Jack London
 


   Keesh, Son of Keesh

    From Children Of the Frost


    "Thus will I give six blankets, warm and double; six files, large and hard;
six Hudson Bay knives, keen-edged and long; two canoes, the work of Mogum,  The
Maker of Things; ten dogs, heavy-shouldered and  strong  in  the  harness;  and 
three guns—the trigger of one be broken, but it is a good gun and can doubtless 
be mended."
    Keesh paused and swept his eyes over the circle of intent faces. It was the
time of the Great Fishing, and he was bidding to Gnob for Su- Su his  daughter.
The place was the St. George Mission by the Yukon, and the tribes had  gathered
for many a hundred miles. From north, south, east, and west they had come, even 
from Tozikakat and far Tana-naw.
    "And further, O Gnob, thou art chief of the Tana-naw; and I, Keesh, the son 
of Keesh, am chief of the Thlunget. Wherefore, when my seed  springs  from  the 
loins of thy daughter, there shall be a friendship between the tribes, a  great
friendship, and Tana-naw and Thlunget shall be brothers of  the  blood  in  the
time to come. What I have said I will do, that will I do. And how  is  it  with
you, O Gnob, in this matter?"
    Gnob nodded his head gravely, his gnarled and age-twisted face  inscrutably
masking the soul that dwelt behind. His narrow  eyes  burned  like  twin  coals
through their narrow slits, as he piped in a high- cracked voice, "But that  is
not all."
    "What more?" Keesh demanded. "Have I not offered full  measure?  Was  there 
ever yet a Tana-naw maiden who fetched so great a price?  Then  name  her!  "An 
open snicker passed round the circle, and Keesh knew that  he  stood  in  shame 
before these people.
    "Nay, nay, good Keesh,  thou  cost  not  understand."  Gnob  made  a  soft, 
stroking gesture. "The price is fair. It is a good price. Nor do I question the 
broken trigger. But that is not all. What of the man ?"
    "Ay, what of the man ?" the circle snarled.
    "It is said," Gnob's shrill voice piped, "it is said that  Keesh  does  not 
walk in the way of his fathers. It is said that he has wandered into the  dark,
after strange gods, and that he is become afraid."
    The face of Keesh went dark. "It is a lie!" he thundered. "Keesh is  afraid 
of no man !"
    "It is said," old Gnob piped on, "that he has harkened to the speech of the
white man up at the Big House, and that he bends head to the white  man's  god,
and, moreover, that blood is displeasing to the white man's god."
    Keesh dropped his eyes, and his hands  clenched  passionately.  The  savage 
circle laughed derisively, and in the ear of Gnob whispered Madwan, the shaman,
high-priest of the tribe and maker of medicine.
    The shaman poked among the shadows on the rim of the firelight  and  roused 
up a slender young boy, whom he brought face to face with  Keesh;  and  in  the 
hand of Keesh he thrust a knife.
    Gnob leaned forward. "Keesh! O Keesh! Darest thou to kill  a  man?  Behold! 
This be Kitz-noo, a slave. Strike, O Keesh, strike with  the  strength  of  thy 
arm!"
    The boy trembled and waited the stroke. Keesh looked at him,  and  thoughts 
of Mr. Brown's higher morality floated through his mind, and  strong  upon  him 
was a vision of the leaping flames of Mr. Brown's  particular  brand  of  hell-
fire. The knife fell to the ground, and the boy sighed and went out beyond  the
firelight with shaking knees. At the feet of Gnob sprawled  a  wolf-dog,  which
bared its gleaming teeth and prepared to spring after the boy. But  the  shaman
ground his foot into the brute's body, and so doing, gave Gnob an idea.
    "And then, O Keesh, what wouldst thou do, should a man  do  this  thing  to 
you?" - as he spoke, Gnob held a ribbon of salmon to White Fang, and  when  the
animal attempted to take it, smote him sharply on the nose with a  stick.  "And
afterward, O Keesh, wouldst thou do thus ?" - White Fang was cringing  back  on
his belly and fawning to the hand of Gnob.
    "Listen!" - leaning on the arm of Madwan, Gnob had risen to his feet. "I am 
very old, and because I am very old I will tell thee things. Thy father, Keesh, 
was a mighty man. And he did love the song of  the  bowstring  in  battle,  and 
these eyes have beheld him cast a spear till the head stood out beyond a  man's 
body. But thou art unlike. Since thou left the Raven to worship the Wolf,  thou 
art become afraid of blood, and thou makest thy  people  afraid.  This  is  not 
good. For behold, when I was a boy, even as Kitz-noo there, there was no  white 
man in all the land. But they came, one by one, these white men, till now  they 
are many. And they are a restless breed, never content to rest by the fire with 
a full belly and let the morrow bring its own meat. A curse was laid upon them,
it would seem, and they must work it out in toil and hardship."
    Keesh was startled. A recollection of a hazy story told by Mr. Brown of one
Adam, of old time, came to him, and it seemed that Mr. Brown had spoken true.
    "So they lay hands upon all they behold,  these  white  men,  and  they  go
everywhere and behold all things. And ever do more follow in  their  steps,  so
that if nothing be done they will come to possess all the land and  there  will 
be no room for the tribes of the Raven. Wherefore it is meet that we fight with 
them till none are left. Then will we hold the passes and the land, and perhaps 
our children and our children's children shall flourish and grow fat. There  is 
a great struggle to come, when Wolf and Raven shall grapple; but Keesh will not 
fight, nor will he let his people fight. So it is not well that he should  take 
to him my daughter. Thus have I spoken, I, Gnob, chief of the Tana-naw."
    "But the white men are good and great," Keesh made answer. "The  white  men 
have taught us many things. The white men have given us blankets and knives and
guns, such as we have never made and never  could  make.  I  remember  in  what 
manner we lived before they came. I was unborn then, but  I  have  it  from  my
father. When we went on the hunt we must creep  so  close  to  the  moose  that 
a spear-cast would cover the distance. To-day we use the white man's rifle, and
farther away than can a child's  cry  be  heard.  We  ate  fish  and  meat  and 
berries - there was nothing else to eat—and we ate without salt.  How  many  be
there among you who care to go back to the fish and meat without salt ?"
    It would have sunk home, had not Madwan leaped  to  his  feet  ere  silence 
could come. "And first a question to thee, Keesh. The white man up at  the  Big 
House tells you that it is wrong to kill. Yet do we not know that the white men
kill? Have we forgotten the great fight on the Koyokuk? or the great  fight  at
Nuklukyeto, where three white men killed twenty of the Tozikakats? Do you think 
we no longer remember the  three  men  of  the  Tana-naw  that  the  white  man 
Macklewrath killed ? Tell me, O Keesh, why does the Shaman Brown teach you that 
it is wrong to fight, when all his brothers fight?"
    "Nay, nay, there is no need to answer," Gnob piped, while  Keesh  struggled 
with the paradox. "It is very simple. The Good Man Brown would hold  the  Raven 
tight whilst his brothers pluck the feathers." He raised  his  voice.  "But  so 
long as there is one Tana-naw to strike a blow, or one maiden to  bear  a  man-
child, the Raven shall not be plucked!"
    Gnob turned to a husky young man across the fire. "And  what  sayest  thou,
Makamuk, who art brother to Su-Su?"
    Makamuk came to his feet. A  long  face-scar  lifted  his  upper  lip  into 
a perpetual grin which belied the glowing ferocity of his eyes. "This day,"  he
began with cunning irrelevance, "I came by the Trader Macklewrath's cabin.  And
in the door I saw a child laughing at the sun. And the child looked at me  with
the Trader Macklewrath's eyes, and it was frightened. The mother ran to it  and
quieted it. The mother was Ziska, the Thlunget woman."
    A snarl of rage rose up and drowned his voice, which he stilled by  turning
dramatically upon Keesh with outstretched arm and accusing finger.
    "So? You give your women away, you Thlunget, and come to the  Tana-naw  for
more? But we have need of our women, Keesh; for we must breed  men,  many  men,
against the day when the Raven grapples with the Wolf."
    Through the storm of applause, Gnob's  voice  shrilled  clear.  "And  thou,
Nossabok, who art her favorite brother?"
    The young fellow was slender and graceful, with the  strong  aquiline  nose 
and high brows of his type; but from some nervous affliction the lid of one eye
drooped at odd times in a suggestive wink. Even as he arose it so  drooped  and
rested a moment against his cheek. But it was not greeted with  the  accustomed
laughter. Every face was grave. "I, too, passed  by  the  Trader  Macklewrath's
cabin," he rippled in soft, girlish tones, wherein there was much of youth  and
much of his sister. "And I saw Indians with the sweat running into  their  eyes
and their knees shaking with weariness—I say, I saw Indians groaning under  the
logs for the store which the Trader Macklewrath is to build. And with my eyes I 
saw them chopping wood to keep the Shaman Brown's Big House  warm  through  the
frost of the long nights. This be squaw work. Never shall the Tana-naw  do  the
like. We shall be blood brothers to  men,  not  squaws;  and  the  Thlunget  be 
squaws."
    A deep silence fell, and all eyes centred on Keesh.  He  looked  about  him
carefully, deliberately, full into the face of each grown man.  "So,"  he  said
passionlessly. And "So," he repeated. Then turned on his heel  without  further
word and passed out into the darkness.
    Wading among sprawling babies and  bristling  wolf-dogs,  he  threaded  the 
great camp, and on its outskirts came upon a woman at  work  by  the  light  of 
a fire. With strings of bark stripped from the long roots  of  creeping  vines, 
she was braiding rope for the  Fishing.  For  some  time,  without  speech,  he 
watched her deft hands bringing law and order out of the unruly mass of curling 
fibres. She was good to look upon, swaying there to  her  task,  strong-limbed,
deep-cheated, and with hips made for motherhood. And the bronze of her face was 
golden in the flickering light, her hair blue-black, her eyes jet.
    "O Su-Su," he spoke finally, "thou hast looked upon me kindly in  the  days 
that have gone and in the days yet young -"
    "I looked kindly upon thee for that thou wert chief of the  Thlunget,"  she
answered quickly, "and because thou wert big and strong."
    "Ay -"
    "But that was in the old days of the Fishing," she hastened to add, "before
the Shaman Brown came and taught thee ill things and led thy  feet  on  strange
trails."
    "But I would tell thee the -"
    She held up one hand in a gesture which reminded him of her father. "Nay, I
know already the speech that stirs in thy throat, O Keesh, and  I  make  answer
now. It so happeneth that the fish of the water and the beasts  of  the  forest
bring forth after their kind. And this is good. Likewise it happeneth to women. 
It is for them to bring forth their kind, and even the maiden, while she is yet 
a maiden, feels at the neck. And when such feeling is strong,  then  does  each 
maiden look about her with secret eyes for the man - for the man who  shall  be 
fit to father her kind. So have I felt. So did I feel when I looked  upon  thee 
and found thee big and strong, a hunter and fighter of  beasts  and  men,  well 
able to win meat when I should eat for two, well able to keep danger  afar  off 
when my helplessness drew nigh. But that was before the day  the  Shaman  Brown 
came into the land and taught thee -"
    "But it is not right, Su-Su. I have it on good word -"
    "It is not right to kill. I know what thou wouldst  say.  Then  breed  thou 
after thy kind, the kind that does not kill; but come not on such  quest  among 
the Tana-naw. For it is said in the time to come, that the Raven shall  grapple
with the Wolf. I do not know, for this be the affair of men; but I do know that 
it is for me to bring forth men against that time."
    "Su-Su," Keesh broke in, "thou must hear me -"
    "A man would beat me with a stick and make  me  hear,"  she  sneered.  "But 
thou... here!" She thrust a bunch of bark into his hand. "I  cannot  give  thee
myself, but this, yes. It looks fittest in thy hands.  It  is  squaw  work,  so 
braid away."
    He flung it from him, the angry blood  pounding  a  muddy  path  under  his 
bronze.
    "One thing more," she went on. "There be an old custom which thy father and
mine were not strangers to. When a man falls in battle, his  scalp  is  carried
away in token. Very good. But thou, who have forsworn the Raven, must do  more.
Thou must bring me, not scalps, but heads' two heads,  and  then  will  I  give 
thee, not bark, but a brave- beaded belt, and sheath, and long  Russian  knife.
Then will I look kindly upon thee once again, and all will be well."
    "So," the man pondered. "So." Then he turned and  passed  out  through  the 
light.
    "Nay, O Keesh!" she called after him. "Not two heads, but three at least!"
    But Keesh remained true to his conversion, lived uprightly,  and  made  his
tribespeople obey the gospel as propounded by the Rev. Jackson  Brown.  Through
all the time of the Fishing he gave no heed to the Tana-naw, nor took notice of 
the sly things which were said, nor of the laughter of the women  of  the  many 
tribes. After the Fishing, Gnob and his people, with  great  store  of  salmon, 
sun-dried and smoke-cured, departed for the Hunting on the head reaches of  the 
Tana-naw. Keesh watched them go, but did not fail in his attendance at  Mission 
service, where he prayed regularly and led  the  singing  with  his  deep  bass 
voice.
    The Rev. Jackson Brown delighted in that deep bass voice,  and  because  of 
his sterling qualities deemed  him  the  most  promising  convert.  Macklewrath 
doubted this. He did not believe in the  efficacy  of  the  conversion  of  the 
heathen, and he was not slow in speaking his mind. But Mr. Brown  was  a  large 
man, in his way, and he argued it out with such convincingness, all of one long 
fall night, that the trader,  driven  from  position  after  position,  finally 
announced in desperation, "Knock out my brains with apples, Brown, if  I  don't 
become a convert myself, if Keesh  holds  fast,  true  blue,  for  two  years!" 
Mr. Brown never lost an opportunity, so he clinched the matter on the spot with 
a virile hand-grip, and thenceforth the conduct of Keesh was to  determine  the 
ultimate abiding-place of Macklewrath's soul.
    But there came news one day, after the winter's rime had settled down  over 
the land sufficiently for travel. A Tana-naw man  arrived  at  the  St.  George 
Mission in quest of ammunition and bringing information that Su-Su had set eyes 
on Nee-Koo, a nervy young hunter who had bid brilliantly for her by old  Gnob's
fire. It was at about this time that the Rev. Jackson Brown came upon Keesh  by
the wood-trail which leads down to the river. Keesh had his best  dogs  in  the
harness, and shoved under the sled-lashings was his largest and finest pair  of
snow-shoes.
    "Where goest thou, O Keesh? Hunting?" Mr. Brown  asked,  falling  into  the 
Indian manner.
    Keesh looked him steadily in the eyes for a full minute,  then  started  up 
his dogs. Then again, turning his  deliberate  gaze  upon  the  missionary,  he
answered, "No; I go to hell."

    In an open space, striving to burrow into the snow as  though  for  shelter 
from the appalling desolateness, huddled three dreary lodges. Ringed all about, 
a dozen paces away, was the sombre forest. Overhead there was no keen, blue sky
of naked space, but a vague, misty curtain, pregnant with snow, which had drawn 
between. There was no wind, no sound, nothing but the snow and silence. Nor was 
there even the general stir of life about the camp; for the hunting  party  had 
run upon the flank of the caribou herd and the kill had been large. Thus, after 
the period of fasting had come the plenitude of feasting, and  thus,  in  broad 
daylight, they slept heavily under their roofs of moosehide.
    By a fire, before one of the lodges, five pairs of snow-shoes stood on  end 
in their element, and by the fire sat Su-Su.  The  hood  of  her  squirrel-skin 
parka was about her hair, and well drawn up around her throat;  but  her  hands 
were unmittened and nimbly at work with needle and sinew, completing  the  last
fantastic design on a belt of leather faced with bright scarlet cloth.  A  dog,
somewhere at the rear of one of the lodges, raised a short,  sharp  bark,  then
ceased as abruptly as it had begun. Once, her father, in the lodge at her back, 
gurgled and grunted in his sleep. "Bad dreams,"  she  smiled  to  herself.  "He 
grows old, and that last joint was too much."
    She placed the last bead, knotted the  sinew,  and  replenished  the  fire. 
Then, after gazing long into the flames, she  lifted  her  head  to  the  harsh
crunch-crunch of a moccasined foot against the flinty snow granules. Keesh  was
at her side, bending slightly forward to a load which he bore  upon  his  back.
This was wrapped  loosely  in  a  soft-tanned  moosehide,  and  he  dropped  it 
carelessly into the snow and sat down. They  looked  at  each  other  long  and
without speech.
    "It is a far fetch,  O  Keesh,"  she  said  at  last,  "a  far  fetch  from 
St. George Mission by the Yukon."
    "Ay," he made answer, absently, his eyes fixed keenly  upon  the  belt  and 
taking note of its girth. "But where is the knife?" he demanded.
    "Here." She drew it from inside her parka and flashed its naked  length  in 
the firelight. "It is a good knife."
    "Give it me ! " he commanded.
    "Nay, O Keesh," she laughed. "It may be that thou west  not  born  to  wear 
it."
    "Give it me!" he reiterated, without change of tone. "I was so born."
    But her eyes, glancing coquettishly past him to the moosehide, saw the snow
about it slowly reddening. "It is blood, Keesh?" she asked.
    "Ay, it is blood. But give me the belt and the long Russian knife."
    She felt suddenly afraid, but thrilled when he took the belt  roughly  from 
her, thrilled to the roughness. She looked at him  softly,  and  was  aware  of 
a pain at the breast and of small hands clutching her throat.
    "It was made for a smaller man," he remarked grimly, drawing in his abdomen
and clasping the buckle at the first hole.
    Su-Su smiled, and her eyes were yet softer. Again she felt the  soft  hands 
at her throat. He was good to look upon, and the belt was  indeed  small,  made 
for a smaller man: but what did it matter? She could make many belts.
    "But the blood?" she asked, urged on by a hope new-born
    "The blood, Keesh? Is it... are they... heads?"
    "Ay."
    "They must be very fresh, else would the blood be frozen."
    "Ay, it is not cold, and they be fresh, quite fresh."
    "Oh Keesh!" Her face was warm and bright "And for me?"
    "Ay; for thee."
    He took hold of a corner of the hide, flirted it open, and rolled the heads
out before her.
    "Three," he whispered savagely; "nay, four at least."
    But she sat transfixed. There they  lay - the  soft-featured  Nee-Koo;  the 
gnarled old face of Gnob; Makamuk, grinning at her with his lifted  upper  lip; 
and lastly, Nossabok, his eyelid, up to its old trick, drooped on  his  girlish
cheek in a suggestive wink. There they lay, the  firelight  flashing  upon  and
playing over them, and from each of them a widening circle  dyed  the  snow  to
scarlet.
    Thawed by the fire, the white crust gave way  beneath  the  head  of  Gnob, 
which rolled over like a thing alive, spun around, and  came  to  rest  at  her 
feet. But she did not move. Keesh, too, sat motionless,  his  eyes  unblinking, 
centred steadfastly upon her.
    Once, in the forest, an overburdened pine dropped its load of snow, and the
echoes reverberated hollowly down the gorge; but neither stirred.
    The short day had been waning fast, and darkness  was  wrapping  round  the 
camp when White Fang trotted up toward the fire. He paused to reconnoitre,  but 
not being driven back, came closer. His nose shot swiftly to the side, nostrils
a-tremble and bristles rising along  the  spine;  and  straight  and  true,  he 
followed the sudden scent to his master's head. He sniffed it gingerly at first 
and licked the forehead with his red lolling tongue. Then he sat abruptly down, 
pointed his nose up at the first faint star, and raised the long wolf-howl.
    This brought Su-Su to  herself.  She  glanced  across  at  Keesh,  who  had 
unsheathed the Russian knife and was watching her intently. His face  was  firm 
and set, and in it she read the law. Slipping back the hood of her  parka,  she 
bared her neck and rose to her feet. There she paused  and  took  a  long  look 
about her, at the rimming forest, at the faint stars in the sky, at  the  camp, 
at the snow-shoes in the snow - a last long comprehensive look at life. A light 
breeze stirred her hair from the side, and for the space of one deep breath she
turned her head and followed it around until she met it full-faced.
    Then she thought of her children, ever to be unborn, and she walked over to
Keesh and said, "I am ready."

    1902

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