XXII

THE WOOING OF BILLY FISHTAIL

There was a bond of sympathy between Billy and myself, for I had looked upon him as a permanent bachelor, and he was always such a reliable fellow. If I set him to whittling a bit of wood or to sawing a board, he was sure soon to apply for a bandage to stop the flow of blood from a wound. On trying to bore a hole through a board with a sharpened knitting-needle, only the bone of his second finger prevented the instrument from pa.s.sing through that also. Even with the axe he was an expert; lifting it high to take a vigorous blow he would bring the back down on his own head, and rush for aid.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. AND MRS. BILLY FISHTAIL]

He was very faithful, however, and nothing seemed to make him so happy as to be doing what he thought would give me pleasure. Some one had informed Billy that far away in the States, the singing on Sundays was accompanied by an organ, so on the following Sunday Billy brought his small accordion to church and tried to accompany the singers. He had not practiced the tunes, and there seemed to be a difference between the drums of his ears, for one would catch a tune one way while the other gave a different interpretation. The accordion could not please both ears, so it squeaked and wheezed out an air of its own.

At last a time came when it was evident that a change was coming over Billy. He was growing more particular in his personal appearance, and was even trying to learn how to whistle.

Just about the same time, rumor said that the widow Okpoktoah had been seen running around the village trying to procure the loan of a cake of soap. It looked very suspicious, but Billy would not admit anything. He would simply hang his head and grin. Then the cook came one morning with the information that Billy had been seen very late the previous evening talking earnestly with the widow at her iglo.

Time has now rolled along and Billy is very happy for he owns the widow, yet those gossiping neighbors will persist in saying that Billy is not finding his nights quite as restful as formerly, for his little daughter has a very imperative way of ordering him to take a walk during those hours of the night when sleep seems the most refreshing.

XXIII

WRITING

To the uninitiated children of nature, the art of reading and writing seemed at first as great a mystery as the electric current. How those scrawls of black lines were words, that could be spoken just the same as in conversation, was beyond their comprehension. At first, they gathered around every time a letter was received and listened eagerly.

Then arose the desire for them to be able to make out those intelligible scrawls that had a meaning.

One elderly woman seemed to feel slighted that she had not received a letter; so going on board the whalers at anchor, she inquired if there was not one for her. At last her heart was made glad by receiving a mukpar[=a] (letter) which read as follows:--"Give this woman a dose of poison." Carefully wrapping the precious missive in a piece of sealskin and attaching a string, she wore it around her neck as an ornament, and guarded it zealously.

With the young people, it was a proud day when they had advanced far enough in their studies to be supplied with a pen for the first time.

Eagerly taking the pen and copy, the scholar would lie flat on the floor, in the most secluded part of the room, then call loudly to all the others to stand out of the light. If a blot accidentally occurred, an attempt would be made to erase it with the finger-nail. So the young Inupash gradually advanced until he became proficient enough to begin writing compositions.

The young tribal prince, for his first composition, chose to write upon the seal, and supposed he had exhausted the subject when he wrote, "Man he go on ice, shoot him seal. By and by woman she come dog sled, take him seal home. By and by man he go home tell woman, You cook him seal very big quick, me big plenty hungry."

Those earlier days have pa.s.sed by and the mystery of the scrawls has been solved. The young Inupash are learning to read quite nicely and can now write their own letters. They still have the English grammar to master; it is very different from their own, but at length they will accomplish that task, and at no very distant time. The days when they used to borrow each other's fingers to do their counting with have gone by. They are steadily advancing and will, in the course of time, be numbered among our good and intelligent citizens. They are the only ones that are naturally fitted to inhabit this, the most northern part of our country.