This was in the morning of the year. You know in Kak’s country, not only the days divide themselves into light and darkness, but the whole year also. Spring and summer are light, autumn darkens, and Christmas comes in a continual twilight. Kak liked the autumn and winter best. To be sure, summer is cheerful. The sun never setting means daylight goes on all the time, and daylight activities with it. Nobody keeps any sort of regular hours. You sleep when you feel sleepy and eat whenever food is set before you; and it is all rather fun. But it grows terribly hot with the sun blazing over your head hour after hour for weeks. Kak often felt very uncomfortable even in a single old fur shirt; and if he took it off the pesky cloud of mosquitoes made life unbearable. Traveling without sleds over the rough ground was exceedingly difficult, too. So on the whole, he cared most for what we might call the evening, when the sun hid itself below the horizon, and the days were equal with the nights; when water froze and the snow fell gently, and hunting grew more agreeable. Next, he liked the period of moon and stars, or winter. Then the family settled into a comfortable snow house somewhere on the shore ice. Having eaten their stores of dried meat and oil during the fall, they were obliged to spear seals; but they did very little other work, and spent most of their time sitting about the lamp snug and warm, telling stories and singing songs.
One day in the morning of the year with the sun well up, Kak and his father went seal hunting. There were other hunters distant on the ice, for by now several families had joined Taptuna and Hitkoak. Luck continued poor. They had been sitting on snow blocks ever so long, the boy almost falling asleep from boredom, when he chanced to look in his daddy’s direction, and was turned to stone by what he saw. Beyond those hunched shoulders, not so very far away, three men with a laden sled and many dogs were approaching rapidly.
Kak knew them for strangers at once. Their clothes were quite unlike the clothes worn by his own people; nor were their dogs harnessed each to a separate trace and spread fanlike, but one in front of the other—an imposing string of more than six animals. He had never dreamed anybody would drive more than three dogs on one sled. The novel magnificence of it all took his breath.
Fear and expectation leaped in the boy’s heart. Every Eskimo believes there are bad Eskimos belonging to other tribes who are out to do him no good; if these were bad Eskimos there would be a fight—a glorious row with the odds all against them! Kak’s blood pounded in his veins, for he saw another chance of distinguishing himself. Then he began to consider those odds: a man and a boy and Sapsuk against three grown men and ever so many dogs, and these strangers looked big husky fellows. His knees knocked queerly. It would be worse than an ugrug or even a bear—men are wickeder than beasts and cleverer—and if they took his father by surprise.... No, no! That would never do. Kak understood he must warn Taptuna; but he did not want to let the enemy know he intended doing so lest they make a dash and get in first.
Plucking his bodkin from the hole the boy commenced to work around cautiously in his father’s direction; as he drew nearer, where he could see the other’s face, he suddenly knew that Taptuna was already watching the three men out on the ice; though he sat perfectly still and pretended to be minding his own business. You see, Kak’s father thought much more gravely of those odds against them and wanted to avoid any chance of a quarrel; so he lay low—played ’possum till the party should arrive. If they came peacefully, well and good; if they showed fight—he was prepared. He darted a glance at Kak revealing this plan, commanding him to be silent; and the lad froze where he stood.
The strangers came on rapidly, stopped at a distance, looked long at Taptuna, and bunched together for consultation; arguing, pointing at the hunters, gesticulating excitedly. After a while one of the three walked forward alone.
The Eskimo stayed hunched over his fishing just like a rock on the ice. Kak could see he was watching out of the corners of his eyes, and holding himself ready. The boy smiled, for he knew his father a desperate, clever fighter, equal to any man single-handed.
On came the foreigner in his foreign clothes, walking confidently, swaggering boldly, offering no peace sign nor suggestion of any such thing. He acted as if he owned the earth. But when he was yet five paces away Taptuna sprang lightly to his feet, and seizing his long knife, flung himself into defensive position, while Sapsuk burst out with loud barks:
“Wow—woof—wow!”
