Jack London



   The Story of Keesh

    From Love of Life


    Keesh lived long ago on the rim of the polar sea, was head man of his village 
through many and prosperous years, and died full of honors with his name  on  the 
lips of men.  So long ago did he live that only the old men  remember  his  name, 
his name and the tale, which they got from the old men before them, and which the 
old men to come will tell to their children and their children's children down to 
the end of time.  And the winter darkness, when the north gales make  their  long 
sweep across the ice-pack, and the air is filled with flying white,  and  no  man 
may venture forth, is the chosen time for the telling  of  how  Keesh,  from  the 
poorest igloo in the village, rose to power and place over them all.
    He was a bright boy, so the tale runs, healthy and strong, and  he  had  seen 
thirteen suns, in their way of reckoning time.  For each winter  the  sun  leaves 
the land in darkness, and the next year a new sun returns so  that  they  may  be 
warm again and look upon one another's faces.  The father  of  Keesh  had  been a 
very brave man, but he had met his death in a time of famine, when he  sought  to 
save the lives of his people by taking the life of a great  polar  bear.  In  his 
eagerness he came to close grapples with the bear, and his  bones  were  crushed; 
but the bear had much meat on him and the people were saved.  Keesh was his  only 
son, and after that Keesh lived alone with his mother.  But the people are  prone 
to forget, and they forgot the deed of his father; and he being but  a  boy,  and 
his mother only a woman, they, too, were swiftly forgotten, and ere long came  to 
live in the meanest of all the igloos.
    It was at a council, one night, in the big igloo of  Klosh-Kwan,  the  chief, 
that Keesh showed the blood that ran in his veins and the manhood that  stiffened 
his back.  With the dignity of an elder, he rose to  his  feet,  and  waited  for 
silence amid the babble of voices.
    "It is true that meat be apportioned me  and  mine,"  he  said.  "But  it  is 
ofttimes old and tough, this meat, and, moreover, it has an unusual  quantity  of 
bones."
    The hunters, grizzled and gray, and lusty and young, were  aghast.  The  like 
had never been known before.  A child, that talked like a  grown  man,  and  said 
harsh things to their very faces!
    But steadily and with seriousness, Keesh went on. "For that I know my father, 
Bok, was a great hunter, I speak these words.  It is said that Bok  brought  home 
more meat than any of the two best hunters, that with his own hands  he  attended 
to the division of it, that with his own eyes he saw to it  that  the  least  old 
woman and the last old man received fair share."
    "Na! Na!" the men cried. "Put the child out!" "Send him off to bed!"  "He  is 
no man that he should talk to men and graybeards!"
    He waited calmly till the uproar died down.
    "Thou hast a wife, Ugh-Gluk," he said, "and for  her  dost  thou  speak.  And 
thou, too, Massuk, a mother also, and for them dost thou speak.  My mother has no 
one, save me; wherefore I speak. As I say, though Bok be dead because  he  hunted 
over-keenly, it is just that I, who am his son, and that Ikeega, who is my mother 
and was his wife, should have meat in plenty so long as there be meat  in  plenty 
in the tribe. I, Keesh, the son of Bok, have spoken."
    He sat down, his ears keenly alert to the flood of  protest  and  indignation 
his words had created.
    "That a boy should speak in council!" old Ugh-Gluk was mumbling.
    "Shall the babes in arms tell us men the things we shall do?" Massuk demanded 
in a loud voice. "Am I a man that I should be made a mock  by  every  child  that 
cries for meat?"
    The anger boiled a white heat. They ordered him to bed,  threatened  that  he 
should have no meat at all, and promised him sore beatings for  his  presumption. 
Keesh's eyes began to flash, and the blood to pound darkly under his skin. In the 
midst of the abuse he sprang to his feet.
    "Hear me, ye men!" he cried. "Never shall I speak in the council again, never 
again till the men come to me and say, 'It is well,  Keesh,  that  thou  shouldst 
speak, it is well and it is our wish.' Take this now, ye men, for my  last  word. 
Bok, my father, was a great hunter. I, too, his son, shall go and hunt  the  meat 
that I eat. And be it known, now, that the division of that which I kill shall be 
fair. And no widow nor weak one shall cry in the night because there is no  meat, 
when the strong men are groaning in great pain for that they have eaten overmuch. 
And in the days to come there shall be shame upon the strong men who  have  eaten 
overmuch. I, Keesh, have said it!"
    Jeers and scornful laughter followed him out of the igloo, but  his  jaw  was 
set and he went his way, looking neither to right nor left.
    The next day he went forth along the shore-line where the ice  and  the  land 
met together. Those who saw him go noted that he carried his bow, with  a  goodly 
supply of bone-barbed arrows, and that across his shoulder was his  father's  big 
hunting-spear. And there was laughter, and much talk, at the  event.  It  was  an 
unprecedented occurrence. Never did boys of his tender age go forth to hunt, much 
less to hunt alone. Also were there shaking of heads  and  prophetic  mutterings, 
and the women looked pityingly at Ikeega, and her face was grave and sad.
    "He will be back ere long," they said cheeringly.
    "Let him go; it will teach him a lesson," the hunters said. "And he will come 
back shortly, and he will be meek and soft of speech in the days to follow."
    But a day passed, and a second, and on the third a wild gale blew, and  there 
was no Keesh. Ikeega tore her hair and put soot of the seal-oil on  her  face  in 
token of her grief; and the women assailed the men with bitter words in that they 
had mistreated the boy and sent him to his death; and the  men  made  no  answer, 
preparing to go in search of the body when the storm abated.
    Early next morning, however, Keesh strode into the village. But he  came  not 
shamefacedly. Across his shoulders he bore a burden  of  fresh-killed  meat.  And 
there was importance in his step and arrogance in his speech.
    "Go, ye men, with the dogs and sledges, and take my trail for the better part 
of a day's travel," he said. "There is much meat on the ice - a she-bear and  two 
half-grown cubs."
    Ikeega was overcome with joy, but he received her demonstrations  in  manlike 
fashion, saying: "Come, Ikeega, let us eat. And after that  I  shall  sleep,  for 
I am weary."
    And he passed into their igloo and ate profoundly, and after that  slept  for 
twenty running hours.
    There was much doubt at first, much doubt and discussion. The  killing  of  a 
polar bear is very dangerous, but thrice dangerous is it, and three times thrice, 
to kill a mother bear with her cubs.  The  men  could  not  bring  themselves  to 
believe that the boy Keesh, single-handed, had accomplished so  great  a  marvel. 
But the women spoke of the fresh-killed meat he had brought on his back, and this 
was an overwhelming argument against their unbelief. So  they  finally  departed, 
grumbling greatly that in all probability, if the thing were so, he had neglected 
to cut up the carcasses. Now in the north it is very necessary that  this  should 
be done as soon as a kill is made. If not, the meat freezes so solidly as to turn 
the edge of the sharpest knife, and a three-hundred-pound bear, frozen stiff,  is 
no easy thing to put upon a sled and haul over the rough ice. But arrived at  the 
spot, they found not only the kill, which they had doubted, but  that  Keesh  had 
quartered the beasts in true hunter fashion, and removed the entrails.
    Thus began the mystery of Keesh, a mystery that deepened  and  deepened  with 
the passing of the days. His very next  trip  he  killed  a  young  bear,  nearly 
full-grown, and on the trip following, a large male bear and  his  mate.  He  was 
ordinarily gone from three to four days, though it was nothing unusual for him to 
stay away a week at a time on the ice-field. Always he declined company on  these 
expeditions, and the people marvelled. "How does he do it?" they demanded of  one 
another. "Never does he take a dog with him, and dogs are  of  such  great  help, 
too."
    "Why dost thou hunt only bear?" Klosh-Kwan once ventured to ask him.
    And Keesh made fitting answer. "It is well known that there is more  meat  on 
the bear," he said.
    But there was also talk of witchcraft in the village.  "He  hunts  with  evil 
spirits," some of the people contended, "wherefore his hunting is  rewarded.  How 
else can it be, save that he hunts with evil spirits?"
    "Mayhap they be not evil, but good, these spirits," others said. "It is known 
that his father was a mighty hunter. May not his father hunt with him so that  he 
may attain excellence and patience and understanding? Who knows?"
    None the less, his success continued, and the less skilful hunters were often 
kept busy hauling in his meat. And in the division of it  he  was  just.  As  his 
father had done before him, he saw to it that the least old woman  and  the  last 
old man received a fair portion, keeping no  more  for  himself  than  his  needs 
required. And because of this, and of his merit as a hunter, he was  looked  upon 
with respect, and even awe; and there was talk of  making  him  chief  after  old 
Klosh-Kwan. Because of the things he had done, they  looked  for  him  to  appear 
again in the council, but he never came, and they were ashamed to ask.
    "I am minded to build me an igloo," he said  one  day  to  Klosh-Kwan  and  a 
number of the hunters. "It shall be a large igloo, wherein Ikeega and I can dwell 
in comfort."
    "Ay," they nodded gravely.
    "But I have no time.  My business is hunting, and it takes all my time. So it 
is but just that the men and women of the village who eat my meat should build me 
my igloo."
    And the igloo was built accordingly, on a generous scale which exceeded  even 
the dwelling of Klosh-Kwan. Keesh and his mother moved into it, and  it  was  the 
first prosperity she had enjoyed  since  the  death  of  Bok.  Nor  was  material 
prosperity alone hers, for, because of her wonderful son and the position he  had 
given her, she came to he looked upon as the first woman in all the village;  and 
the women were given to visiting her, to asking her advice, and  to  quoting  her 
wisdom when arguments arose among themselves or with the men.
    But it was the mystery of Keesh's marvellous hunting that took chief place in 
all their minds. And one day Ugh-Gluk taxed him with witchcraft to his face.
    "It is charged," Ugh-Gluk  said  ominously,  "that  thou  dealest  with  evil 
spirits, wherefore thy hunting is rewarded."
    "Is not the meat good?" Keesh made answer. "Has one in  the  village  yet  to 
fall sick from the eating of it? How dost thou know that witchcraft be concerned? 
Or dost thou guess, in the dark, merely because of the envy that consumes thee?"
    And Ugh-Gluk withdrew discomfited, the women laughing at  him  as  he  walked 
away. But in the council one night, after long deliberation, it was determined to 
put spies on his track when he went forth to hunt, so that his methods  might  be 
learned. So, on his next trip, Bim and Bawn, two young men, and  of  hunters  the 
craftiest, followed after him, taking care not to be seen. After five  days  they 
returned, their eyes bulging and their tongues a-tremble to tell  what  they  had 
seen. The council was hastily called in Klosh-Kwan's dwelling, and  Bim  took  up 
the tale.
    "Brothers! As commanded, we journeyed on the trail of Keesh, and cunningly we 
journeyed, so that he might not know. And midway of the first day  he  picked  up 
with a great he-bear. It was a very great bear."
    "None greater," Bawn corroborated, and went on himself. "Yet was the bear not 
inclined to fight, for he turned away and made off slowly over the ice.  This  we 
saw from the rocks of the shore, and the bear came toward us, and after him  came 
Keesh, very much unafraid. And he shouted harsh words after the bear,  and  waved 
his arms about, and made much noise. Then did the bear grow angry, and rise up on 
his hind legs, and growl. But Keesh walked right up to the bear."
    "Ay," Bim continued the story. "Right up to the bear Keesh  walked.  And  the 
bear took after him, and Keesh ran away. But as he ran he dropped a little  round 
ball on the ice. And the bear stopped and smelled of it, then  swallowed  it  up. 
And Keesh continued to run away  and  drop  little  round  balls,  and  the  bear 
continued to swallow them up."
    Exclamations and cries of doubt were being made, and Ugh-Gluk expressed  open 
unbelief.
    "With our own eyes we saw it," Bim affirmed.
    And Bawn - "Ay, with our own eyes. And this continued until  the  bear  stood 
suddenly upright and cried aloud in pain, and thrashed his fore paws madly about. 
And Keesh continued to make off over the ice to a safe  distance.  But  the  bear 
gave him no notice, being occupied with the misfortune the little round balls had 
wrought within him."
    "Ay, within him," Bim interrupted. "For he did  claw  at  himself,  and  leap 
about over the ice like a playful  puppy,  save  from  the  way  he  growled  and 
squealed it was plain it was not play but pain. Never did I see such a sight!"
    "Nay,  never  was  such  a  sight  seen,"  Bawn  took  up  the  strain.  "And 
furthermore, it was such a large bear."
    "Witchcraft," Ugh-Gluk suggested.
    "I know not," Bawn replied. "I tell only of what my eyes beheld. And after  a 
while the bear grew weak and tired, for he was very heavy and he had jumped about 
with exceeding violence, and he went off along the shore-ice,  shaking  his  head 
slowly from side to side and sitting down ever and again to squeal and  cry.  And 
Keesh followed after the bear, and we followed after Keesh, and for that day  and 
three days more we followed. The bear grew weak, and never ceased crying from his 
pain."
    "It was a charm!" Ugh-Gluk exclaimed. "Surely it was a charm!"
    "It may well be."
    And Bim relieved Bawn. "The  bear  wandered,  now  this  way  and  now  that, 
doubling back and forth and crossing his trail in circles, so that at the end  he 
was near where Keesh had first come upon him. By this time he was quite sick, the 
bear, and could crawl no farther, so Keesh came  up  close  and  speared  him  to 
death."
    "And then?" Klosh-Kwan demanded.
    "Then we left Keesh skinning the bear, and came running that the news of  the 
killing might be told."
    And in the afternoon of that day the women hauled in the  meat  of  the  bear 
while the men sat in council assembled. When Keesh arrived a messenger  was  sent 
to him, bidding him come to the council.  But he sent reply, saying that  he  was 
hungry and tired; also that his igloo was large and comfortable  and  could  hold 
many men.
    And curiosity was so strong on the men that the whole council, Klosh-Kwan  to 
the fore, rose up and went to the igloo of Keesh. He was eating, but he  received 
them with respect and seated them according to their rank. Ikeega was  proud  and 
embarrassed by turns, but Keesh was quite composed.
    Klosh-Kwan recited the information brought by Bim and Bawn, and at its  close 
said in a stern voice: "So explanation is wanted,  O  Keesh,  of  thy  manner  of 
hunting. Is there witchcraft in it?"
    Keesh looked up and smiled. "Nay, O Klosh-Kwan. It is not for a boy  to  know 
aught of witches, and of witches I know nothing.  I  have  but  devised  a  means 
whereby I may kill the ice-bear with ease, that is  all.  It  be  headcraft,  not 
witchcraft."
    "And may any man?"
    "Any man."
    There was a long silence. The men looked in one another's  faces,  and  Keesh 
went on eating.
    "And... and... and wilt thou tell us, O Keesh?" Klosh-Kwan finally asked in a 
tremulous voice.
    "Yea, I will tell thee." Keesh finished sucking a marrow-bone and rose to his 
feet. "It is quite simple. Behold!"
    He picked up a thin strip of whalebone and showed it to them. The  ends  were 
sharp as needle-points. The strip he coiled carefully, till it disappeared in his 
hand. Then, suddenly releasing it, it sprang straight again. He picked up a piece 
of blubber.
    "So," he said, "One takes a small chunk of blubber, thus, and thus  makes  it 
hollow. Then into the hollow goes the whalebone, so, tightly coiled, and  another 
piece of blubber is fitted over the whale-bone. After  that  it  is  put  outside 
where it freezes into a little round ball. The bear  swallows  the  little  round 
ball, the blubber melts, the whalebone with its sharp ends stands  out  straight, 
the bear gets sick, and when the bear is very sick, why,  you  kill  him  with  a 
spear. It is quite simple."
    And Ugh-Gluk said "Oh!" and Klosh-Kwan said "Ah!". And  each  said  something 
after his own manner, and all understood.
    And this is the story of Keesh, who lived long ago on the rim  of  the  polar 
sea. Because he exercised headcraft and not witchcraft, he rose from the  meanest 
igloo to be head man of his village, and through all the years that he lived,  it 
is related, his tribe was prosperous, and neither widow nor weak one cried  aloud 
in the night because there was no meat.

    1904

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