Mythology and Folklore UN-Textbook: Unit: Eskimo Folk Tales

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Myth-Folklore Unit: Eskimo Folk Tales

Overview. These Canadian Inuit stories were recorded by the polar explorer Knud Rasmussen (whose mother was Inuit) in the early years of the 20th century; his Inuit name was Kunúnguaq. Rasmussen grew up in Greenland among the Kalaallit Inuit speaking the Kalaallisut language, and he spent his life investigating the origin and culture of the Inuit peoples. He published many books about his expeditions and research; Eskimo Folk-Tales was published in 1921, and it contains illustrations by Inuit artists. You will read here about the shamans and their adventures in the spirit world, including encounters with the tupilak (zombies), man-eaters, and ghosts. There are stories of family drama, too, along with animal tales and the Inuit creation story about how the world began.

Language. Rasmussen reports these stories in a style quite close to the original oral style, not quite as extreme as the Apache stories, but close to it. If you want to read stories that are close to the original oral storytelling tradition, this unit and the Apache unit are two good choices. The names are quite unusual, but as the names do not recur from story to story, that should not be a big problem for any given story.

Story Length. These are all single-page stories.

Navigation. You will find the table of contents below, and you can also use this link to see the story posts displayed on two pages total: Eskimo Folk Tales. Click "Older Posts" at the bottom of that page to see the second page.

READING A:

READING B:

Eskimo Folk-Tales: The Coming of Men

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

The Coming of Men, A Long, Long While Ago

OUR forefathers have told us much of the coming of earth, and of men, and it was a long, long while ago. Those who lived long before our day, they did not know how to store their words in little black marks, as you do; they could only tell stories. And they told of many things, and therefore we are not without knowledge of these things, which we have heard told many and many a time, since we were little children. Old women do not to waste their words idly, and we believe what they say. Old age does not lie.

A long, long time ago, when the earth was to be made, it fell down from the sky. Earth, hills and stones, all fell down from the sky, and thus the earth was made.

And then, when the earth was made, came men.

It is said that they came forth out of the earth. Little children came out of the earth. They came forth from among the willow bushes, all covered with willow leaves. And there they lay among the little bushes: lay and kicked, for they could not even crawl. And they got their food from the earth.

Then there is something about a man and a woman, but what of them? It is not clearly known. When did they find each other, and when had they grown up? I do not know. But the woman sewed, and made children's clothes, and wandered forth. And she found little children, and dressed them in the clothes, and brought them home.

And in this way men grew to be many.

And being now so many, they desired to have dogs. So a man went out with a dog leash in his hand, and began to stamp on the ground, crying "Hok—hok—hok!" Then the dogs came hurrying out from the hummocks, and shook themselves violently, for their coats were full of sand. Thus men found dogs.

(Visit Greenland, Flickr)

But then children began to be born, and men grew to be very many on the earth. They knew nothing of death in those days, a long, long time ago, and grew to be very old. At last they could not walk, but went blind, and could not lie down.

Neither did they know the sun, but lived in the dark. No day ever dawned. Only inside their houses was there ever light, and they burned water in their lamps, for in those days water would burn.

But these men who did not know how to die, they grew to be too many, and crowded the earth. And then there came a mighty flood from the sea. Many were drowned, and men grew fewer. We can still see marks of that great flood, on the high hill-tops, where mussel shells may often be found.

And now that men had begun to be fewer, two old women began to speak thus: "Better to be without day, if thus we may be without death," said the one.

"No; let us have both light and death," said the other.

And when the old woman had spoken these words, it was as she had wished. Light came, and death.

It is said, that when the first man died, others covered up the body with stones. But the body came back again, not knowing rightly bow to die. It stuck out its head from the bench, and tried to get up. But an old woman thrust it back, and said: "We have much to carry, and our sledges are small."

For they were about to set out on a hunting journey. And so the dead one was forced to go back to the mound of stones.

And now, after men had got light on their earth, they were able to go on journeys, and to hunt, and no longer needed to eat of the earth. And with death came also the sun, moon and stars.

For when men die, they go up into the sky and become brightly shining things there.

Next: Nukúnguasik, who Escaped from the Tupilak

(700 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Nukúnguasik, who Escaped from the Tupilak

As Rasmussen explains in the note to the story the Tupilak is "a monster created by one having magic powers, who uses it to wreak vengeance on an enemy." He also adds this note about the image: "Making a tupilak. Note the bones of various animals used. The monster is on the point of coming to life."

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

Nukúnguasik, who Escaped from the Tupilak

NUKÚNGUASIK, it is said, had land in a place with many brothers. When the brothers made a catch, they gave him meat for the pot; he himself had no wife. One day he rowed northward in his kayak, and suddenly he took it into his head to row over to a big island which he had never visited before, and now wished to see. He landed, and went up to look at the land, and it was very beautiful there.

And here he came upon the middle one of many brothers, busy with something or other down in a hollow, and whispering all the time. So he crawled stealthily towards him, and when he had come closer, he heard him whispering these words: "You are to bite Nukúnguasik to death; you are to bite Nukúnguasik to death." And then it was clear that he was making a Tupilak, and stood there now telling it what to do.

But suddenly Nukúnguasik slapped him on the side and said: "But where is this Nukúnguasik?"

And the man was so frightened at this that he fell down dead.

And then Nukúnguasik saw that the man had been letting the Tupilak sniff at his body. And the Tupilak was now alive, and lay there sniffing. But Nukúnguasik, being afraid of the Tupilak, went away without trying to harm it.

Now he rowed home, and there the many brothers were waiting in vain for the middle one to return. At last the day dawned, and still he had not come. And daylight came, and then as they were preparing to go out in search of him, the eldest of them said to Nukúnguasik: "Nukúnguasik, come with us; we must search for him."

And so Nukúnguasik went with them, but as they found nothing, he said: "Would it not be well to go and make search over on that island, where no one ever goes?"

And having gone on to the island, Nukúnguasik said: "Now you can go and look on the southern side."

When the brothers reached the place, he heard them cry out, and the eldest said: "O wretched one! Why did you ever meddle with such a thing as this!"

And they could be heard weeping all together about the dead man.

And now Nukúnguasik went up to them, and there lay the Tupilak, still alive, and nibbling at the body of the dead man. But the brothers buried him there, making a mound of stones above him. And then they went home.

Nukúnguasik lived there as the oldest in the place, and died at last after many years.

Here I end this story: I know no more.

Next: The Woman Who Had a Bear as a Foster-Son

(500 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: The Woman Who Had a Bear as a Foster-Son

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

(polar bear)

The Woman Who Had a Bear as a Foster-Son

THERE was once an old woman living in a place where others lived. She lived nearest the shore, and when those who lived in houses up above had been out hunting, they gave her both meat and blubber.

And once they were out hunting as usual, and now and again they got a bear, so that they frequently ate bear's meat. And they came home with a whole bear. The old woman received a piece from the ribs as her share and took it home to her house.

After she had come home to her house, the wife of the man who had killed the bear came to the window and said: "Dear little old woman in there, would you like to have a bear's cub?"

And the old woman went and fetched it, and brought it into her house, shifted her lamp, and placed the cub, because it was frozen, up on to the drying frame to thaw. Suddenly she noticed that it moved a little, and took it down to warm it. Then she roasted some blubber, for she had heard that bears lived on blubber, and in this way she fed it from that time onwards, giving it greaves to eat and melted blubber to drink, and it lay beside her at night.

And after it had begun to lie beside her at night it grew very fast, and she began to talk to it in human speech, and thus it gained the mind of a human being, and when it wished to ask its foster-mother for food, it would sniff.

The old woman now no longer suffered want, and those living near brought her food for the cub. The children came sometimes to play with it, but then the old woman would say:"Little bear, remember to sheathe your claws when you play with them."

In the morning, the children would come to the window and call in: "Little bear, come out and play with us, for now we are going to play."

And when they went out to play together, it would break the children's toy harpoons to pieces, but whenever it wanted to give any one of the children a push, it would always sheathe its claws.

But at last it grew so strong, that it nearly always made the children cry. And when it had grown so strong, the grown-up people began to play with it, and they helped the old woman in this way, in making the bear grow stronger.

But after a time not even grown men dared play with it, so great was its strength, and then they said to one another: "Let us take it with us when we go out hunting. It may help us to find seal."

And so one day in the dawn, they came to the old woman's window and cried: "Little bear, come and earn a share of our catch; come out hunting with us, bear." But before the bear went out, it sniffed at the old woman. And then it went out with the men.

On the way, one of the men said: "Little bear, you must keep down wind, for if you do not so, the game will scent you, and take fright."

One day when they had been out hunting and were returning home, they called in to the old woman: "It was very nearly killed by the hunters from the northward; we hardly managed to save it alive. Give therefore some mark by which it may be known: a broad collar of plaited sinews about its neck."

And so the old foster-mother made a mark for it to wear; a collar of plaited sinews, as broad as a harpoon line.

And after that it never failed to catch seal, and was stronger even than the strongest of hunters, and never stayed at home even in the worst of all weather. Also it was not bigger than an ordinary bear. All the people in the other villages knew it now, and although they sometimes came near to catching it, they would always let it go as soon as they saw its collar.

But now the people from beyond Angmagssalik heard that there was a bear which could not be caught, and then one of them said: "If ever I see it, I will kill it."

But the others said: "You must not do that; the bear's foster-mother could ill manage without its help. If you see it, do not harm it, but leave it alone, as soon as you see its mark."

One day when the bear came home as usual from hunting, the old foster-mother said: "Whenever you meet with men, treat them as if you were of one kin with them; never seek to harm them unless they first attack."

And it heard the foster-mother's words and did as she had said.

And thus the old foster-mother kept the bear with her. In the summer it went out hunting in the sea, and in winter on the ice, and the other hunters now learned to know its ways, and received shares of its catch.

Once during a storm the bear was away hunting as usual, and did not come home until evening. Then it sniffed at its foster-mother and sprang up on to the bench, where its place was on the southern side. Then the old foster-mother went out of the house, and found outside the body of a dead man, which the bear had hauled home. Then without going in again, the old woman went hurrying to the nearest house, and cried at the window: "Are you all at home?"

"Why?"

"The little bear has come home with a dead man, one whom I do not know."

When it grew light, they went out and saw that it was the man from the north, and they could see he had been running fast, for he had drawn off his furs, and was in his underbreeches. Afterwards they heard that it was his comrades who had urged the bear to resistance, because he would not leave it alone.

A long time after this had happened, the old foster-mother said to the bear: "You had better not stay with me here always; you will be killed if you do, and that would be a pity. You had better leave me."

And she wept as she said this. But the bear thrust its muzzle right down to the floor and wept, so greatly did it grieve to go away from her.

After this, the foster-mother went out every morning as soon as dawn appeared, to look at the weather, and if there were but a cloud as big as one's hand in the sky, she said nothing.

But one morning when she went out, there was not even a cloud as big as a hand, and so she came in and said: "Little bear, now you had better go; you have your own kin far away out there."

But when the bear was ready to set out, the old foster-mother, weeping very much, dipped her hands in oil and smeared them with soot, and stroked the bear's side as it took leave of her, but in such manner that it could not see what she was doing. The bear sniffed at her and went away. But the old foster-mother wept all through that day, and her fellows in the place mourned also for the loss of their bear.

But men say that far to the north, when many bears are abroad, there will sometimes come a bear as big as an iceberg, with a black spot on its side.

Here ends this story.

Next: Qalagánguasê, Who Passed to the Land of Ghosts

(1300 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Qalagánguasê, Who Passed to the Land of Ghosts

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

(Inuit family, 1917)

Qalagánguasê, Who Passed to the Land of Ghosts

THERE was once a boy whose name was Qalagánguasê; his parents lived at a place where the tides were strong. And one day they ate seaweed, and died of it. Then there was only one sister to look after Qalagánguasê, but it was not long before she also died, and then there were only strangers to look after him.

Qalagánguasê was without strength; the lower part of his body was dead, and one day when the others had gone out hunting, he was left alone in the house. He was sitting there quite alone, when suddenly he heard a sound. Now he was afraid, and with great pains he managed to drag himself out of the house into the one beside it, and here he found a hiding-place behind the skin hangings. And while he was in hiding there, he heard a noise again, and in walked a ghost.

"Ai! There are people here!" The ghost went over to the water tub and drank, emptying the dipper twice.

"Thanks for the drink which I thirsty one received," said the ghost. "Thus I was wont to drink when I lived on earth." And then it went out.

Now the boy heard his fellow-villagers coming up and gathering outside the house, and then they began to crawl in through the passage way.

"Qalagánguasê is not here," they said, when they came inside.

"Yes, he is," said the boy. "I hid in here because a ghost came in. It drank from the water tub there." And when they went to look at the water tub, they saw that something had been drinking from it.

Then some time after, it happened again that the people were all out hunting, and Qalagánguasê alone in the place. And there he sat in the house all alone, when suddenly the walls and frame of the house began to shake, and next moment a crowd of ghosts came tumbling into the house, one after the other, and the last was one whom he knew, for it was his sister, who had died but a little time before.

And now the ghosts sat about on the floor and began playing; they wrestled, and told stories, and laughed all the time.

At first Qalagánguasê was afraid of them, but at last he found it a pleasant thing to make the night pass. And not until the villagers could be heard returning did they hasten away.

"Now mind you do not tell tales," said the ghost, "for if you do as we say, then you will gain strength again, and there will be nothing you cannot do." And one by one they tumbled out of the passage way. Only Qalagánguasê's sister could hardly get out, and that was because her brother had been minding her little child, and his touch stayed her. And the hunters were coming back, and quite close, when she slipped out. One could just see the shadow of a pair of feet.

"What was that?" said one. "It looked like a pair of feet vanishing away."

"Listen, and I will tell you," said Qalagánguasê, who already felt his strength returning. "The house has been full of people, and they made the night pass pleasantly for me, and now, they say, I am to grow strong again."

But hardly had the boy said these words, when the strength slowly began to leave him.

"Qalagánguasê is to be challenged to a singing contest," he heard them say, as he lay there. And then they tied the boy to the frame post and let him swing backwards and forwards, as he tried to beat the drum. After that, they all made ready, and set out for their singing contest, and left the lame boy behind in the house all alone. And there he lay all alone, when his mother, who had died long since, came in with his father.

"Why are you here alone?" they asked.

"I am lame," said the boy, and when the others went off to a singing contest, they left me behind."

"Come away with us," said his father and mother.

"It is better so, perhaps," said the boy.

And so they led him out, and bore him away to the land of ghosts, and so Qalagánguasê became a ghost.

And it is said that Qalagánguasê became a woman when they changed him to a ghost. But his fellow-villagers never saw him again.

Next: Isigâligârssik

(700 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Isigâligârssik

As Rasmussen explains in his note to this story: "The first dress worn by a child is supposed to act as a charm against wounds if the former wearer can put it on when a grown man."

For the image he notes: "Wizard preparing for a 'spirit flight.' He is bound head to knees and hands behind; the magic drum resting on his foot is beating itself. Bird's wings are fastened to his back."

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

Isigâligârssik

ISIGÂLIGÂRSSIK was a wifeless man, and he was very strong. One of the other men in his village was a wizard.

Isigâligârssik was taken to live in a house with many brothers, and they were very fond of him.

When the wizard was about to call upon his spirits, it was his custom to call in through the window: "Only the married men may come and hear." And when they who were to hear the spirit calling went out, a little widow and her daughter and Isigâligârssik always stayed behind together in the house. Once, when all had gone out to hear the wizard, as was their custom, these three were thus left alone together. Isigâligârssik sat by the little lamp on the side bench, at work.

Suddenly he heard the widow's daughter saying something in her mother's ear, and then her mother turned towards him and said: "This little girl would like to have you."

Isigâligârssik would also like to have her, and before the others of the house had come back, they were man and wife. Thus when the others of the house had finished and came back, Isigâligârssik had found a wife, and his house-fellows were very glad of this.

Next day, as soon as it was dark, one called, as was the custom: "Let only those who have wives come and hear." And Isigâligârssik, who had hefore had no wife, felt now a great desire to go and hear this. But as soon as he had come in, the great wizard said to Isigâligârssik's wife: "Come here; here."

When she had sat down, he told her to take off her shoes, and then he put them up on the drying frame. Then they made a spirit calling, and when that was ended, the wizard said to Isigâligârssik: "Go away now; you will never have this dear little wife of yours again."

And then Isigâligârssik had to go home without a wife. And Isigâligârssik had to live without a wife. And every time there was a spirit calling, and he went in, the wizard would say: "Ho, what are you doing here, you who have no wife?"

But now anger grew up slowly in him at this, and once when he came home, he said: "That wizard in there has mocked me well, but next time he asks me, I shall know what to answer."

But the others of the village warned him, and said: "No, no; you must not answer him. For if you answer him, then he will kill you."

But one evening when the bad wizard mocked him as usual, Isigâligârssik said: "Ho, and what of you who took my wife away?"

Now the wizard stood up at once, and when Isigâligârssik bent down towards the entrance to creep out, the wizard took a knife, and stabbed him with a great wound.

Isigâligârssik ran quickly home to his house, and said to his wife's mother: "Go quickIy now and take the dress I wore when I was little. It is in the chest there."

And when she took it out, it was so small that it did not look like a dress at all, but it was very pretty. And he ordered her then to dip it in the water bucket. When it was wet, he was able to put it on, and when the lacing thong at the bottom touched the wound, it was healed.

Now when his house-fellows came out after the spirit-calling they thought to find him lying dead outside the entrance. They followed the blood spoor, and at last he had gone into the house. When they came in, he had not a single wound, and all were very glad for that he was healed again.

And now he said: "To-morrow I will go bow-shooting with him."

Then they slept, and awakened, and Isigâligârssik opened his little chest and searched it, and took out a bow that was so small it could hardly be seen in his hands. He strung that bow, and went out, and said: "Come out now and see."

Then they went out, and he went down to the wizard's house, and called through the window: "Big man in there, come out now and let us shoot with the bow!" And when he had said this, he went and stood by a little river. When he turned to look round, the wizard was already by the passage of his house, aiming with his bow.

He said: "Come here." And then Isigâligârssik drew up spittle in his mouth and spat straight down beside his feet. "Come here," he said then to the great wizard.

Then he went over to him, and came nearer and nearer, and stopped just before him. Now the wizard aimed with his bow towards him, and when he did this, the house-fellows cried to Isigâligârssik: "Make yourself small!"

And he made himself so small that only his head could be seen moving backwards and forwards. The wizard shot and missed. And a second time he shot and missed.

Then Isigâligârssik stood up, and took the arrow, and broke it across and said: "Go home; you cannot hit." And then the wizard went off turning many times to look round.

At last, when he bent down to get into his house through the passage way, Isigâligârssik aimed and shot at him. And they heard only the sound of his fall. The arrow was very little, and yet for all that it sent him all doubled up through the entrance, so that he fell down in the passage.

In this way Isigâligârssik won his wife again, and he lived with her afterwards until death.

Next: The Insects that Wooed a Wifeless Man

(1000 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: The Insects that Wooed a Wifeless Man

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

(Greenland man)

The Insects that Wooed a Wifeless Man

THERE was once a wifeless man.

Yes, that is the way a story always begins.

And it was his custom to run down to the girls whenever he saw them out playing. And the young girls always ran away from him into their houses.

And when the time of great hunting set in, and the kayak men lived in plenty, it always happened that he shamefully overslept himself every time he had made up his mind to go out hunting. He did not wake until the sun had gone down, and the hunters began to come in with their catch in tow.

One day when he awoke as usual about sunset, he got into his kayak all the same, and rowed off. Hardly had be passed out of sight of the houses, when he heard a man crying: "My kayak has upset; help me."

And he rowed over and righted him again, and then he saw that it was one of the Noseless Ones, the people from beneath the earth.

"Now I will give you all my hide thongs with ornaments of walrus tusk," said the man who had upset.

"No," said the wifeless man; "such things I am not fit to receive; the only thing I cannot overcome is my miserable sleepiness."

"First come in with me to land," the Fire Man said. And they went in together. When they reached the place, the Noseless One said:"This is the man who saved my life when I was near to death."

"I happened to save you because my course lay athwart your own," said the wifeless man. "It is the first time for many days that I have been out at all in my kayak."

"One beast and one only you may choose when you are on your homeward way. And be careful never to tell what you have seen, or it will go ill with your hunting hereafter." Those were the Fire Man's words. And then the wifeless man rowed home.

But when the time for his expected return had come, he was nowhere to be seen, and the young girls began to rejoice at the misfortune which must have befallen him. For they could not bear the sight of that man.

But then suddenly he came in sight round the point, and at once all cried: "Here comes one who looks like the wifeless man."

And then all the young unmarried girls ran into their houses.

"And the wifeless man has made a catch," one cried.

And hardly had the evening begun to fall when the wifeless man went to rest, and hardly had the light appeared when the wifeless man went out hunting, long before his fellows. Hardly had the sun appeared in the sky, when the wifeless man came home with three seals. And his fellow-hunters were then but just preparing to set out.

Thus the days passed for that wifeless man. Early in the morning he would go out, and when the sun had only just begun to climb the sky, he would come home with his catch.

Then the unmarried girls began talking together.

"What has come to our wifeless man?" they said, and began to vie with one another in seeking his favour.

"Let me, let me," they cried all together.

And the wifeless man turned towards them, and laughingly chose out the best in the flock.

And now they lived together, the wifeless man and the girl, and every day there was freshly caught seal meat to be cut up. At last she grew weary, and cried: "Why ever do you catch such a terrible lot?"

"H'm," said he. "The seals come of themselves, and I catch them—that is all."

But she kept on asking him, and so he said at last: "It was in this way. Once . . ." But having said thus much, he ceased, and went to rest. But it was long before he could sleep.

And the sun was just over the houses of the village before he awoke and set out next day.

That day he caught but one seal.

In the evening, his wife began again asking and asking, and, seeing that she would not desist, at last he said: "It was in this way. Once . . . well, I woke up in the evening, and rowed out, and heard a man crying for help, because his kayak had upset. And I rowed up to him and righted him again, and when I looked at him, it was one of the Noseless Ones. 'It was a good thing you were not idling about by the houses,' said the Noseless One to me. 'I had but just got into my kayak,' said I."

And thus he told all that had happened to him that day, and from that time forward he lost his power of hunting, for now his old sleepiness came over him once more, and he lost all.

At last he had not even skins enough to give his wife for her clothes, and so she ran away and left him. He set off in chase, but she escaped through a crevice in the rocks, a narrow place whereby he could just pass.

Now he lay in wait there, and soon he heard a whispering inside: "You go out to him."

And out crawled a blowfly, and said:"Take me."

"I will not take you," said the wifeless man, "for you pick your food from the muck-heaps."

The blowfly laughed and crawled back again, and he could hear it say: "He will not take me because I pick my food from the muck-heaps."

Then there was more whispering inside.

"Now you go out."

And out came a fly.

"You may have me," it said.

"Thanks," said the wifeless man, "but I do not care for you at all. You lay your eggs about anyhow, and your eyes are quite abominably big."

At this the fly laughed, and went inside with the same message as before.

Again there was a whispering inside.

"Take me," said the cranefly.

"No, your legs are too long," said the wifeless man. And the cranefly went in again, laughing.

Then out came a centipede.

"Take me."

"I will not take you," said the wifeless man, "for you have far too many legs. Your body clings to the ground with all those legs, and your eyes are simply nasty."

And the centipede laughed a cackling laugh and went in again.

They whispered together again in there, and out came a gnat.

"Take me," said the gnat.

"No thanks, you bite," said the wifeless man. And the gnat went in again, laughing.

And then at last his wife bade him come in to her, since he would have none of the others, and at last he just managed to squeeze his body in through the crack, and then he took her to wife again.

"Comb my hair," said the wifeless man, now very happy once more.

And his wife began, and said words above him thus: "Do not wake until the fulmar begins to cry: sleep until we hear a sound of young birds."

And he fell asleep.

And when at last he awoke, he was all alone. The earth was blue with summer, and the fulmar cried noisily on the bird cliff. And it had been winter when he crawled in through the crack.

When he came down to his kayak, the skin was rotted through with age.

And then I suppose he reached home as usual, and now sits scratching himself at ease.

Next: Makíte

(1200 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Makíte

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

Makíte

MAKÍTE, men say, took to wife the sister of many brothers, but he himself could never manage to catch a seal when he was out in his kayak. But his wife's brothers caught seal in great numbers. And so it was that one day he heard his wife say she would leave him, because he never caught anything. And in his grief at hearing this, he said to himself: "This evening, when they are all asleep, I will go up into the hills and live there all alone."

When darkness had fallen, he set off up into the hills, but as he went, his wife's father, who was standing outside, saw him going, and cried in to the others in the house:"Makíte has gone up into the hills to live there all alone. Go after him."

The many brothers went out after him, but when they had nearly come up with him, he made his steps longer, and thus got farther and farther away from them, and at last they ceased to pursue him any more.

On his way he came to a house, and this was just as it was beginning to get light. He looked in, and saw that the hangings on the walls were of nothing but reindeer and foxes' skins. And now he said to himself: "Hum—I may as well go in."

But as he went in, the hinge of the door creaked, and then a strange, deep sound was heard inside the house, and it began to shake.

At the same moment, the master of the house came in and said: "Have you had nothing to eat yet?"

Makíte said: "I will eat nothing until I know what are those things which look like candles, there in front of the window."

Then the lone-dweller said: "That is no concern of one who is not himself a lone-dweller. Therefore he cannot tell you."

But then Makíte said: "If you do not tell me, I will kill you."

And then at last he told.

"It may be you have seen today the great hills away in the blue to the south; if you go up to the top of the nearer hill, you will find nothing there, but he who climbs that one which lies farther away, and reaches the top, he will find such things there. But this cannot be done by one who is not a lone-dweller."

And not until he had said all this did Makíte eat.

Then they both went to rest. And just as he was near falling asleep, the lone-dweller began to quiver slightly, but he pretended to sleep. And before Makíte could see what he was about, the lone-dweller had strung his bow, and Makíte, therefore, seeing he was preparing to kill him, pretended to wake up, and then the other laid aside his bow so quickly that it seemed as if he had not held anything at all.

At last, when it was nearly dawn, the lone-dweller fell asleep, and then Makíte tried very cautiously to get out, but as he was about to pass through the doorway, he again happened to draw the door to after him, and again it creaked as before with a strange sound. When he looked in through the window, the lone-dweller was about to get up.

Now Makíte had laid his great spear a little way above the house, and he ran to the place. When he looked round, he saw that the man from the house was already in chase. Then he came to a big rock, and as there was no help for it, he commenced to run round. When he had run round it for the third time, he grasped his harpoon firmly, and without turning round, thrust it out behind him, and struck something soft. He had struck the other in the side.

Having now killed this one, and as there was no help for it, he wandered on at hazard, and came to a great plain. And in the middle of the plain was something which looked like a house. And he went up to it and found it was the house of a dwarf, and no end of people coming out of it. One went in and another came out, and so they kept on. He tried to get into the passage, but could not even get his foot in.

Then he heard someone inside saying: "Heave up the passage way a little with your back, and then come in."

When he came in, it was a big place, and the old creature spoke to him, and said: "When you go out, look towards the west; the inland-dwellers are coming."

And when Makíte went out, he looked towards the west, and there he saw a great black thing approaching, and when he then came in again, the old man went to the window and called out: "Here they are; they are close up now."

And then the dwarfs went out to fight and took up their posts on the plain, one party opposite the other, and none said a word.

But suddenly the dog that was with the inland folk gave a great bark, and there came a mighty wave of water, rolling right up to the dwarfs.

But when it had come quite close to them, it suddenly grew quite small. And then the dwarfs' dog gave a bark. And at the same time the dwarfs' wave arose, and washed right up over the inland folk, and drowned them, and only few of them escaped alive.

When they came home again, Makíte built himself a house, and from the high hill fetched some of those things which looked like candles, and hung them up in his house. And he lived there in his house until he died.

And here ends this story.

Next: Atungait, Who Went A-Wandering

(1000 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Atungait, Who Went A-Wandering

As Rasmussen explains his note, ajangat is "a game played with rings and a stick; the 'ring and pin game.'" You can read more about Inuit games here: Inuit Ball Games.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

(Inuit seal hunting)

Atungait, Who Went A-Wandering

ATUNGAIT, that great man, had once, it is said, a fancy to go out on a sledge trip with a strong woman. He took a ribbon seal and had it flayed, and forbade his wife to scrape the meat side clean, so that the skin might be as thick as possible. And so he had it dried.

When the winter had come, he went out to visit a tribe well known for their eagerness in playing foothall. He stayed among them for some time, and watched the games, carefully marking who was strongest among the players.

And he saw that there was one among them a woman small of stature, who yet always contrived to snatch the ball from the others. Therefore he gave her the great thick skin he had brought with him, and told her to knead it soft. And this she did, though no other woman could have done it. Then he took her on his sledge and drove off on a wandering through the lands around.

On their way they came to a high and steep rock, rising up from the open water. Atungait sprang up on to that rock, and began running up it. So strong was he that at every step he bored his feet far down into the rock.

When he reached the top, he called to his dogs, and one by one they followed by the way of his footsteps, and reached the top, all of them save one, and that one died. And after that he hoisted up his sledge first, and then his wife after, and so they drove on their way.

After they had driven for some time, they came to a place of people. And the strange thing about these people was that they were all left-handed.

And then they drove on again and came to some man-eaters; these ate one another, having no other food. But they did not succeed in doing him any harm.

And they drove on again and came to other people; these had all one leg shorter than the other, and had been so from birth. They lay on the ground all day playing ajangat. And they had a fine ajangat made of copper.

Atungait stayed there some time, and when the time came for him to set out once more, he stole their plaything and took it away with him, having first destroyed all their sledges.

But the lame ones, being unable to pursue, dealt magically with some rocky ridges, which then rushed over the ice towards the travellers.

Atungait heard something like the rushing of a river, and turning round, perceived those rocks rolling towards him.

"Have you a piece of sole-leather?" he asked his wife. And she had such a piece. She tied it to a string and let it drag behind the sledge.

When the stones reached it, they stopped suddenly, and sank down through the ice. And the two drove on, hearing the cries of the lame ones behind them: "Bring back our plaything, and give us our copper thing again."

But now Atungait began to long for his home and, not knowing in what part of the land they were, he told the woman with him to wait, while he himself flew off through the air. For he was a great wizard.

He soon found his house, and looked in through the window. And there sat his wife, rubbing noses with a strange man.

"Huh! You are not afraid of wearing away your nose, it seems." So he cried.

On hearing this, the wife rushed out of the house, and there she met her husband.

"You have grown clever at kissing," he said.

"No, I have not kissed any one," she cried.

Then Atungait grasped her roughly and killed her, because she had lied.

The strange man also came out now, and Atungait went towards him at once.

"You were kissing inside there, I see," he said.

"Yes," said the stranger. And Atungait let him live, because he spoke the truth.

And after that he flew back to the strong woman and made her his wife.

Next: The Giant Dog

(700 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: The Giant Dog

Here are the notes Rasmussen provides for the two images: "(1) An 'inland-dweller,' half dog, half human, pointing out a settlement for destruction. (2) A tupilak frightening a man to death in his kayak."

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

The Giant Dog

THERE was once a man who had a giant dog. It could swim in the sea and was so big that it could haul whale and narwhal to shore. The narwhal it would hook on to its side teeth, and swim with them hanging there.

The man who owned it had cut holes in its jaws and let in thongs through those holes so that he could make it turn to either side by pulling at the thongs. And when he and his wife desired to go journeying to any place, they had only to mount on its back.

The man had long wished to have a son, but as none was born to him, he gave his great dog the amulet which his son should have had. This amulet was a knot of hard wood, and the dog was thus made hard to resist the coming of death.

Once the dog ate a man, and then the owner of the dog was forced to leave that place and take land elsewhere. And while he was living in this new place, there came one day a kayak rowing in towards the land, and the man hastened to take up his dog, lest it should eat the stranger. He led it away far up into the hills, and gave it a great bone that it might have something to gnaw at, and thus be kept busy.

But one day the dog smelt out the stranger and came down from the hills, and then the man was forced to hide away the stranger and his kayak in a far place, lest the dog should tear them in pieces, for it was very fierce.

Now because the dog was so big and fierce, the man had many enemies. And once a stranger came driving in a sledge with three dogs as big as bears to kill the giant dog. The man went out to meet that sledge, and the dog followed behind him. The dog pretended to be afraid at first, but then, when the stranger's dog set upon it in attack, it turned against them, and crushed the skulls of all three in its teeth.

After a time, the man noticed that his giant dog would go off, now and again, for long journeys in the hills and would sometimes return with the leg of an inland-dweller. And now he understood that the dog had made it a custom to attack the inland-dwellers and bring back their legs to its master. He could see that the legs were legs of inland-dwellers, for they wore hairy boots.

And it is from this giant dog that the inland-dwellers got their great fear of all dogs. It would always appear suddenly at the window, and drag them out. But it was a good thing that something happened to frighten the inland-dwellers, for they had themselves an evil custom of carrying off lonely folk, especially women, when they had lost their way in the fog.

And that is all I know about the Giant Dog.

Next: Papik, Who Killed His Wife's Brother

(500 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Papik, Who Killed His Wife's Brother

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

(Inuit seal-skin home / tupiq)

Papik, Who Killed His Wife's Brother

THERE was once a man whose name was Papik, and it was his custom to go out hunting with his wife's brother, whose name was Ailaq. But whenever those two went out hunting together, it was always Ailaq who came home with seal in tow, while Papik returned empty-handed. And day by day his envy grew.

Then one day it happened that Ailaq did not return at all. And Papik was silent at his home-coming.

At last, late in the evening, that old woman who was Ailaq's mother began to speak. "You have killed Ailaq."

"No, I did not kill him," answered Papik.

Then the old woman rose up and cried: "You killed him, and said no word. The day shall yet come when I will eat you alive, for you killed Ailaq, you and no other."

And now the old woman made ready to die for it was as a ghost she thought to avenge her son. She took her bearskin coverlet over her, and went and sat down on the shore, close to the water, and let the tide come up and cover her.

For a long time after this, Papik did not go out hunting at all, so greatly did he fear the old woman's threat. But at last he ceased to think of the matter, and began to go out hunting as before.

One day two men stood out on the ice by the breathing holes. Papik had chosen his place a little farther off, and stood there alone. And then it came. They heard the snow creaking, with the sound of a cry, and the sound moved towards Papik, and a fog came down over the ice. And soon they heard shouts as of one in a fury, and the screaming of one in fear; the monster had fallen upon Papik to devour him.

And now they fled in towards land, swerving wide to keep away from what was happening there. On their way, they met sledges with hunters setting out; they threw down their gear and urged the others to return to their own place at once, lest they also should be slain by fear.

When they reached their village, all gathered together in one house. But soon they heard the monster coming nearer over the ice, and then all hurried to the entrance, and crowding together, grew yet more greatly stricken with fear. And pressing thus against each other, they struggled so hard that one fatherless boy was thrust aside and fell into a tub full of blood. When he got up, the blood poured from his clothes, and wherever they went, the snow was marked with blood.

"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.

Next: Pâtussorssuaq, Who Killed His Uncle

(700 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Pâtussorssuaq, Who Killed His Uncle

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

Pâtussorssuaq, Who Killed His Uncle

THERE lived a woman at Kûgkat, and she was very beautiful, and Alátaq was he who had her to wife. And at the same place lived Pâtussorssuaq, and Alátaq was his uncle. He also had a wife, but was yet fonder of his uncle's wife than of his own.

But one day in the spring, Alátaq was going out on a long hunting journey, and made up his mind to take his wife with him. They were standing at the edge of the ice, ready to start, when Pâtussorssuaq came down to them.

"Are you going away?" he asked.

"Yes, both of us," answered Alátaq.

But when Pâtussorssuaq heard thus, he fell upon his uncle and killed him at once, for he could not bear to see the woman go away.

When Pâtussorssuaq's wife saw this, she snatched up her needle and sewing ring, and fled away, following the shadow of the tent, over the hills to the place where her parents lived. She had not even time to put on her skin stockings, and therefore her feet grew sore with treading the hills. On her way up inland she saw people running about with their hoods loose on their heads, as is the manner of the inland folk, but she had no dealings with them, for they fled away.

Then, coming near at last to her own place, she saw an old man, and running up, she found it was her father, who was out in search of birds. And the two went gladly back to his tent.

Now when Pâtussorssuaq had killed his uncle, he at once went up to his own tent, thinking to kill his own wife, for he was already weary of her. But she had fled away.

Inside the tent sat a boy, and Pâtussorssuaq fell upon him, crying: "Where is she? Where is she gone?"

"I have seen nothing for I was asleep," cried the boy, speaking falsely because of his great fear. And so Pâtussorssuaq was forced to desist from seeking out his wife.

And now he went down and took Alátaq's wife and lived with her. But after a little time, she died. And thus he had but little joy of the woman he had won by misdeed. And he himself was soon to suffer in another way.

At the beginning of the summer, many people were gathered at Natsivilik, and among them was Pâtussorssuaq. One day a strange thing happened to him, while he was out hunting: a fox snapped at the fringe of his coat, and he, thinking it to be but a common fox, struck out at it, but did not hit.

(arctic fox, photo by Will Brown)

And afterwards it was revealed that this was the soul of dead Alátaq, playing with him a little before killing him outright. For Alátaq's amulet was a fox.

And a little time after, he was bitten to death by the ghost of Alátaq, coming upon him in the shape of a bear. His daughter, who was outside at that time, heard the cries, and went in to tell of what she had heard, but just as she came into the house, behold, she had quite forgotten all that she wished to say. And this was because that vengeful spirit had by magic means called down forgetfulness upon her.

Afterwards she remembered it, but then it was too late. They found Pâtussorssuaq torn to pieces, torn limb from limb; he had tried to defend himself with great pieces of ice, as they could see, but all in vain.

Thus punishment falls upon the man who kills.

Next: The Wife Who Lied

(600 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: The Wife Who Lied

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

The Wife Who Lied

NAVARÁNÂPALUK, men say, came of a tribe of man-eaters, but when she grew up, she was taken to wife by one of a tribe that did not eat men.

Once when she was going off on a visit to her own people, she put mittens on her feet instead of boots. And this she did in order to make it appear that her husband's people had dealt ill by her.

It was midwinter, and her kinsfolk pitied her greatly when they saw her come to them thus. And they agreed to make war against the tribe to which her husband belonged.

So they set out, and came to that village at a time when all the men were away, and only the women at home; these they took and slew, and only three escaped. One of them had covered herself with the skin which she was dressing when they came, the second had hidden herself in a box used for dog's meat, and the third had crept into a store shed.

When the men came home, they found all their womenfolk killed, and at once they thought of Navaránâpaluk, who had fled away. And they were the more angered that the slayers had hoisted the bodies of the women on long poles with the points stuck through them.

They fell to at once making ready for war against those enemies, and prepared arrows in great numbers. The three women who were left alive plaited sinew thread to fix the points of the arrows; and so eagerly did they work that at last no more flesh was left on their fingers, and the naked bone showed through.

When all things were ready, they set out, and coming up behind the houses of their enemies, they hid themselves among great rocks. The slayers had kept watch since their return, believing that the avengers would not fail to come, and the women took turns at the watching.

And now it is said that one old woman among them had a strange dream. She dreamed that two creatures were fighting above her head. And when she told the others of this, they all agreed that the avengers must be near. They gathered together in one house to ask counsel of the spirits, and when the spirit calling had commenced, then suddenly a dog upon the roof of the house began to bark.

The men dashed out, but their enemies had already surrounded the house, and now set about to take their full revenge, shooting down every man with arrows. At last, when they were no more left, they chose themselves wives from among the widows, and bore them off to their own place.

But two of them took Navaránâpaluk and hurried off with her.

And she, thinking that both wished to have her to wife, cried out: "Which is it to be? Which is it to be?"

The men laughed, and made no answer, but ran on with her.

Then suddenly they cut through both her arms with their knives. And soon she fell, and the blood went from her, and she died.

This fate they meted out to her because she lied.

Next: The Eagle and the Whale

(500 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: The Eagle and the Whale

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

The Eagle and the Whale

IN a certain village there lived many brothers. And they had two sisters, both of an age to marry, and often urged them to take husband, but they would not.

At last one of the men said: "What sort of a husband do you want, then? An eagle, perhaps? Very well, an eagle you shall have."

This he said to the one. And to the other he said: "And you perhaps would like a whale? Well, a whale you shall have."

And then suddenly a great eagle came in sight, and it swooped down on the young girl and flew off with her to a high ledge of rock. And a whale also came in sight, and carried off the other sister, carrying her likewise to a ledge of rock.

After that the eagle and the girl lived together on a ledge of rock far up a high steep cliff. The eagle flew out over the sea to hunt, and while he was away, his wife would busy herself plaiting sinews for a line wherewith to lower herself down the rock. And while she was busied with that work, the eagle would sometimes appear, with a walrus in one claw and a narwhal in the other.

One day she tried the line, with which she was to lower herself down; it was too short. And so she plaited more.

But as time went on, the brothers began to long for their sister. And they all set to work making crossbows.

And there was in that village a little homeless boy who was so small that he had not strength to draw a bow, but must get one of the others to draw it for him every time he wanted to shoot. When they had made all things ready, they went out to the place where their sister was and called to her from the foot of the cliff, telling her to lower herself down. And this she did. As soon as her husband had gone out hunting, she lowered herself down and reached her brothers.

Towards evening, the eagle appeared out at sea, with a walrus in each claw, and as he passed the house of his wife's brothers, he dropped one down to them. But when he came home, his wife was gone. Then he simply threw his catch away and flew, gliding on widespread wings, down to where those brothers were. But whenever the eagle tried to fly down to the house, they shot at it with their bows. And as none of them could hit, the little homeless boy cried: "Let me try too!"

And then one of the others had to bend his bow for him. But when he shot off his arrow, it struck. And when then the eagle came fluttering down to earth, the others shot so many arrows at it that it could not quite touch the ground.

Thus they killed their sister's husband, who was a mighty hunter.

But the other sister and the whale lived together likewise. And the whale was very fond of her and would hardly let her out of his sight for a moment.

But the girl here likewise began to feel homesick, and she also began plaiting a line of sinew threads, and her brothers, who were likewise beginning to long for their sister, set about making a swift-sailing umiak.

(whaling expedition in umiak)

And when they had finished it, and got it into the water, they said: "Now let us see how fast it can go."

And then they got a guillemot which had its nest close by to fly beside them, while they tried to out distance it by rowing. But when it flew past them, they cried: "This will not do; the whale would overtake us at once. We must take this boat to pieces and build a new one." And so they took that boat to pieces and built a new one.

Then they put it in the water again and once more let the bird fly a race with them. And now the two kept side by side all the way, but when they neared the land, the bird was left behind.

One day the girl said as usual to the whale: "I must go outside a little."

"Stay here," said her husband, that great one.

"But I must go outside," said the girl.

Now he had a string tied to her, and this he would pull when he wanted her to come in again. And hardly had she got outside when he began pulling at the string.

"I am only just outside the passage," she cried. And then she tied the string by which she was held, to a stone, and ran away as fast as she could down hill, and the whale hauled at the stone, thinking it was his wife, and pulled it in.

The brothers' house was just below the hillside where she was, and as soon as she came home, they fled away with her. But at the same moment, the whale came out from the passage way of its house, and rolled down into the sea. The umiak dashed off, but it seemed as if it were standing still, so swiftly did the whale overhaul it. And when the whale had nearly reached them, the brothers said to their sister: "Throw out your hairband."

And hardly had she thrown it out when the sea foamed up, and the whale stopped. Then it went on after them again, and when it came up just behind the boat, the brothers said: "Throw out one of your mittens."

And she threw it out, and the sea foamed up, and the whale pounced down on it. And then she threw out the inner lining of one of her mittens, and then her outer frock and then her inner coat, and now they were close to land, but the whale was almost upon them. Then the brothers cried: "Throw out your breeches!"

And at the same moment the sea was lashed into foam, but the umiak had reached the land. And the whale tried to follow, but was cast up on the shore as a white and sun-bleached bone of a whale.

Next: Atdlarneq, The Great Glutton

(1000 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Atdlarneq, The Great Glutton

Here is Rasmussen's note to the story: "There is a fabulous being in Eskimo folklore supposed to have cheeks of copper, with which he can deliver terrible blows by a side movement of the head. Naughty children are frequently threatened with Copper-cheeks as a kind of bogey."

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

(Inuit man in kayak)

Atdlarneq, The Great Glutton

THIS is told of Atdlarneq: that he was a strong man, and if he rowed but a little way out in his kayak, he caught a seal. On no day did he fail to make a catch, and he was never content with only one.

But one day when he should have been out hunting seal, he only paddled along close to the shore, making towards the south. On the way he sighted a cape, and made towards it; and when he could see the sunny side, he spied a little house, quite near.

He thought: "I must wait until some one comes out."

And while he lay there, with his paddle touching the shore, a woman came out; she had a yellow band round her hair, and yellow seams to all her clothes.

Now he would have gone on shore, but he thought: "I had better wait until another one comes out." And as he thought this, there came another woman out of the house. And like the first, she also had a yellow hair band, and yellow seams to all her clothes.

And he did not go on shore, but thought again: "I can wait for just one more."

And truly enough, there came yet another one, quite like the others. And like them also, she bore a dish in her hand. And now at last he went on shore and hauled up his kayak.

He went into the house, and they all received him very kindly. And they brought great quantities of food and set before him.

At last the evening came.

And now those three women began to go outside again and again. And at last Atdlarneq asked: "Why do you keep going out like that?"

When he asked them this, all answered at once: "It is because we now expect our dear master home."

When he heard this, he was afraid, and hid himself behind the skin hangings. And he had hardly crawled in there when that master came home; Atdlarneq looked through a little hole, and saw him. And his cheeks were made of copper.

He had but just sat down, when he began to sniff, and said: "Hum! There is a smell of people here."

And now Atdlarneq crawled out, seeing that the other had already smelt him. He had hardly shown himself, when the other asked very eagerly: "Has he had nothing to eat yet?"

"No, he has not yet eaten."

"Then bring food at once."

And then they brought in a sack full of fish, and a big piece of blubber from the half of a black seal. And then the man said violently: "You are to eat this all up, and if you do not eat it all up, I will thrash you with my copper cheeks!"

And now Atdlarneq began eagerly chewing blubber with his fish; he chewed and chewed, and at last he had eaten it all up. Then he went to the water bucket, and lifted it to his mouth and drank, and drank it all to the last drop.

Hardly had be done this when the man said: "And now the frozen meat."

And they brought in the half of a black seal. And Atdlarneq ate and ate until there was no more left, save a very little piece. When the man saw there was some not eaten, he cried out violently again: "Give him some more to eat."

And when Atdlarneq had eaten again for a while, he did not wish to eat more. But then they brought in a whole black seal. And the man set that also before him, and cried: "Eat that up too."

And so Atdlarneq was forced to stuff himself mightily once more. He ate and ate, and at last he had eaten it all up. And again he emptied the water bucket.

After all that he felt very well indeed, and seemed hardly to have eaten until now. But that was because he had swallowed a little stalk of grass before he began.

So Atdlarneq slept, and next morning he went back home again. But after having thus nearly gorged himself to death, he never went southward again.

Next: Ángángŭjuk

(700 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Ángángŭjuk

Rasmussen's caption for the image reads: "Wizard calling up a 'helping spirit.'"

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

Ángángŭjuk

IT is said that Ángángŭjuk's father was very strong. They had no other neighbours, but lived there three of them all alone. One day when the mother was going to scrape meat from a skin, she let the child play at kayak outside in the passage, near the entrance. And now and again she called to him: "Ángángŭjuk!" And the child would answer from outside.

And once she called in this way, and called again, for there came no answer. And when no answer came again, she left the skin she was scraping and began to search about. But she could not find the child. And now she began to feel greatly afraid, dreading her husband's return. And while she stood there feeling great fear of her husband, he came out from behind a rock, dragging a seal behind him.

Then he came forward and said: "Where is our little son?"

"He vanished away from me this morning, after you had gone, when he was playing kayak-man out in the passage."

And when she had said this, her husband answered: "It is you, wicked old hag, who have killed him. And now I will kill you."

To this his wife answered: "Do not kill me yet, but wait a little, and first seek out one who can ask counsel of the spirits."

And now the husband began eagerly to search for such a one. He came home bringing wizards with him,and bade them try what they could do, and when they could not find the child, he let them go without giving them so much as a bite of meat.

And seeing that none of them could help him, he now sought for a very clever finder of hidden things and, meeting such a one at last, he took him home. Then he fastened a stick to his face and made him lie down on the bedplace on his back.

And now he worked away with him until the spirit came. And when this had happened, the spirit finder declared: "It would seem that spirits have here found a difficult task. He is up in a place between two great cliffs, and two old inland folk are looking after him."

Then they stopped calling spirits, and wandered away towards the east. They walked and walked, and at last they sighted a lot of houses. And when they came nearer, they saw the smoke coming out from all the smoke holes. It was the heat from inside coming out so. And the father looked in through a window, and saw that they were quarrelling about his child, and the child was crying.

"Who is to look after him?"

So he heard them saying inside the house; each one was eager to have the child. When the father saw this, he was very angry.

And the people inside asked the child: "What would you like to eat?"

"No," said the child.

"Will you have seal meat?"

"No," said the child.

And there was nothing he cared to have. Therefore they asked him at last: "Do you want to go home very much?"

Ángángŭjuk answered quickly: "Yes."

And his father was very greatly angered by now. And said to those with him: "Try now to magic them to sleep."

And now the wizard began calling down a magic sleep upon those in the hut, and one by one they sank to sleep and began to snore. And fewer and fewer remained awake; at last there were only two. But then one of those two began to yawn, and at last rolled over and snored.

And now the great finder of hidden things began calling down sleep with all his might over that one remaining. And at last he too began to move towards the sleeping place. Then he began to yawn a little, and at last he also rolled over.

Now Ángángŭjuk's father went in quickly, and now he caught up his son. But now the child had no clothes on. And looking for them, he saw them hung up on the drying frame. But the house was so high that they had to poke down the clothes with poles.

At last they came out, and walked and walked and came farther on. And it was now beginning to be light. As soon as they came to the place, they cut the moorings of the umiak, and hastily made all ready, and rowed out to the farthest islands. They had just moved away from land when they saw a number of people opposite the house.

But when the inland folk saw they had already moved out from the land, they went up to the house and beat it down, beating down roof and walls and all that there was of it.

After that time, Ángángŭjuk's parents never again took up their dwelling on the mainland.

Here ends this story.

Next: târssuaq

(800 words)

Eskimo Folk-Tales: Âtârssuaq

This story is part of the Eskimo Folk Tales unit. Story source: Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

(Inuit family)

Âtârssuaq

ÂTÂRSSUAQ had many enemies. But his many enemies tried in vain to hurt him, and they could not kill him.

Then it happened that his wife bore him a son. Âtârssuaq came back from his hunting one day, and found that he had a son. Then he took that son of his and bore him down to the water and threw him in. And waited until he began to kick out violently, and then took him up again. And so he did with him every day for long after, while the child was growing. And thus the boy became a very clever swimmer.

And one day Âtârssuaq caught a fjord seal, and took off the skin all in one piece, and dried it like a bladder, and made his son put it on when he went swimming.

One day he felt a wish to see how clever the boy had become. And said to him therefore: "Go out now and swim, and I will follow after you."

And the father brought down his kayak and set it in the water, and his son watched him. And then he said: "Now you swim out." And he made his father follow him out to sea, while he swam more and more under water. As soon as he came to the surface, his father rowed to where he was, but every time he took his throwing stick to cast a small harpoon, he disappeared.

And when his father thought they had done this long enough, he said: "Now swim back to land, but keep under water as much as you can."

The son dived down, but it was a long time before he came up again. And now his father was greatly afraid. But at last the boy came up, a long way off. And then he rowed up to where he was, and laid one hand on his head, and said: "Clever diver, clever diver, dear little clever one."

And then he sniffed.

And a second time he said to him: "Now swim under water a very long way this time."

So he dived down, and his father rowed forward all the time to come to the place where he should rise, and feeling already afraid. His face moved as if he were beginning to cry, and he said: "If only the sharks have not found him!" And he had just begun to cry when his son came up again. And then they went in to land, and the boy did not dive any more that day.

So clever had he now become.

And one day his father did not come back from his hunting. This was because of his enemies, who had killed him. Evening came, and next morning there was a kayak from the north.

When it came in to the shore, the boy went down and said: "Tomorrow the many brothers will come to kill you all."And the kayak turned at once and went back without coming on shore.

Night passed and morning came. And in the morning when the boy awoke, he went to look out, and again, and many times. Once when he came out he saw many kayaks appearing from the northward. Then he went in and said to his mother: "Now many kayaks are coming, to kill us all."

"Then put on your swimming dress," said his mother.

And he did so, and went down to the shore, and did not stop until he was quite close to the water. When the kayaks then saw him, they all rowed towards him, and said: "He has fallen into the water."

When they came to the place where he had fallen in, they all began looking about for him, and while they were doing this, he came up just in front of the bone-shoeing on the nose of one of the kayaks which lay quite away from the rest. When they spied him, each tried to outdo the others, and cried: "Here he is!"

But then he dived down again. And this he continued to do. And in this manner he led all those kayaks out to the open sea, and when they had come a great way out, they sighted an iceberg which had run aground.

When Âtârssuaq's son came to this, he climbed up by sticking his hands into the ice. And up above were two large pieces. And when he came close to the iceberg, he heard those in the kayaks saying among themselves:"We can cut steps in the ice, and climb up to him."

And they began cutting steps in the iceberg, and at last the ice pick of the foremost came up over the edge. But now the boy took one of the great pieces of ice and threw it down upon them as they crawled up, so that it sent them all down again as it fell.

And again he heard them say: "It would be very foolish not to kill him. Let us climb up, and try to reach him this time."

And then they began crawling up one after another. But now the boy began as before, shifting the great piece of ice. And he waited until the head of the foremost one came up, and then he let it fall. And this time he also killed all those who had climbed on to the iceberg, after he had so lured them on to follow him.

But the others now turned back, and said: "He will kill us all if we do not go."

And now the boy jumped down from the iceberg and swam to the kayaks and began tugging at their paddles, so that they turned over. But the men righted themselves again with their throwing sticks. And at last he was forced to hold them down himself under water till they drowned.

And soon there were left no more of all those many kayaks, save only one. And when he looked closer, he saw that the man had no weapon but a stick for killing fish. And he rowed weeping in towards land, that man with no weapon but a stick.

Then the boy pulled the paddle away from him, and he cried very much at that. Then he began paddling with his hands. But the boy gripped his hands from below, and then the man began crying furiously and dared no longer put his hands in the water at all. And weeping very greatly he said: "It is ill for me that ever I came out on this errand for it is plain that I am to be killed."

The boy looked at him a little. And then said: "You I will not kill. You may go home again." And he gave him back his paddle, and said to him as he was rowing away: "Tell those of your place never to come out again thinking to kill us. For if they do not one of them will return alive."

Then Âtârssuaq's son went home. And for some time he waited, thinking that more enemies might come. But none ever came against them after that time.

Next: Tungujuluk and Saunikoq

(1200 words)

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