Kalitan, Our Little Alaskan Cousin - Mary F. Nixon Roulet
KALITAN
Our Little Alaskan Cousin
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
_Author of "Our Little Spanish Cousin", "With a pessimist in Spain,"
"God, the King, My Brother," etc._
1907
_Illustrated_
TO MY LITTLE SON John Nixon de Roulet
Preface
Away up toward the frozen north lies the great peninsula, which the
United States bought from the Russians, and thus became responsible for
the native peoples from whom the Russians had taken the land.
There are many kinds of people there, from Indians to Esquimos, and they
are under the American Government, yet they have no votes and are not
called American citizens.
It is about this country and its people that this little story is
written, and in the hope of interesting American girls and boys in these
very strange people, their Little Alaskan Cousins.
Contents
I. KALITAN TENAS
II. AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE
III. TO THE GLACIER
IV. TED MEETS MR. BRUIN
V. A MONSTER OF THE DEEP
VI. THE ISLAND HOME OF KALITAN
VII. TWILIGHT TALES AND TOTEMS
VIII. THE BERRY DANCE IX. ON THE WAY TO NOME
X. IN THE GOLD COUNTRY
XI. AFTERNOON TEA IN AN EGLU
XII. THE SPLENDOUR OF SAGHALIE TYEE
List of Illustrations
"KALITAN FISHED DILIGENTLY BUT CAUGHT LITTLE"
"AWAY WENT ANOTHER STINGING LANCE"
"A GROUP OF PEOPLE AWAITING THE CANOES"
"MOUNT SHISHALDIN"
"'LET'S WATCH THOSE TWO MEN. THEY HAVE EVIDENTLY STAKED A CLAIM
TOGETHER'"
"TWO FUNNY LITTLE LAPP BABIES HE TOOK TO RIDE ON A LARGE REINDEER"
KALITAN
Our Little Alaskan Cousin
CHAPTER I
KALITAN TENAS
It was bitterly cold. Kalitan Tenas felt it more than he had in the long
winter, for then it was still and calm as night, and now the wind was
blowing straight in from the sea, and the river was frozen tight. A
month before, the ice had begun to break and he had thought the cold was
over, and that the all too short Alaskan summer was at hand. Now it was
the first of May, and just as he had begun to think of summer pleasures,
lo! a storm had come which seemed to freeze the very marrow of his bones.
However, our little Alaskan cousin was used to cold and trained to it,
and would not dream of fussing over a little snow-storm.
Kalitan started out to fish for his dinner, and though the snow came down
heavily and he had to break through the ice to make a fishing-hole, and
soon the ice was a wind-swept plain where even his own tracks were
covered with a white pall, he fished steadily on. He never dreamed of
stopping until he had fish enough for dinner, for, like most of his
tribe, he was persevering and industrious.
Kalitan was a Thlinkit, though, if you asked him, he would say he was
"Klinkit." This is a tribe which has puzzled wise people for a long
time, for the Thlinkits are not Esquimos, not Indians, not coloured
people, nor whites. They are the tribes living in Southeastern Alaska and
along the coast. Many think that a long, long time ago, they came from
Japan or some far Eastern country, for they look something like the
Japanese, and their language has many words similar to Japanese in it.
Perhaps, long years ago, some shipwrecked Japanese were cast upon the
coast of Alaska, and, finding their boats destroyed and the land good to
live in, settled there, and thus began the Thlinkit tribes.
The Chilcats, Haidahs, and Tsimsheans are all Thlinkits, and are by far
the best of the brown people of the Northland. They are honest, simple,
and kind, and more intelligent than the Indians living farther north, in
the colder regions. The Thlinkit coast is washed by the warm current from
the Japan Sea, and it is not much colder than Chicago or Boston, though
the winter is a little longer.
Kalitan fished diligently but caught little. He was warmly clad in
sealskin; around his neck was a white bearskin ruff, as warm as toast,
and very pretty, too, as soft and fluffy as a lady's boa. On his feet
were moccasins of walrus hide. He had been perhaps an hour watching the
hole in the ice, and knelt there so still that he looked almost as though
he were frozen. Indeed, that was what those thought who saw him there,
for suddenly a dog-sledge came round the corner of the hill and a loud
halloo greeted his ears.
"Boston men," he said to himself as he watched them, "lost the trail."
They had indeed lost the trail, and Ted Strong had begun to think they
would never find it again.
Chetwoof, their Indian guide, had not talked very much about it, but
lapsed into his favourite "No understan'," a remark he always made when
he did not want to answer what was said to him.
Ted and his father were on their way from Sitka to the Copper River. Mr.
Strong was on the United States Geological Survey, which Ted knew meant
that he had to go all around the country and poke about all day among
rocks and mountains and glaciers. He had come with his father to this far
Alaskan clime in the happiest expectation of adventures with bears and
Indians, always dear to the heart of a boy.
He was pretty tired of the sledge, having been in it since early morning,
and he was cold and hungry besides; so he was delighted when the dogs
stopped and his father said:
"Hop out, son, and stretch your legs. We'll try to find out where we are
before we go any farther."
Chetwoof meanwhile was interviewing the boy, who came quickly toward
them, "Who are you?" demanded Chetwoof.
"Kalitan Tenas," was the brief reply.
"Where are we?" was the next question.
"Near to Pilchickamin River."
"Where is a camp?"
"There," said the boy, pointing toward a clump of pine-trees. "Ours."
Ted by this time was tired of his own unwonted silence, and he came up to
Kalitan, holding out his hand.
"My name is Ted Strong," he said, genially, grinning cheerfully at the
young Alaskan, "I say this is a jolly place. I wish you would teach me to
fish in a snow-hole. It must be great fun. I like you; let's be friends!"
Kalitan took the boy's hand in his own rough one.
"Mahsie" (thank you), he said, a sudden quick smile sweeping his dark
face like a fleeting sunbeam, but disappearing as quickly, leaving it
grave again. "Olo?" (hungry).
"Yes," said Mr. Strong, "hungry and cold."
"Camp," said Kalitan, preparing to lead the way, with the hospitality of
his tribe, for the Thlinkits are always ready to share food and fire with
any stranger. The two boys strode off together, and Mr. Strong could
scarcely help smiling at the contrast between them.
Ted was the taller, but slim even in the furs which almost smothered him,
leaving only his bright face exposed to the wind and weather. His hair
was a tangle of yellow curls which no parting could ever affect, for it
stood straight up from his forehead like a golden fleece; his mother
called it his aureole. His skin was fair as a girl's, and his eyes as big
and blue as a young Viking's; but the Indian boy's locks were black as
ink, his skin was swarthy, his eyes small and dark, and his features that
strange mixture of the Indian, the Esquimo, and the Japanese which we
often see in the best of our Alaskan cousins.
Boys, however, are boys all the world over, and friendly animals, and Ted
was soon chattering away to his newly found friend as if he had known
him all his life.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Kalitan," was the answer. "They call me Kalitan Tenas;[1] my father
was Tyee."
[Footnote 1: Little Arrow.]
"Where is he?" asked Ted. He wanted to see an Indian chief.
"Dead," said Kalitan, briefly.
"I'm sorry," said Ted. He adored his own father, and felt it was hard on
a boy not to have one.
"He was killed," said Kalitan, "but we had blood-money from them," he
added, sternly.
"What's that?" asked Ted, curiously.
"Long time ago, when one man kill another, his clan must
pay with a life. One must be found from his tribe to cry?
'O-o-o-o-o-a-ha-a-ich-klu-kuk-ich-klu-kuk'" (ready to die, ready to
die). His voice wailed out the mournful chant, which was weird and solemn
and almost made Ted shiver. "But now," the boy went on? "Boston men"
(Americans) "do not like the blood-tax, so the murderer pays money
instead. We got many blankets and baskets and moneys for Kalitan Tyee. He
great chief."
"Do you live here?" asked Ted.
"No, live on island out there." Kalitan waved his hand seaward. "Come to
fish with my uncle, Klake Tyee. This good fishing-ground."
"It's a pretty fine country," said Ted, glancing at the scene, which bore
charm to other than boyish eyes. To the east were the mountains
sheltering a valley through which the frozen river wound like a silver
ribbon, widening toward the sea. A cold green glacier filled the valley
between two mountains with its peaks of beauty. Toward the shore, which
swept in toward the river's mouth in a sheltered cove, were clumps of
trees, giant fir, aspen, and hemlock, green and beautiful, while seaward
swept the waves in white-capped loveliness.
Kalitan ushered them to the camp with great politeness and
considerable pride.
"You've a good place to camp," said Mr. Strong, "and we will gladly share
your fire until we are warm enough to go on."
Ted's face fell. "Must we go right away?" he asked. "This is such a
jolly place."
"No go to-day," said Kalitan, briefly, to Chetwoof. "_Colesnass_."[2]
[Footnote 2: Snow.]
"Huh!" said Chetwoof. "Think some."
"Here comes my uncle," said Kalitan, and he ran eagerly to meet an old
Indian who came toward the camp from the shore. He eagerly explained the
situation to the Tyee, who welcomed the strangers with grave politeness.
He was an old-man, with a seamed, scarred faces but kindly eyes. Chief of
the Thlinkits, his tribe was scattered, his children dead, and Kalitan
about all left to him of interest in life.
"There will be more snow," he said to Mr. Strong. "You are welcome. Stay
and share our fire and food."
"Do let us stay, father," cried Ted, and his father smiled indulgently,
but Kalitan looked at him in astonishment. Alaskan boys are taught to
hold their tongues and let their elders decide matters, and Kalitan would
never have dreamed of teasing for anything.
But Mr. Strong did not wish to face another snow-storm in the sledge, and
knew he could work but little till the storm was passed; so he readily
consented to stay a few days and let Ted see some real Alaskan hunting
and fishing.
Both boys were delighted, and soon had the camp rearranged to
accommodate the strangers. The fire was built up, Ted and Kalitan
gathering cones and fir branches, which made a fragrant blaze, while
Chetwoof cared for the dogs, and the old chief helped Mr. Strong pitch
his tent in the lee of some fragrant firs. Soon all was prepared and
supper cooking over the coals,--a supper of fresh fish and seal fat,
which Alaskans consider a great delicacy, and to which Mr. Strong added
coffee and crackers from his stores,--and Indians and whites ate
together in friendliness and amity.
CHAPTER II
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE
"How does if happen that you speak English, Kalitan?" asked Mr. Strong as
they sat around the camp-fire that evening. The snow had continued during
the afternoon, and the boys had had an exciting time coasting and
snow-balling and enjoying themselves generally.
"I went for a few months to the Mission School at Wrangel," said Kalitan.
"I learned much there. They teach the boys to read and write and do sums
and to work the ground besides. They learn much more than the girls."
"Huh!" said the old chief, grimly. "Girls learn too much. They no good
for Indian wives, and white men not marry them. Best for girls to stay at
home at the will of their fathers until they get husbands."
"So you've been in Wrangel," said Ted to Kalitan. "We went there, too.
It's a dandy place. Do you remember the fringe of white mountains back of
the harbour? The people said the woods were full of game, but we didn't
have time to go hunting. There are a few shops there, but it seemed to me
a very small place to have been built since 1834. In the States whole
towns grow up in two or three weeks."
"Huh!" said Kalitan, with a quick shrug of his shoulders, "quick grow,
sun fade and wind blow down."
"I don't think the sun could ever fade in Wrangel," laughed Ted. "They
told me there it hadn't shone but fifteen days in three months. It rained
all the time."
"Rain is nothing," said Kalitan. "It is when the Ice Spirit speaks in the
North Wind's roar and in the crackling of the floes that we tremble. The
glaciers are the children of the Mountain Spirit whom our fathers
worshipped. He is angry, and lo! he hurls down icebergs in his wrath, he
tosses them about, upon the streams he tosses the _kyaks_ like feathers
and washes the land with the waves of Sitth. When our people are buried
in the ground instead of being burnt with the fire, they must go for ever
to the place of Sitth, of everlasting cold, where never sun abides, nor
rain, nor warmth."
Ted had listened spellbound to this poetic speech and gazed at Kalitan in
open-mouthed amazement. A boy who could talk like that was a new and
delightful playmate, and he said: "Tell me more about things, Kalitan,"
but the Indian was silent, ashamed of having spoken.
"What do you do all day when you are at home?" persisted the American.
"In winter there is nothing to do but to hunt and fish," said Kalitan.
"Sometimes we do not find much game, then we think of how, when a
Thlinkit dies, he has plenty. If he has lived as a good tribesman, his
kyak glides smoothly over the silver waters into the sunset, until, o'er
gently flowing currents, it reaches the place of the mighty forest. A bad
warrior's canoe passes dark whirlpools and terrible rapids until he
reaches the place we speak not of, where reigns Sitth.
"In the summer-time we still hunt and fish. Many have learned to till
the ground, and we gather berries and wood for the winter. The other
side of the inlet, the tree-trunks drift from the Yukon and are stranded
on the islands, so there is plenty for firewood. But upon our island
the women gather a vine and dry it. They collect seaweed for food in the
early spring, and dry it and press it into square cakes, which make good
food after they have hung long In the sun. They make baskets and sell
them to the white people. Often my uncle and I take them to Valdez, and
once we brought back fifty dollars for those my mother made. There is
always much to do."
"Don't you get terribly cold hunting in the winter?" asked Ted.
"Thlinkit boy not a baby," said Kalitan, a trifle scornfully. "We begin
to be hardened when we are babies. When I was five years old, I left my
father and went to my uncle to be taught. Every morning I bathed in the
ocean, even if I had to break ice to find water, and then I rolled in the
snow. After that my uncle brushed me with a switch bundle, and not
lightly, for his arm is strong. I must not cry out, no matter if he hurt,
for a chief's son must never show, pain nor fear. That would give his
people shame."
"Don't you get sick?" asked Ted? who felt cold all over at the idea of
being treated in such a heroic manner.
"The _Kooshta_[3] comes sometimes," said Kalitan, "The Shaman[4] used to
cast him out, but now the white doctor can do it, unless the _kooshta_ is
too strong."
[Footnote 3: Kooshta, a spirit in animal's form which inhabits the body
of sick persons and must be cast out, according to Thlinkit belief.]
[Footnote 4: Shaman, native medicine-man.]
Ted was puzzled as to Kalitan's exact meaning, but did not like to ask
too many questions for fear of being impolite, so he only said: "Being
sick is not very nice, anyhow."
"To be bewitched is the most terrible," said Kalitan, gravely.
"How does that happen?" asked Ted, eagerly, but Kalitan shook his head.
"It is not good to hear," he said. "The medicine-man must come with his
drum and rattle, and he is very terrible. If the white men will not allow
any more the punishing of the witches, they should send more of the white
medicine-men, if we are not to have any more of our own."
"Boys should not talk about big things," said the old chief suddenly. He
had been sitting quietly over the fire, and spoke so suddenly that
Kalitan collapsed into silence. Ted, too, quieted down at the old chiefs
stern voice and manner, and both boys sat and listened to the men
talking, while the snow still swirled about them.
Tyee Klake told Mr. Strong many interesting things about the coast
country, and gave him valuable information as to the route he should
pursue in his search for interesting things in the mountains.
"It will be two weeks before the snow will break so you can travel in
comfort," he said. "Camp with us. We remain here one week, then we go to
the island. We can take you there, you will see many things, and your boy
will hunt with Kalitan."
"Where is your island?" asked Mr. Strong.
Ted said nothing, but his eyes were fixed eagerly upon his father. It was
easy to see that he wished to accept the invitation.
"Out there." Tyee Klake pointed toward where the white coast-line seemed
to fade into silvery blue.
"There are many islands; on some lives no one, but we have a village.
Soon it will be nearly deserted, for many of our people rove during the
summer, and wander from one camping-ground to another, seeking the best
game or fish. But Kalitan's people remain always on the island. Him I
take with me to hunt the whale and seal, to gather the berries, and to
trap the little animals who bear fur. We find even seal upon our shores,
though fewer since your people have come among us."
"Which were the best, Russians or Americans?" asked Mr. Strong,
curious to see what the old Indian would say, but the Tyee was not to
be caught napping.
"Men all alike." he said. "Thlinkit, Russian, American, some good, some
bad. Russians used Indians more, gave them hunting and fishing, and only
took part of the skins. Americans like to hunt and fish all themselves
and leave nothing for the Indians. Russians teach _quass_, Americans
teach whiskey. Before white men came, Indians were healthy. They ate
fish, game, berries; now they must have other foods, and they're not good
for Indians here."--he touched his stomach. "Indian used to dress in
skins and furs, now he must copy white man and shiver with cold. He soon
has the coughing sickness and then he goes into the unknown.
"But the government of the Americans is best because it tries to do some
things for the Indian. It teaches our boys useful things in the schools,
and, if some of its people are bad, some Indians are bad, too. Men all
alike," he repeated with the calm stoicism of his race.
"The government is far away," said Mr. Strong, "and should not be blamed
for the doings of all its servants. I should like to see this island home
of yours, and think we must accept your invitation; shall we, Ted?" he
smiled at the boy.
"Yes, indeed; thank you, sir," said Ted, and he and Kalitan grinned at
each other happily.
"We shall stay in camp until the blue jay comes," said the old chief,
smiling, "and then seek the village of my people."
"What does the blue jay mean?" asked Ted, timidly, for he was very much
in awe of this grave old man.
Kalitan said something in Thlinkit to his uncle, and the old chief,
looking kindly at the boy, replied with, a nod:
"I will tell you the story of the blue jay," he said.
"My story is of the far, far north. Beside a salmon stream there dwelt
people rich in slaves. These caught and dried the salmon for the winter,
and nothing is better to eat than dried salmon dipped in seal oil. All
the fish were caught and stored away, when lo! the whiteness fell from
heaven and the snows were upon them. It was the time of snow and they
should not have complained, but the chief was evil and he cursed the
whiteness. No one should dare to speak evil of the Snow Spirit, which
comes from the Unknown! Deeper and deeper grew the snow. It flew like
feathers about the _eglu_,[5] and the slaves had many troubles in
putting in limbs for the fire. Then the snow came in flakes so large they
seemed like the wings of birds, and the house was covered, and they could
no longer keep their _kyaks_ on top of the snow. All were shut tight in
the house, and their fire and food ran low. They knew not how many days
they were shut in, for there was no way to tell the day from night, only
they knew they were sore hungry and that the Snow Spirit was angry and
terrible in his anger.
[Footnote 5: Hut.]
"But each one spoke not; he only chose a place where he should lie down
and die when he could bear no more.
"Only the chief spoke, and he once. 'Snow Spirit,' he said aloud, 'I
alone am evil. These are not so. Slay me and spare!' But the Snow Spirit
answered not, only the wind screamed around the _eglu_, and his screams
were terrible and sad. Then hope left the heart of the chief and he
prepared to die with all his people and all his slaves.
"But on the day when their last bit of food was gone, lo! something
pecked at the top of the smoke-hole, and it sang 'Nuck-tee,' and it was a
blue jay. The chief heard and saw and wondered, and, looking 'neath the
smoke-hole, he saw a scarlet something upon the floor. Picking it up, he
found it was a bunch of Indian tomato berries, red and ripe, and quickly
hope sprang in his breast.
"'Somewhere is summer,' he cried, 'Let us up and away.'
"Then the slaves hastened to dig out the canoe, and they drew it with
mighty labour, for they were weak from fasting, over the snows to the
shore, and there they launched it without sail or paddle, with all the
people rejoicing. And after a time the wind carried them to a beach
where all was summer. Birds sang, flowers bloomed, and berries gleamed
scarlet in the sun, and there were salmon jumping in the blue water.
They ate and were satisfied, for it was summer on the earth and summer
in their hearts.
"That is how the Thlinkits came to our island, and so we say when the
snow breaks, that now comes the blue jays."
"Thank you for telling us such a dandy story." cried Ted, who had not
lost a word of this quaint tale, told so graphically over the camp-fire
of the old chief Klake.
CHAPTER III
TO THE GLACIER
Ted slept soundly all night, wrapped in the bearskins from the sledge,
in the little tent he shared with his father. When the morning broke, he
sprang to his feet and hurried out of doors, hopeful for the day's
pleasures. The snow had stopped, but the ground was covered with a thick
white pall, and the mountains were turned to rose colour in the morning
sun, which was rising in a blaze of glory.
"Good morning, Kalitan," shouted Ted to his Indian friend, whom he
spied heaping wood upon the camp-fire. "Isn't it dandy? What can we
do to-day?"
"Have breakfast," said Kalitan, briefly. "Then do what Tyee says."
"Well, I hope he'll say something exciting." said Ted.
"Think good day to hunt," said Kalitan, as he prepared things for the
morning meal.
"Where did you get the fish?" asked Ted.
"Broke ice-hole and fished when I got up," said the Thlinkit.
"You don't mean you have been fishing already," exclaimed the lazy Ted,
and Kalitan smiled as he said:
"White people like fish. Tyee said: 'Catch fish for Boston men's
breakfast,' and I go."
"Do you always mind him like that?" asked Ted. He generally obeyed his
father, but there were times when he wasn't anxious to and argued a
little about it. Kalitan looked at him in astonishment.
"He chief!" he said, simply.
"What will we do with the camp if we all go hunting?" asked Ted.
"Nothing," said Kalitan.
"Leave Chetwoof to watch, I suppose," I continued Ted.
"Watch? Why?" asked Kalitan.
"Why, everything; some one will steal our things," said Ted.
"Thlinkits not steal," said Kalitan, with dignity. "Maybe white man come
along and steal from his brothers; Indians not. If we go away to long
hunt, we _cache_ blankets and no one would touch."
"What do you mean by _cache_?" asked Ted.
"We build a mound hut near the house, and put there the blankets and
stores. Sometime they stay there for years, but no one would take from a
_cache_. If one has plenty of wood by the seashore or in the forest, he
may cord it and go his way and no one will touch it. A deer hangs on a
tree where dogs may not reach it, but no stray hunter would slice even a
piece. We are not thieves."
"It is a pity you could not send missionaries to the States, you
Thlinkits, my boy," said Mr. Strong, who had come up in time to hear
Kalitan's words, "I'm afraid white people are less honest."
"Teddy, do you know we are to have some hunting to-day, and that you'll
get your first experience with a glacier."
"Hurrah," shouted Ted, dancing up and down in excitement.
"Tyee Klake says we can hunt toward the base of the glacier, and I
shall try to go a little ways upon it and see how the land lies, or,
rather, the ice. It is getting warmer, and, if it continues a few days,
the snow will melt enough to let us go over to that island you are so
anxious to see."
Ted's eyes shone, and the amount of breakfast he put away quite prepared
him for his day's work, which, pleasant though it might be, certainly was
hard work. The chief said they must seek the glacier first before the sun
got hot, for it was blinding on the snow. So they set out soon after
breakfast, leaving Chetwoof in charge of the camp, and with orders to
catch enough fish for dinner.