"It's just this way, son," Mr. Strong explained to him. "I'm here in government employ, taking government pay to do government work. I must do it and do it well in the shortest time possible. You will have a far better time on the island with Kalitan than you could possibly have loafing around the camp here. You couldn't go to many places where I am going, and, if my mind is easy about you, I can take Chetwoof and do my work in half the time. I'll come to the island in three or four weeks, and we'll take a week's vacation together, and then we'll hit the trail for the gold-fields. Are you satisfied with this arrangement?"

"Yes, sir." Ted's tone was dubious, but his face soon cleared up. "A month won't be very long, father."

"No, I'll wager you'll be sorry to leave when I come for you. Try and not make any trouble. Of course Indian ways are not ours, but you'll get used to it all and enjoy it. It's a chance most boys would be crazy over, and you'll have tales to tell when you get home to make your playmates envy you. I'm glad I have a son I can trust to keep straight when he is out of my sight," and he laid his hand affectionately on the boy's shoulder. Ted looked his father squarely in the eye, but gave only a little nod in answer, then he laughed his clear, ringing laugh.

"Wouldn't mother have spasms!" he exclaimed. Mr. Strong laughed too, but said:

"You'll be just as well off tumbling around with Kalitan as falling off a glacier or two, as you would be certain to do if you were with me."

Teddy felt a little blue when he said good-bye to his father, but Kalitan quickly dispelled his gloom by a great piece of news. "Great time on island," he said, as the canoe glided toward the dim outline of land to which Ted's thoughts had so often turned. "Tyee's whale came ash.o.r.e. We go to see him cut up."

"Hurrah!" cried Ted, delighted. "To think I shall see all that! What else will we do, Kalitan?"

"Hunt, fish, hear old Kala-kash stories. See berry dance if you stay long enough, perhaps a potlatch; do many things," said the Indian.

One of the Indian paddlers said something to Kalitan, and he laughed a little, and Ted asked, curiously: "What did he say?"

"Said Kalitan Tenas learned to talk as much as a Boston boy," said Kalitan, laughing heartily, and Ted laughed, too.

The canoes were nearing the sh.o.r.e of a wooded island, and Ted saw a fringe of trees and some native houses cl.u.s.tered picturesquely against them at the crest of a small hill which sloped down to the water's edge where stood a group of people awaiting the canoes.

"My home," said Kalitan, pointing to the largest house, "my people."

There was a great deal of pride in his tone and look, and he received a warm welcome as the canoes touched land and their occupants sprang on sh.o.r.e. The boys crowded around the young Indian and chattered and gesticulated toward Ted, while a bright-looking little Malamute sprang upon Kalitan and nearly knocked him down, covering his face with eager puppy kisses.

The girls were less boisterous, and regarded Teddy with shy curiosity.

Some of them were quite pretty, and the babies were as cunning as the puppies. They barked every time the dogs did, in a funny, hoa.r.s.e little way, and, indeed, Alaskan babies learn to bark long before they learn to talk.

The Tyee's wife received Teddy kindly, and he soon found himself quite at home among these hospitable people, who seemed always friendly and natural. Nearly all spoke some English, and he rapidly added to his store of Chinook, so that he had no trouble in making himself understood or in understanding. Of course he missed his father, but he had little time to be lonely. Life in the village was anything but uneventful.

At first there was the whale to be attended to, and all the village turned out for that. The huge creature had drifted ash.o.r.e on the farther side of the island, and Ted was much interested in seeing him gradually disposed of. Great ma.s.ses of blubber were stripped from the sides to be used later both for food and fuel, the whalebone was carefully secured to be sold to the traders, and it seemed to Ted that there was not one thing in that vast carca.s.s for which the Indians did not have some use.

Ted soon tired of watching the many things done with the whale, but there was plenty to do and see in the village. The village houses were all alike. There was one large room in which the people cooked, ate, and slept. The girls had blankets strung across one corner, behind which were their beds. Teddy was given one also for his corner of the great room in the Tyee's house.

He learned to eat the food and to like it very much. There was dried fish, herons' eggs, berries, or those put up in seal oil, which is obtained by frying the fat out of the blubber of the seal. The Alaskans use this oil in nearly all their cooking, and are very fond of it. Ted ate also dried seaweed, chopped and boiled in seal oil, which tasted very much like boiled and salted leather, but he liked it very well. Indeed he grew so strong and well, out-of-doors all day in the clear air and bright sunshine of the Alaskan June, that he could eat anything and tramp all day without being too tired to sleep like a top all night, and wake ready for a new day with a zest he never felt at home.

Fresh fish were plentiful. The boys caught salmon, smelts, and whitefish, and many were dried for the coming winter, while clams, gum-boots, sea-cuc.u.mbers, and devil-fish, found on the rocks of the sh.o.r.e, were every-day diet.

Kalitan's sister and Ted became great friends. She was older than Kalitan, and, though only fifteen, was soon to be married to Tah-ge-ah, a fine young Indian who was ready to pay high for her, which was not strange, for she was both pretty and sweet.

"At the next full moon," said Kalitan, "there will be a potlatch, and Tanana will be sold to Tah-ge-ah. He says he will give four hundred blankets for her, and my uncle is well pleased. Many only pay ten blankets for a wife, but of course we would not sell my sister for that.

She is of high caste, chief's daughter, niece, and sister," the boy spoke proudly, and Ted answered:

"She's so pretty, too. She's not like the Indian girls I saw at Wrangel and Juneau. Why, there the women sat around as dirty as dogs on the sidewalk, and didn't seem to care how they looked. They had baskets to sell, and were too lazy to care whether any one bought them or not. They weren't a bit like Tanana. She's as pretty as a j.a.panese."

Kalitan smiled, well pleased, and Ted added, "I guess the Thlinkits must be the best Indians in Alaska."

Kalitan laughed outright at this.

"Thlinkits pretty good," he said. "Tanana good girl. She learned much good at the mission school, marry Tah-ge-ah, and make people better. She can weave blankets, make fine baskets, and keep house like a white girl."

"She's all right," said Ted. "But, Kalitan, what is a potlatch?"

"Potlatch is a good-will feast," said his friend, "Very fine thing, but white men do not like. Say Indian feasts are all bad. Why is it bad when an Indian gives away all his goods for others? That is what a great potlatch is. When white men give us whiskey and it is drunk too much, then it is very bad. But Tyee will not have that for Tanana's feast. We will drink only qua.s.s[8], as my people made it before they learned evil drinks and fire-water, which make them crazy."

[Footnote 8: Qua.s.s is a native drink, harmless and acid, made with rye and water fermented. The bad Indians mix it with sugar, flour, dried apples, and hops, and make a terribly intoxicating drink.]

"I guess Tyee Klake was right when he said all men were alike," said Ted, sagely. "It seems to me that there are good and bad ones in all countries. It's a pity you have had such bad white ones here in Alaska, but I guess you have had good ones, too."

"Plenty good, plenty bad, Thlinkit men and Boston men," said Kalitan, "all same."

CHAPTER VII

TWILIGHT TALES AND TOTEMS

"Once a small girl child went by night to bring water. In the skies above she saw the Moon shining brightly, pale and placid, and she put forth her tongue at it, which was an evil thing, for the Moon is old, and a Thlinkit child should show respect for age. So the Moon would not endure so rude a thing from a girl child, and it came down from the sky and took her thither. She cried out in fear and caught at the long gra.s.s to keep herself from going up, but the Moon was strong and took her with her water-bucket and her bunch of gra.s.s, and she never came back. Her mother wept for her, but her father said: 'Cease. We have other girl children; she is now wedded to the Moon; to him we need not give a potlatch.'

"You may see her still, if you will look at the Moon, there, gra.s.s in one hand, bucket in the other, and when the new Moon tips to one side and the water spills from the clouds and it is the months of rain, it is the bad Moon maiden tipping over her water-bucket upon the earth. No Thlinkit child would dare ever to put her tongue forth at the Moon, for fear of a like fate to that of Squiance, the Moon maiden."

Tanana's voice was soft and low and she looked very pretty as she sat in the moonlight at the door of the hut and told Kalitan and Ted quaint old stories. Ted was delighted with her tales, and begged for another and yet another, and Tanana told the quaint story of Kagamil.

"A mighty _toyon_[9] dwelt on the island of Kagamil. By name he was Kat-haya-koochat, and he was of great strength and much to be feared. He had long had a death feud with people of the next totem, but the bold warrior Yakaga, chieftain of the tribe, married the toyon's daughter, and there was no more feud. Zampa was the son of Kat-haya-koochat, and his pride. He built for this son a fine _bidarka_,[10] and the boy launched it on the sea. His father watched him sail and called him to return, lest evil befall. But Zampa heard not his father's voice and pursued diving birds,[11] and, lo! he was far from land and the dark fell. He sailed to the nearest sh.o.r.e and beheld the village of Yakaga, where the people of his sister's husband made him welcome, though Yakaga was not within his hut. There was feasting and merry-making, and, according to their custom, he, the stranger, was given a chieftain's daughter to wife, and her name was Kitt-a-youx; and Zampa loved her and she him, and he returned not home. But Kitt-a-youx's father liked him not, and treated him with rudeness because of the old enmity with his Tyee father, so Zampa said to Kitt-a-youx: 'Let us go hence. We cannot be happy here. Let us go from your father, who is unfriendly to me, and seek the _barrabora_ of my father, the mighty chief, that happiness may come upon us,' and Kitt-a-youx said: 'What my lord says is well.'

[Footnote 9: Chieftain.]

[Footnote 10: Canoe.]

[Footnote 11: Ducks.]

"Then Zampa placed her in his canoe, and alone beneath the stars they sailed and it was well, and Zampa's arm was strong at his paddle. But, lo! they heard another paddle, and one came after them, and soon arrows flew about them, arrows swift and cruel, and one struck his paddle from his hand and his canoe was overturned. The pursuer came and placed Kitt-a-youx in his canoe, seeking, too, for Zampa, but, alas! Zampa was drowned. And when his pursuer dragged his body to the surface, he gave a mighty cry, for, lo! it was his brother-in-law whom he had pursued, for he was Yakaga. Then fearing the terrible rage of Zampa's father, he dared not return with the body, so he left it with the overturned canoe in the kelp and weeds. Kitt-a-youx he bore with him to his own island. There she was sad as the sea-gull's scream, for the lord she loved was dead. And her father gave her to another _toyon_, who was cruel to her, and her life was as a slave's, and she loathed her life until Zampa's child was born to her, and for it she lived. Alas, it was a girl child and her husband hated it, and Kitt-a-youx saw nothing for it but to be sold as a slave as was she herself. And she looked by day and by night at the sea, and its cold, cold waves seemed warmer to her than the arms of men. 'With my girl child I shall go hence,' she whispered to herself, 'and the Great Unknown Spirit will be kind.'

"So by night she stole away in a canoe and steered to sea, ere she knew where she was, reaching the seaweeds where she had journeyed with her young husband. The morning broke, and she saw the weeds and the kelp where her lover had gone from her sight, and, with a glad sigh, she clasped Zampa's child to her breast and sank down among the weeds where he had died. So her tired spirit was at rest, for a woman is happier who dies with him she loves.

"Now Zampa's father had found his boy's body and mourned over it, and buried it in a mighty cave, the which he had once made for his furs and stores. With it he placed bows and arrows and many valuables in respect for the dead. And Zampa's sister, going to his funeral feast, fell upon a stone with her child, so that both were killed. Then broke the old chief's heart. Beside her brother he laid her in the cave, and gave orders that he himself should be placed there as well, when grief should have made way with him. Then he died of sorrow for his children, and his people interred him in his burial cave, and with him they put much wealth and blankets and weapons.

"When, therefore, the people of his tribe found the bodies of Kitt-a-youx and her child among the kelp, having heard of her love for Zampa, they bore them to the same cave, and, wrapping them in furs, they placed Kitt-a-youx beside her beloved husband, and in her burial she found her home and felt the kindness of the Great Spirit. This, then, is the story of the burial cave of Kagamil, and since that day no man dwelt upon the island, and it is known as the 'island of the dead.'"

"I'd like to see it, I can tell you," said Ted. "Are there any burial caves around here?"

"The Thlinkits do not bury in caves," said Tanana. "We used to burn our dead, but often we place them in totem-poles."

"I thought those great poles by your doors were totems," said Ted, puzzled.

"Yes," said the girl. "They are caste totems, and all who are of any rank have them. As we belong to the Raven, or Bear, or Eagle clan, we have the carved poles to show our rank, but the totem of the dead is quite different. It does not stand beside the door, but far away. It is alone, as the soul of the dead in whose honour it is made. It is but little carved. A square hole is cut at the back of the pole, and the body of the dead, wrapped in a matting of cedar bark, is placed within, a board being nailed so that the body will not fall to the ground. A potlatch is given, and food from the feast is put in the fire for the dead person."

"It seems queer to put weapons and blankets and things to eat on people's graves," said Ted. "Why do they do it?"