Children of the Frost

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by Children Of The Frost (Pg) [Lit]


  close to the moose that a spear-cast would cover the distance. To-day we

  use the white man's rifle, and farther away than can a child's cry be heard.

  We ate fish and meat and berries—there was nothing else to eat—and we

  ate without salt. How many be there among you who care to go back to the

  fish and meat without salt ?"

  It would have sunk home, had not Madwan leaped to his feet ere silence

  could come. "And first a question to thee, Keesh. The white man up at the

  Big House tells you that it is wrong to kill. Yet do we not know that the

  white men kill? Have we forgotten the great fight on the Koyokuk? or the

  great fight at Nuklukyeto, where three white men killed twenty of the

  Tozikakats? Do you think we no longer remember the three men of the

  Tana-naw that the white man Macklewrath killed ? Tell me, O Keesh, why

  does the Shaman Brown teach you that it is wrong to fight, when all his

  brothers fight?"

  "Nay, nay, there is no need to answer," Gnob piped, while Keesh struggled

  with the paradox. "It is very simple. The Good Man Brown would hold the

  Raven tight whilst his brothers pluck the feathers." He raised his voice.

  "But so long as there is one Tana-naw to strike a blow, or one maiden to

  bear a man-child, the Raven shall not be plucked!"

  Gnob turned to a husky young man across the fire. "And what sayest thou,

  Makamuk, who art brother to Su-Su?"

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  Makamuk came to his feet. A long face-scar lifted his upper lip into a

  perpetual grin which belied the glowing ferocity of his eyes. "This day,"

  he began with cunning irrelevance, "I came by the Trader Macklewrath's

  cabin. And in the door I saw a child laughing at the sun. And the child

  looked at me with the Trader Macklewrath's eyes, and it was frightened.

  The mother ran to it and quieted it. The mother was Ziska, the Thlunget

  woman."

  A snarl of rage rose up and drowned his voice, which he stilled by turning

  dramatically upon Keesh with outstretched arm and accusing finger.

  "So? You give your women away, you Thlunget, and come to the Tananaw

  for more? But we have need of our women, Keesh; for we must breed

  men, many men, against the day when the Raven grapples with the Wolf."

  Through the storm of applause, Gnob's voice shrilled clear. "And thou,

  Nossabok, who art her favorite brother?"

  The young fellow was slender and graceful, with the strong aquiline nose

  and high brows of his type; but from some nervous affliction the lid of one

  eye drooped at odd times in a suggestive wink. Even as he arose it so

  drooped and rested a moment against his cheek. But it was not greeted

  with the accustomed laughter. Every face was grave. "I, too, passed by the

  Trader Macklewrath's cabin," he rippled in soft, girlish tones, wherein

  there was much of youth and much of his sister. "And I saw Indians with

  the sweat running into their eyes and their knees shaking with weariness—

  I say, I saw Indians groaning under the logs for the store which the Trader

  Macklewrath is to build. And with my eyes I saw them chopping wood to

  keep the Shaman Brown's Big House warm through the frost of the long

  nights. This be squaw work. Never shall the Tana-naw do the like. We

  shall be blood brothers to men, not squaws; and the Thlunget be squaws."

  A deep silence fell, and all eyes centred on Keesh. He looked about him

  carefully, deliberately, full into the face of each grown man. "So," he said

  passionlessly. And "So," he repeated. Then turned on his heel without

  further word and passed out into the darkness.

  Wading among sprawling babies and bristling wolf-dogs, he threaded the

  great camp, and on its outskirts came upon a woman at work by the light

  of a fire. With strings of bark stripped from the long roots of creeping

  vines, she was braiding rope for the Fishing. For some time, without

  speech, he watched her deft hands bringing law and order out of the unruly

  mass of curling fibres. She was good to look upon, swaying there to her

  task, strong-limbed, deep-cheated, and with hips made for motherhood.

  And the bronze of her face was golden in the flickering light, her hair

  blue-black, her eyes jet.

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  "O Su-Su," he spoke finally, "thou hast looked upon me kindly in the days

  that have gone and in the days yet young—"

  "I looked kindly upon thee for that thou wert chief of the Thlunget," she

  answered quickly, "and because thou wert big and strong."

  "Ay—"

  "But that was in the old days of the Fishing," she hastened to add, "before

  the Shaman Brown came and taught thee ill things and led thy feet on

  strange trails."

  "But I would tell thee the—"

  She held up one hand in a gesture which reminded him of her father.

  "Nay, I know already the speech that stirs in thy throat, O Keesh, and I

  make answer now. It so happeneth that the fish of the water and the beasts

  of the forest bring forth after their kind. And this is good. Likewise it

  happeneth to women. It is for them to bring forth their kind, and even the

  maiden, while she is yet a maiden, feels at the neck. And when such

  feeling is strong, then does each maiden look about her with secret eyes

  for the man—for the man who shall be fit to father her kind. So have I felt.

  So did I feel when I looked upon thee and found thee big and strong, a

  hunter and fighter of beasts and men, well able to win meat when I should

  eat for two, well able to keep danger afar off when my helplessness drew

  nigh. But that was before the day the Shaman Brown came into the land

  and taught thee—"

  "But it is not right, Su-Su. I have it on good word—"

  "It is not right to kill. I know what thou wouldst say. Then breed thou after

  thy kind, the kind that does not kill; but come not on such quest among the

  Tana-naw. For it is said in the time to come, that the Raven shall grapple

  with the Wolf. I do not know, for this be the affair of men; but I do know

  that it is for me to bring forth men against that time."

  "Su-Su," Keesh broke in, "thou must hear me—"

  "A man would beat me with a stick and make me hear," she sneered. "But

  thou . . . here!" She thrust a bunch of bark into his hand. "I cannot give

  thee myself, but this, yes. It looks fittest in thy hands. It is squaw work, so

  braid away."

  He flung it from him, the angry blood pounding a muddy path under his

  bronze.

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  "One thing more," she went on. "There be an old custom which thy father

  and mine were not strangers to. When a man falls in battle, his scalp is

  carried away in token. Very good. But thou, who have forsworn the

  Raven, must do more. Thou must bring me, not scalps, but heads' two

  heads, and then will I give thee, not bark, but a brave- beaded belt, and

  sheath, and long Russian knife. Then will I look kindly upon thee once

  again, and all will be well."

 
"So," the man pondered. "So." Then he turned and passed out through the

  light.

  "Nay, O Keesh!" she called after him. "Not two heads, but three at least!"

  But Keesh remained true to his conversion, lived uprightly, and made his

  tribespeople obey the gospel as propounded by the Rev. Jackson Brown.

  Through all the time of the Fishing he gave no heed to the Tana-naw, nor

  took notice of the sly things which were said, nor of the laughter of the

  women of the many tribes. After the Fishing, Gnob and his people, with

  great store of salmon, sun-dried and smoke-cured, departed for the

  Hunting on the head reaches of the Tana-naw. Keesh watched them go,

  but did not fail in his attendance at Mission service, where he prayed

  regularly and led the singing with his deep bass voice.

  The Rev. Jackson Brown delighted in that deep bass voice, and because of

  his sterling qualities deemed him the most promising convert.

  Macklewrath doubted this. He did not believe in the efficacy of the

  conversion of the heathen, and he was not slow in speaking his mind. But

  Mr. Brown was a large man, in his way, and he argued it out with such

  convincingness, all of one long fall night, that the trader, driven from

  position after position, finally announced in desperation, "Knock out my

  brains with apples, Brown, if I don't become a convert myself, if Keesh

  holds fast, true blue, for two years!" Mr. Brown never lost an opportunity,

  so he clinched the matter on the spot with a virile hand-grip, and

  thenceforth the conduct of Keesh was to determine the ultimate abidingplace

  of Macklewrath's soul.

  But there came news one day, after the winter's rime had settled down

  over the land sufficiently for travel. A Tana-naw man arrived at the St.

  George Mission in quest of ammunition and bringing information that Su-

  Su had set eyes on Nee-Koo, a nervy young hunter who had bid brilliantly

  for her by old Gnob's fire. It was at about this time that the Rev. Jackson

  Brown came upon Keesh by the wood-trail which leads down to the river.

  Keesh had his best dogs in the harness, and shoved under the sled-lashings

  was his largest and finest pair of snow-shoes.

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  "Where goest thou, O Keesh? Hunting?" Mr. Brown asked, falling into the

  Indian manner.

  Keesh looked him steadily in the eyes for a full minute, then started up his

  dogs. Then again, turning his deliberate gaze upon the missionary, he

  answered, "No; I go to hell."

  In an open space, striving to burrow into the snow as though for shelter

  from the appalling desolateness, huddled three dreary lodges. Ringed all

  about, a dozen paces away, was the sombre forest. Overhead there was no

  keen, blue sky of naked space, but a vague, misty curtain, pregnant with

  snow, which had drawn between. There was no wind, no sound, nothing

  but the snow and silence. Nor was there even the general stir of life about

  the camp; for the hunting party had run upon the flank of the caribou herd

  and the kill had been large. Thus, after the period of fasting had come the

  plenitude of feasting, and thus, in broad daylight, they slept heavily under

  their roofs of moosehide.

  By a fire, before one of the lodges, five pairs of snow-shoes stood on end

  in their element, and by the fire sat Su-Su. The hood of her squirrel-skin

  parka was about her hair, and well drawn up around her throat; but her

  hands were unmittened and nimbly at work with needle and sinew,

  completing the last fantastic design on a belt of leather faced with bright

  scarlet cloth. A dog, somewhere at the rear of one of the lodges, raised a

  short, sharp bark, then ceased as abruptly as it had begun. Once, her father,

  in the lodge at her back, gurgled and grunted in his sleep. "Bad dreams,"

  she smiled to herself. "He grows old, and that last joint was too much."

  She placed the last bead, knotted the sinew, and replenished the fire. Then,

  after gazing long into the flames, she lifted her head to the harsh crunchcrunch

  of a moccasined foot against the flinty snow granules. Keesh was

  at her side, bending slightly forward to a load which he bore upon his

  back. This was wrapped loosely in a soft- tanned moosehide, and he

  dropped it carelessly into the snow and sat down. They looked at each

  other long and without speech.

  "It is a far fetch, O Keesh," she said at last, "a far fetch from St. George

  Mission by the Yukon."

  "Ay," he made answer, absently, his eyes fixed keenly upon the belt and

  taking note of its girth. "But where is the knife?" he demanded.

  "Here." She drew it from inside her parka and flashed its naked length in

  the firelight. "It is a good knife."

  "Give it me ! " he commanded.

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  "Nay, O Keesh," she laughed. "It may be that thou west not born to wear

  it. "

  "Give it me!" he reiterated, without change of tone. "I was so born."

  But her eyes, glancing coquettishly past him to the moosehide, saw the

  snow about it slowly reddening. "It is blood, Keesh?" she asked.

  "Ay, it is blood. But give me the belt and the long Russian knife."

  She felt suddenly afraid, but thrilled when he took the belt roughly from

  her, thrilled to the roughness. She looked at him softly, and was aware of a

  pain at the breast and of small hands clutching her throat.

  "It was made for a smaller man," he remarked grimly, drawing in his

  abdomen and clasping the buckle at the first hole.

  Su-Su smiled, and her eyes were yet softer. Again she felt the soft hands at

  her throat. He was good to look upon, and the belt was indeed small, made

  for a smaller man: but what did it matter? She could make many belts.

  "But the blood?" she asked, urged on by a hope new-born

  "The blood, Keesh? Is it . . . are they . . . heads?"

  "Ay."

  "They must be very fresh, else would the blood be frozen."

  "Ay, it is not cold, and they be fresh, quite fresh."

  "Oh. Keesh!" Her face was warm and bright "And for me?"

  "Ay; for thee."

  He took hold of a corner of the hide, flirted it open, and rolled the heads

  out before her.

  "Three," he whispered savagely; "nay, four at least."

  But she sat transfixed. There they lay—the soft-featured Nee- Koo; the

  gnarled old face of Gnob; Makamuk, grinning at her with his lifted upper

  lip; and lastly, Nossabok, his eyelid, up to its old trick, drooped on his

  girlish cheek in a suggestive wink. There they lay, the firelight flashing

  upon and playing over them, and from each of them a widening circle

  dyed the snow to scarlet.

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  Thawed by the fire, the white crust gave way beneath the head of Gnob,

  which rolled over like a thing alive, spun around, and came to rest at her

  feet. But she did not move. Keesh, too, sat motionless, his eyes

  unblinking, centred steadfastly upon her.

  Once, in the forest, an overburdened pine dropped its load of snow, an
d

  the echoes reverberated hollowly down the gorge; but neither stirred.

  The short day had been waning fast, and darkness was wrapping round the

  camp when White Fang trotted up toward the fire. He paused to

  reconnoitre, but not being driven back, came closer. His nose shot swiftly

  to the side, nostrils a-tremble and bristles rising along the spine; and

  straight and true, he followed the sudden scent to his master's head. He

  sniffed it gingerly at first and licked the forehead with his red lolling

  tongue. Then he sat abruptly down, pointed his nose up at the first faint

  star, and raised the long wolf- howl.

  This brought Su-Su to herself. She glanced across at Keesh, who had

  unsheathed the Russian knife and was watching her intently. His face was

  firm and set, and in it she read the law. Slipping back the hood of her

  parka, she bared her neck and rose to her feet. There she paused and took a

  long look about her, at the rimming forest, at the faint stars in the sky, at

  the camp, at the snow-shoes in the snow—a last long comprehensive look

  at life. A light breeze stirred her hair from the side, and for the space of

  one deep breath she turned her head and followed it around until she met it

  full-faced.

  Then she thought of her children, ever to be unborn, and she walked over

  to Keesh and said, "I am ready."

  THE DEATH OF LIGOUN

  (First published in Children of the Frost, 1902)

  Blood for blood, rank for rank. —Thlinket Code

  "HEAR now the death of Ligoun—"

  The speaker ceased, or rather suspended utterance, and gazed upon me

  with an eye of understanding. I held the bottle between our eyes and the

  fire, indicated with my thumb the depth of the draught, and shoved it over

  to him; for was he not Palitlum, the Drinker? Many tales had he told me,

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  83

  and long had I waited for this scriptless scribe to speak of the things

  concerning Ligoun; for he, of all men living, knew these things best.

  He tilted back his head with a grunt that slid swiftly into a gurgle, and the

  shadow of a man's torso, monstrous beneath a huge inverted bottle,

  wavered and danced on the frown of the cliff at our backs. Palitlum

  released his lips from the glass with a caressing suck and glanced

  regretfully up into the ghostly vault of the sky where played the wan white

 

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