou art become afraid of blood, and thou makest thy
people afraid. This is not good. For behold, when I was a boy, even as
Kitz-noo there, there was no white man in all the land. But they came, one