Tungnāluke's Perplexity
Tungnāluke was one of those slow-of-comprehension, good-natured, shiftless fellows, that the men of the world would consider as not being very bright. He would rather hang around his neighbors doing a bit of gossiping, than to exert himself by hunting for his family. As usual with such characters, he had chosen for a wife a woman his extreme opposite, and she was not to be blamed if, at times, she exercised her fiery tongue or wielded a stick. It was the only way to excite a little energy in the man she had accepted as her life partner. There was a certain amount of affection existing between the two; she looking upon him as a man she could control, while on his part, he viewed her with a considerable amount of respect.
Knowing the man's gossiping disposition so well, she had ordered him to go up the river alone for three or four weeks and lay in a winter's supply of fish. He would much rather have taken a companion, for spending three or four weeks alone fishing through the ice, with no one to converse with, did not meet with his approbation; yet he knew better than to raise any objections with Mrs. Tungnāluke. So he obeyed and went off. Feeling the loneliness of his position, he worked with an unusual amount of energy, trying to hurry the task through. Still the feeling of, "Oh, if I only had some one to talk to," would occasionally steal over him.
One day, meeting with unusual success, he stayed at the task much later than usual and the twilight had begun to fade. At last casting his eyes toward his hut he was surprised to see the place brightly illuminated. What could it mean? He knew that the seal-oil lamp had not been lighted that day and there was no other person within many miles.
The number four seems to be regarded among the villagers with some degree of superstition, though why it is hard to say. Perhaps it originated from the idea that man ascends on the fourth day after death, and the four raps with the hammer are given on that day at the recent home of the deceased.
Tungnāluke, on seeing the illumination, hastily picked up four frozen fish and on entering the hut he was delighted to see a woman. Here was somebody to talk to. To be sure, she had a deerskin mask over her face, and he knew that was the way the villagers dressed the dead, but he gave the subject no heed. The place was nice and warm, and he felt that his solitude was at an end. He could now have a nice long conversation; so seating himself on the floor he spoke to the visitor. But she made no reply. He then pushed one of the frozen fish toward her, but the fish came flapping back. Then he offered the other fish one by one, telling her to eat; but they came flapping back as did the first. Thinking that the warmth of the room had brought them back to life, he gave the subject no further attention.
His curiosity being aroused, and wishing to see who the visitor was, he pulled the death mask from her face and threw it outside; but it came back and covered the face again. Supposing that it was the wind which had blown it back, he pulled it off again and threw it outside; but with the same result as before. It was not until the fifth time that the mask stayed away. Then recognizing one of the young women of the village, he spoke but received no reply. Passing his hand over her face he felt that she was cold and clammy, and supposing it was a chill she had he placed her in his bed.
After awhile he had the satisfaction of knowing that his visitor was growing warmer. Then she spoke and told him she had died and been buried, but that he had warmed and made her comfortable again. After talking together for quite awhile, the visitor proposed that they should return to the village together, Tungnāluke taking her for his wife.
At last the truth began to dawn through his mind, and he found himself in a perplexity. Here he had been making a ghost comfortable, and it was now insisting on being his wife. He already had one in the village, whom he had a great amount of respect for, and knew she would be highly indignant if he brought a second wife home, especially so if the new one was the recently deceased neighbor. So he refused, but the ghost insisted. He was in a great perplexity, not knowing how to escape from his dilemma. The ghost was growing more and more imperative in its demands.