“Esquimaux no stay in house where one has died,” said Nicholas.
“What are they going to do with him?” the boy insisted.
“Put him in a thicket and stuff moss in his mouth so he make no noise to keep people awake,” said Nicholas calmly. “By and by Luna come and get him spirit.”
“What’s Luna?” Alex demanded.
“Him the great spirit of the Yukon,” said Nicholas with a shiver. He live down under the ice. Him the greatest spirit of the Yukon.”
“What are we going to do about it, Ike?” Alex asked, helplessly. “It’s their law and custom. Has been for hundreds of centuries, I guess, but we can’t let that little fellow die like that. Of course we could pick him up and carry him off but it might mean a fight with these old men and old women and we might kill some of them. It wouldn’t be right to kill a live person for the sake of saving one who is dying. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll fix it up all right,” said Ike. “Don’t you worry your head none.”
“Him got father?” he demanded of Nicholas. “Father him die. Winter famine catch him.” “Mother,” Ike questioned.
“She die too—famine.”
“Ain’t he got no relations at all?” Ike inquired. An old man, shaky with age, stepped out from the group. “I’m his uncle,” he quavered.