“Now we are already made food for that monster,” they cried, “since that wretched boy marks out the way with a trail of blood.”
“Let us kill him, then,” said one. But the others took pity on him, and let him live.
And now the evil spirit came in sight out on the ice; they could see the tips of its ears over the hummocks as it crept along. When it came up to the houses, not a dog barked, and none dared try to surround it, for it was not a real bear. But at last an old woman began crying to the dogs:
“See, there is your cousin—bark at him!” And now the dogs were loosed from the magic that bound them, and when the men saw this, they too dashed forward, and harpooned that thing.
But when they came to cut up the bear, they knew its skin for the old woman’s coverlet, and its bones were human bones.
And now the sledges drove out to find the gear they had left behind, and they saw that everything was torn to pieces. And when they found Papik, he was cut about in every part. Eyes, nose and mouth and ears were hacked away, and the scalp torn from his head.
Thus that old woman took vengeance for the killing of her son Ailaq.
And so it was our fathers used to tell: when any man killed his fellow without good cause, a monster would come and strike him dead with fear, and leave no part whole in all his body.
The people of old times thought it an ill thing for men to kill each other.
This story I heard from the men who came to us from the far side of the great sea.