Tag: 30. Cunning and Deception

Using wit or deceit to achieve goals

The orphans

An orphaned brother and sister endure cruelty from foster parents who abandon them with little food. Using magic taught by their mother, they escape and transform the brother into a seal to outwit hunters and survive. Growing strong, the siblings eventually confront their oppressors, seeking justice. The brother avenges past humiliations, ultimately leading to their freedom and self-reliance through skill and resilience.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The brother uses magic to transform into a seal, enabling the siblings to survive and eventually confront their oppressors.

Cunning and Deception: The siblings employ cleverness and disguise to outwit hunters and overcome the challenges posed by their foster parents.

Revenge and Justice: The brother seeks retribution against those who mistreated them, leading to their ultimate freedom and self-reliance.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

At a well-peopled settlement there lived an old couple, with an only son and a younger daughter; but the parents died before they were grown up. They, however, soon got foster-parents, but these did not love them — they were always scolded, and left to seek their food on the beach at low-water. One spring, when the people were going to start on their summer travels, they put the children into an empty house, with a small portion of food, closed the entrance with large stones, and then left them. When the poor orphans were wellnigh starving, they rummaged about the empty room to find something to allay their hunger, and fell to eating all the old leavings they could get hold of.

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When these were finished, the sister found an instrument for boring. As they could not reach the ceiling, they heaped up stones to stand upon, and in this way managed to make a hole in the roof to creep through. The brother first helped his sister to escape, and then got out himself. Outside they could see tents standing in rows on the islets, they being themselves on the main land; by the smoke they observed, they knew them to be cooking all the day, and they could see the kayakers pursuing the seals. Being hungry, they went to the place where the seals used to be stripped and cut up in the winter, hoping to find some old bits to eat, and they were fortunate enough to find the head of a small thong-seal. When they had eaten a part of it, the sister stripped off the skin, prepared it, and said to the brother, “I am going to make a disguise for thee; dost not thou remember the magic song our mother taught us?” “Indeed I do; and I even remember one for raising a storm. Make haste and get ready the skin.” She rubbed it hard, at the same time singing over it, and all the while it grew larger and larger. He tried it on, but found that it only touched his knees. She rubbed still more, and at last he could wrap himself quite up in it. The sister fastened it on him, saying, “There, thou lookest just like a young thong-seal; now try the water,” — and he went to the beach. He leapt down, while she remained singing the magic lay, and saying, “Now dive down!” When he reappeared on the surface she said, “Thou art looking like a little dovekie; I will sing again:” and when he again appeared, she said, “Well, now, thou art quite like a thong-seal; come!” When he rose the next morning and came outside, it was fine weather and quite calm; and seeing that no kayaker from the islets had left land, he took a fancy to play the seal. He put on his disguise and leapt into the sea. No sooner was he observed from the tents than they called out, “There is a young seal; let us be off and chase it!” There was plenty of joking, and a great bustle, and the men got their kayaks down into the sea in a great hurry. In the meantime he dived, but as he could not keep his breath all the time, he rose to the surface behind one of the kayakers, and took breath without being observed. In the hurry of the moment, some of the men had forgotten to put on their kayak-jackets, though they were rather far out at sea. These the disguised boy had picked out to wreak his vengeance on. He sang the lay for raising the wind, and all of a sudden a gale began to blow. The hunters hastened to put back and reach home; but those who were not in proper trim had their kayaks filled with water, and perished. When the brother came on shore, he said to his sister, “I believe we may safely venture to let them see we are still alive. Now they have lost some of their people, we may probably be of some use to them, and may be they will fetch us off;” and they proceeded to make signs to attract attention. As soon as they were observed by the people on the opposite islands, these said to one another, “Let us get them over; we are in want of people.” A boat was soon despatched; and after a while the orphans recovered. Later on in the summer they were taken into a boat’s crew as rowers, and went up a firth for a deer-hunting station; but their master was not kind to them, and when he had got his first buck, he gave the boy the knee-pan, and said, “Until thou hast swallowed that, thou shalt have nothing else to eat.” He was almost choked with it, but at last managed to make it go down, and then had his meal; but he never forgot the knee-pan. When the deer-hunting was at an end in the autumn, some people were leaving for the north, and the orphans were among their party, and thus left their former masters. They were not yet quite grown up; but they went on practising all manner of hard exercise, in order to increase their strength. In this they both succeeded; and the brother turned out to be an excellent seal-hunter besides. Some years afterwards, they travelled back to the south, and again came across the man who had made him swallow the knee-pan, but he had now grown quite old. Game was scarce in the middle of winter, but the young man still went out and tried his luck. One day he brought home a large thong-seal, and ordered the sister to boil down the blubber into train-oil. This done, he invited all their neighbours; and when the meal was served up, he addressed the old man, saying, “I would like to know whether it be easier to swallow a knee-pan or to drink boiling-hot oil? Just thou try, or otherwise thou wilt have no supper.” The old man hesitated, but drank it off at last; but his throat got scalded, and he died in the act of drinking. The young man was thus appeased, and left the place on the first thaw.

There is a story of some other orphans, that they were left helpless and destitute at the winter-quarters when all the rest of the people went deer-hunting; but when they were at the point of starving, they heard a noise on the roof of the doorway, and on looking out to see what it was, they found a ptarmigan. The next day came a small seal, and when that was finished, a large saddleback seal. Of other orphans it is told that the eldest, a boy, died of starvation; but that the girl, left alone, one day happened to see some kayakers hallo-hunting (viz., by driving the seals). When they had finished, one of them brought her a little seal; and when they again put out to sea, she observed them all turning into gulls and flying away. When she had returned, and lay all alone in the house, a queer little woman brought her a fire that could never be extinguished. Of another orphan the legend is, that he taught himself to walk on the surface of the ocean.

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Namak

Namak, an orphan raised by a taunting foster father, grew strong and skilled with a sling, driven by vengeance for his parents’ murder. His foster father’s provocations sharpened his resolve and strength, culminating in the destruction of his enemies’ boats. Later, Namak continued his quest for revenge alongside his son, asserting dominance through cunning and physical prowess, ultimately embodying the strength born of adversity and unresolved conflict.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: Namak’s journey is driven by a desire to avenge his parents’ murder, seeking retribution against their killers.

Trials and Tribulations: Throughout his life, Namak faces numerous challenges, including taunts from his foster father and the need to develop his strength and skills to confront his enemies.

Cunning and Deception: Namak employs clever tactics, such as feigning weakness to conceal his growing strength, ultimately using his cunning to achieve his goals.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

Of this story there is only one manuscript, written down in North Greenland before 1828.

The parents of Namak were both killed by their house-fellows; and while he was as yet but a weak and helpless child, a man happened to take pity on him and adopted him for his son. But this same foster-father was fond of worrying the boy, and inventing stories to frighten and excite him. Sometimes, when the child was asleep, he would cry out, “Namak, thy enemies have come to kill thee, too.” At first he was much alarmed, but by degrees he got used to it. But sometimes his foster-father would say, “Ah, how forgetful that Namak is! Here are his parents newly murdered, and he forgetting all about it.” At this, Namak would get into a great rage. When he was still a child, his father one day made him a present of a sling, saying, “I don’t mean to give thee a kayak, because I believe that thy enemies will kill thee for all that; but take this sling and practise with it.”

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Namak instantly began to do so, and soon got very clever in using it. In the spring he would betake himself to solitary places, practising his sling, always pondering over the things his foster-father had said to stir up vengeance within him. At home he spoke little, but inwardly rejoiced at his growing strength. Sometimes he brought in hares, and sometimes ptarmigan; he got them entirely by means of his sling. In the summer he never slept at night, but always in the day-time. Sometimes, when he had gone to sleep, his father would bring home a seal, and he was then awakened to assist in carrying it up to the house; but he would then hide his strength, and make-believe it was very hard work for him. One day, however, he said that his sling was too weak, and his father went to cut him a stronger one out of a very thick piece of seal-skin; and after that time he left off gibing the boy, because he began to fear him. During the winter it was reported that the enemies of Namak intended to remove farther to the north in spring. He got quite enraged at the thought that they would be going away before he could be revenged; and from that day his manner changed altogether. When spring came round, and they left their winter-house for the tents, he one day said, “I wish I could get myself a new sling.” On hearing this, the father went out in his kayak, and had the good-luck to catch a thong-seal [Phoca barbata]. This he brought in while Namak was still asleep. When the women were busy flensing it, and preparing the skin for boat-covers, the husband said, “It just occurs to me that Namak is wanting a sling.” He then roused him, saying, “Namak, thy enemies are making ready to depart.” He awoke and ran out, and stood staring at the neighbours. On his way down to the beach, his foster-father said to him, “Just cut out a line for thy sling, wherever thou choosest.” Keeping an eye upon his neighbours, he took the knife from his father, lifted up the seal by one of the forepaws with only one hand, and turning it over without any difficulty, cut himself a sling to his liking, all in one piece. On seeing this, his foster-father got quite frightened. Some time after this, their neighbours were really going to depart. Namak slept, and his father roused him with these words, “Namak, this time thou mayst believe me; thy enemies are in the very act of departing:” but Namak did not think fit to stir; he had been cheated too often. The father again cried to him, “Now they are taking their tents away,” — and as he himself could hear the clattering of the bars and poles, he rose and put on jacket and boots, but without getting into the sleeves of his jacket, and catching hold of his sling from under the ledge, he hid it inside. Further down on the beach were some large stone-heaps; there he lay in ambush. Now that he had determined to revenge himself, he no more concealed his strength. While some were yet bringing down their luggage, the first boat put out, rowing briskly, and when right athwart of him, Namak put a big stone in his sling, and threw it into the boat, where it made a large hole, so that it instantly began to sink. “Alas! alas!” they cried. The other boat hurried on to rescue them, but underwent the same fate. The third one tried to save itself by turning in time, but at that instant he flung the stone at it, hitting the prow and cleaving right through; and thus he destroyed three boats, crews and all, and his mind now got rest. One boat was saved from destruction, as it had gone out to sea at once, instead of keeping along the shore. His enemies increased in number after they had established themselves somewhere in the north; and seeing that they had reason to fear him, they trained themselves to be as vigorous as he. Namak married, and though he had never had a kayak himself, he taught his son to practise kayak-paddling. He grew up and came to be an excellent kayaker; and subsequently owned a boat as well as a tent. Now and then reports reached them from their enemies that they were numerous, and also strong. At last he persuaded his son to go and look them up; and in spring they went away northward in their boat, asking the people they met with, “Where are Namak’s enemies?” “Farther north” was the constant answer. At last they learned that their station was close at hand; and from that time they did not as usual land in the evening to take rest, but rowed on incessantly. On their arrival they asked the people who came down to the beach to meet them, “Where are Namak’s enemies?” To this, however, they made no reply, but entered their houses, and the travellers had to make their way on shore by themselves; neither were they afterwards invited to visit them. However, they took up their winter-quarters at that very place, and settled down for the time. In the beginning of their stay, Namak advised his son to watch them closely, but afterwards they got less suspicious. That same winter, one morning, it blew a gale from the south-west, and the kayakers remained at home, and on that day it was announced, “They all want to see Namak.” He was ready in a moment; the son likewise went: and thus they were going to visit their enemies for the first time. There was only set forth meat for two. The son did not taste much of it, but the father continued eating till the dish was nearly emptied. The visitors did not speak; but at length one of the other party proposed different sports, saying, “Ye ought to try strength at the pulling-thong first;” and then he took out the string fitted with walrus-teeth from beneath the ledge, and threw it upon the skin which was spread on the floor for the champions. But Namak said, “This is but child’s-play for people who really want to try a match;” and so saying, he took hold of and tore the thong asunder with one hand, and then flung them down on the floor. Another offered to try strength with him, by hooking their arms together, and trying to pull each other over. Namak did not hesitate, but at once sat down on the skin. They now tried one after another, but nobody was able to move his arm in the least. Seeing that they were not able to match him, they all departed. The son went home, but Namak never stirred, but stayed on. At last, however, he prepared to put on his outer coat, and did it very slowly and deliberately, always expecting an attack. They were never invited afterwards. In spring they again wanted to go to the south, and at parting he let his house-fellows first go into the boat, while he kept back, still expecting an attack from his enemies; but seeing that they did not come, he finally left the place.

The native writer has added the following very characteristic remark: “It is generally supposed that if his foster-father had not continually excited him, he would scarcely have grown to be so immensely strong. People say that among our ancestors, before they became Christians, there was no lack of strong men, because their bad consciences induced them to cultivate their strength. Nowadays, since people have turned Christians, and have no bad consciences, there are no strong men among them.”

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The reindeer-hunt of Merkisalik

Merkisalik, an aging hunter, relied on his son to provide for their family. Visitors arrived, disrupting their peaceful life and mocking his son’s hunting abilities. Despite his patience, the son retaliated by outsmarting them during a hunt. Later, his death, caused by the visitors’ malice, left Merkisalik and his wife devastated. Seeking revenge, Merkisalik created a tupilak, a magical creature, which methodically avenged his son by destroying their enemies.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: After the tragic death of his son due to the visitors’ malice, Merkisalik seeks retribution by creating a tupilak, a magical creature, to avenge his son’s death.

Cunning and Deception: Merkisalik’s son, initially marginalized by the visitors during the hunts, cleverly outsmarts them, showcasing his wit and resourcefulness.

Supernatural Beings: The creation of the tupilak—a mystical entity—highlights the involvement of supernatural elements in the narrative, reflecting the spiritual beliefs of the Inuit culture.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

This story is compiled from two copies, one of which had been noted down in North Greenland before 1828.

Merkisalik had only one son to assist him in providing for his family. In the summer-time they always used to hunt along the shores of the same fiord without any other company. Growing old and infirm, Merkisalik at length had to give up hunting and leave the providing to his son. Once when they had again taken up their abode at the fiord, and the son, as was his wont, had gone out hunting, the old people were left by themselves, expecting no visitors. Taking a turn outside the tent, they suddenly observed a boat sailing up the inlet right before the wind, accompanied by several kayakers. Merkisalik was much pleased at this sight, and ordered his wife to put out some dry meat, to let them have a bite on landing. He rejoiced to think that his son should henceforth have companions on his hunting excursions.

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There were a great number of men among the visitors, some of whom were old and rather talkative and entertaining. When the son returned from the mountains, he was likewise very glad of the company they had got. He treated them with the utmost hospitality, and invited them to partake of the meal as soon as it was boiled and ready. Meanwhile they all conversed very politely, and soon agreed in going out together the next day. They did so, and before long came in sight of a number of animals feeding on the grass down in the valleys. When the drivers were all sent out, the hunters proceeded to make walls of earth, furnished with loopholes. The visitors now proposed that Merkisalik’s son should be the last to shoot, and he agreed; but when the drivers had surrounded the animals, and began to drive them on towards the loopholed walls, the thought struck him, “What if they are too greedy to leave me any chance at all?” Meanwhile the others took aim, and shot all that were to be got. He afterwards assisted them in stripping off the skins; but on their descending the hills towards the tents, he remained a little behind. When the strangers returned they at once set their women to cook and prepare a meal, to which Merkisalik and his people were invited. During supper one of the men remarked, “There must be any amount of animals in this place, since even Merkisalik’s son is capable of getting at them.” The Merkisaliks heard this slight in silence; but afterwards, when they got into their own tent and sat down together, the father said, “It can’t be otherwise; we must just let them have their way, seeing that they are so many.” The following day was spent in the same manner; they treated Merkisalik’s son as they had done the day before, only allowing him to take up his position as far away as possible from the drivers: but on their way home he again kept back a little. Before long, however, he rejoined them, and on their return home the Merkisaliks were again invited to eat of the day’s hunt. The man who the day before had scorned Merkisalik’s son, now spoke to him in a similar fashion, at which he got into a great passion. However, they set out together the next day, and got to the entrance of a great valley, which appeared to be almost overcrowded with reindeer. As before, they ordered him to choose his hiding-place, and make his loophole behind them all, at which he murmured to himself, “If this is to go on, I shall never be able to get anything. I think I will give the beasts the alarm, that they may all run away.” When the flock approached, driven by the drivers, he feigned to be busy about something or other. At last he was warned to be quiet, that the animals might not see him; but he only stopped a moment, and then began to move about again. In the mean time the flock was close by, when, all of a sudden, the leader stopped short, turned round, and bounded off as fast as possible. On perceiving this, the others began to follow him, but dropped short one after another, so that at the other end of the valley but one of them had kept up with him, and this one soon tired out; and when he was about to mount the slope he was left quite alone. Merkisalik’s son shortly disappeared on the other side of the hills, pursuing the fast-running animals. Slowly the men followed in his traces: but when they got to the top of the hill, they beheld numbers of deer with white bellies ready killed in the valley on the other side; and on a stone close by, the huntsman was seated, already quite cool and refreshed. The others now arrived, their faces all red with heat and wrath, and nobody spoke. They at once set to work, stripping the deer; but while the others finished one, he stripped and cut up two, and packing his bundle, he said, “Ye may all of you take as much as ye like.” The man who had formerly ridiculed and mocked him did not altogether like this speech, but became quite mute, and would not join the rest. On the way home they separated. Merkisalik’s son had now got into his old ways, and was in front of the rest. Carrying his burden on his back, and now and then resting himself a little, he got home first of all. When the others came without anything, the Merkisaliks had already all their pots and pans on the fire, and, after their wont, invited the foreigners to join them. During the meal the host tried to begin a conversation, but without success; they all remained mute, and even their old father kept silent. Having done eating, they retired, excepting the father, who now began to be a little talkative, and, as if by chance, remarked, “We want something that would do for a gimlet; would ye mind letting me have that knuckle?” Merkisalik gave it to him willingly, saying, “We have got lots of them.” On the following morning the Merkisaliks were aroused by a clattering noise, as of poles, and peeping out, they saw the visitors pulling down their tent and preparing to depart. Thus they were once more alone; and their son again went out hunting all by himself. One day, when he was still busy bringing down the deer he had stalked to their station, he told them that he had got a swelling at his knee. It grew in size, and was getting worse and worse. The parents were much distressed, and at length he died, but not till he had made known to them that his disease was solely caused by the father of their former visitors, who, in order to hurt him, had bewitched the knee-joint he had asked of them, which had worked back upon him and killed him. The poor old people were inconsolable. It was now autumn; the little lakes began to be covered with ice, and it was time to leave the inland country for the sea-coast: so one fine morning they made preparations to go. They first wept at the tomb of their son, and, still wailing and complaining, they went down the firth with a light easterly breeze. Having arrived at their winter-quarters, Merkisalik’s mind was filled with hatred, and he was always contemplating revenge. In order to carry it out, he resolved to make a tupilak to destroy his enemies. To this end he every day collected bones of all sorts of animals, and put them into the brook close by to whiten, and then mixed them up with hairs taken from boat-skins; and when he had got as many as he required, he made them alive, and put them into the brook which flowed on to the sea. While he was watching the tupilak, he saw it was taking the shape of an agpaliarsuk [the smallest auk, Mergulus alle], that dived down and turned round to its owner; but he said, “Thou art not the thing I want thee to be yet.” Instantly it dived down and reappeared in the shape of a dovekie [Uria grylle]. Again he said, “That won’t do neither.” It underwent many changes and took the shape of all sorts of birds; but he rejected them all. Then it was transformed into all manner of seals and dolphins; but they did not suit him either. At last, after another dive beneath the surface of the water, its breath was heard like a mighty roar, and he beheld a small whale, and then he said, “This will do; thou shalt avenge us.” The animal now seemed to inquire, “Where am I to go?” and he replied, “To the hunting place of the many brothers.” At these words it took one long breath, then dived down into the sea; and the man returned home and bided his time, waiting to hear how the family would fare who lived a little to the north of them. One evening a kayaker appeared rounding the northern point, and in him he soon recognised a poor relative and very old man, who for some time had had his quarters at the same place as their former visitors. On their way from the beach up to the house, he related what follows: “Some days ago an accident occurred up at our place; one of the many brothers has not returned home. The day before his departure he told us that he had harpooned a little whale, adding that he would now go out in search of it; but he has never yet returned.” The maker of the tupilak feigned compassion, saying, “He must, of course, have managed awkwardly somehow;” but inwardly he rejoiced at this intelligence. When the visitor departed, he asked him soon to return, but he did not do so for a good long while. When at length he did come, he again reported: “Yesterday the same accident happened to another of the brothers.” When the visitor was about to depart, Merkisalik encouraged him soon to return, saying, “We are always glad to see thee; now come back as soon as thou canst.” After another long interval he once came back, and told them that the last of the brothers had now disappeared, adding that the poor parents were very much grieved because of their bereavement. On hearing this, Merkisalik’s wrath was somewhat appeased.

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Angutisugsuk

Three brothers, skilled hunters led by Angutisugsuk, face conflict after aiding their starving community. Old sorcerers cast spells on Angutisugsuk’s home, sowing discord upon his return. Domestic tensions escalate, leading to violent familial strife. Angutisugsuk, feared for his strength, is ambushed and killed by his kin. Regret follows as his brother mourns the loss, reflecting on the once generous man destroyed by vengeance and manipulation.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Conflict with Authority: The brothers’ initial act of sharing resources challenges the established norms, leading to resentment from the elders.

Cunning and Deception: The elders’ use of sorcery to incite discord exemplifies deceit leading to tragic outcomes.

Family Dynamics: The story delves into complex familial relationships, highlighting how external manipulation can lead to internal strife and tragedy.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

There were three brothers, the eldest of whom was called Angutisugsuk. They had never lived apart; and all of them were clever hunters, especially Angutisugsuk. One winter the weather was dreadfully severe, and all the neighbours were in great want. Only the three brothers had enough to spare, and the others claimed their assistance. It so happened that two old men came to them with that intention; and during their visit the wife of Angutisugsuk remonstrated, saying that they were having rather too many visitors about the place, at which the old men quickly took offence.

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And in spring-time, when Angutisugsuk’s family left their winter-quarters, and were away on some long excursion, they visited the place in their kayaks, entered the empty house, and practised all manner of sorcery and witchcraft upon the wall adjoining the ledge occupied by Angutisugsuk’s wife, in order to produce discord among the family when they came back from their travels. In autumn they all returned to the old house as usual. One day Angutisugsuk did not go out kayaking, but stayed at home to make a wooden plate and spoon. At that time he had got two wives, both of whom were very clever at needle-work; and he offered to give her who would mend his fur jacket for him the wooden plate and spoon. The first wife made answer, before the second could put in a word, “I want to have them — I will mend the jacket;” and she worked very quickly on it. The second wife, however, who happened to be the best beloved, on her part became envious, and got into a passion. Perceiving this, the husband struck her, because of her having borne him no children. At this his youngest son began crying; and seeing it, the child’s uncle fell upon the father, who was still ill-treating his second wife. In this fight Angutisugsuk thrust his brother against the door-sill with such force that his thigh-bone was bruised; and he would have followed up his advantage over him but for the younger brother and some others, who interfered in the quarrel. Thus it came to pass as the old men had planned when they went and bewitched the empty house in their absence. After having lamed his brother, Angutisugsuk next day loaded his boat and went off in it, taking a small roofless house for himself which he found a little north of his former station; and as a substitute for roof-beams he made a shift with his tent-poles. His proper wife he left behind, and only took the second one along with him. Seeing that his brother was now able to stir, he resolved to kill him, and repeatedly returned to despatch him; but somehow he always found his younger brother or his nephew by his side, and never succeeded in accomplishing his end. These two watched the sick man by turns; and only one at a time went out in his kayak. Angutisugsuk one day encountered his nephew at sea, and resolved to pursue him; but as soon as they came within sight of the house on shore, he left off and turned back. When the nephew got home, he told them that Angutisugsuk had been persecuting him; and his father (viz., the invalid) said, “Tomorrow thou must go and ask our neighbours to assist us in getting Angutisugsuk out of the way, because he has gone raving mad; but two or three men will not suffice, for he is immensely strong himself.” The son went the following morning to several stations, and brought a considerable party of kayakers along with him; and the invalid accosted them, saying, “Let us agree to kill Angutisugsuk. Every day he comes this way intending to take my life; but as soon as he sees anybody staying with me, he desists and turns back.” All the men prepared to pass the night there, hiding their kayaks behind the house; and early in the morning they saw Angutisugsuk in his kayak emerging from behind a rocky point close by. As nobody was to be seen, and he did not even observe the kayaks of his brother and nephew, he supposed them to be off, and made for the shore as fast as possible. An old man among the strangers now drew his hood closer to his head, and pronounced a magic spell, adding that, if it were likely to succeed, Angutisugsuk as a sure sign would turn the back of his hands downwards, instead of using the palms in ascending the beach. Watching him very closely, they noticed that he did as the old man had foretold, and they no longer had any doubt of their success. Having got out on the beach, he only drew his kayak half-way out of the water, and went straight up to the house as if to enter it at once; but bethinking himself of something, turned back to the large boat to get hold of a flensing-knife, and then proceeded to the entry. The men were all reclining on the side-ledge couches except two, who stood posted at the inner entrance ready to seize him. When he saw his brother sitting on the main ledge, he addressed him in the following words, saying, “Here is a brave man for thee! I’ll show thee the way to fight! Didst thou really believe I did not intend to kill thee?” Thus speaking, he advanced a step or two, but was soon seized by the two men, and quickly disarmed. He was at once conducted outside, where all the rest fell upon him; but nobody could manage to overthrow him. At last, when they had got him hamstrung, he fell; whereat they seized him, and held a council as to which of them should first stab him. At last the invalid brother was carried out, in order that he might finish him off. They put him down close beside the other, and he said, “Go and fetch me my spear from under the boat.” When he had got it, he lanced his brother several times in the shoulder, saying, “Now let go your hold; if he boasts himself a man, he will be sure to rise.” He did get up, and went towards his kayak on the beach, but fell down dead before he reached it. Then the surviving brother exclaimed, “Alas! we have killed him who did well towards us. In the short, dark days, when we were almost starving, he did not mind toiling away for us. I am sorry indeed: now do kill me also!” He asked his brother, his son, and all the other men; but finding that nobody would do it, he said, “Well, then, go and fetch his second wife, and kill her at any rate; it was she who began it all.” They did so; and the person who slew her admonished the bystanders, saying, “Now put together all her things, and all her clothes, all her jackets of reindeer-skin, her breeches and boots of seal-skin — get them all together, and carry them along with her; and mind you close up the burial-place well, and heap plenty of stones on top of it.” Later on, when the invalid recovered, he felt great remorse for his act of violence; but the old magician was quite satisfied that Angutisugsuk should have been killed by his brother.

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Tiggak

Tiggak, a renowned sorcerer, faced disdain from his brothers-in-law for his laziness but redeemed himself during a harsh winter by providing seals. His magical prowess saved them from peril at sea, including summoning water and defeating a malicious giant. Through cunning and courage, he overcame deadly challenges and transformed himself and others into bears to journey home. Their transformation symbolized survival and resilience, restoring unity among them.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Transformation: Tiggak evolves from a neglectful individual to a responsible provider, showcasing personal growth and change.

Cunning and Deception: He uses his wit and magical abilities to overcome challenges, such as defeating a malicious giant and transforming into a bear to ensure survival.

Conflict with Nature: The narrative highlights the struggle against natural forces, including harsh winters and treacherous seas, emphasizing resilience and adaptability.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

This is an abstract from three somewhat varying copies received from Greenland. In one of the Labrador legends traces of the same tale appear.

Tiggak was a famous angakok and sorcerer. He married a girl who had a number of brothers, and after this he grew neglectful of his duties, and gave up hunting. When the brothers-in-law left home in the morning, they could not persuade him to follow them; sometimes he even slept till the first of the kayakers returned, and then did nothing but keep his wife company, and dawdle the time away till bedtime came round again. This offended the other men, and they let him understand that they were vexed with him. One evening, when one of the brothers had ordered some boiled briskets, he said to Tiggak when they were served up, “Do eat some meat — that is easy work.” Tiggak took a considerable quantity, and did not pay any attention to the brother-in-law’s remarks, but ate away without giving any answer. In the midst of winter, they were one evening awakened by the noise of the wind. A gale from the north set in.

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The brothers left off hunting, and lived solely upon their stored-up provisions; but at last these were brought to an end. One day, when they could not even go out in the kayak, Tiggak was missing. Towards evening they looked about for him, and there was a terrible snow-drift. Late at night they heard a call, and they saw him approaching, and dragging two seals along with him. From that time he rose in their estimation, and was now highly thought of among them. He now had the briskets served up, and addressed the brothers, saying, “Now come and fall to; the meat is boiled and served up, and eating it is easy work.” They all ate, but nobody spoke. Next day the same scene was repeated; and all the winter he continued providing for the others: but in the summer he left off, and let his brothers-in-law undertake this task themselves. Subsequently Tiggak adopted a boy as his son. Once more it was winter, and the sea was covered with ice as far as the eye could see. Tiggak was the only one to roam about upon the ice, looking out for the haze and seeking open holes in the ice, indicating the places to which the sea animals resort in order to breathe. Far off, beyond the outermost islets, he went away for seals. One day the sky was cloudless and the wind down. He had resolved to go out on the ice with the brothers, and he turned to his adopted son saying, “Today thou mayst come with us and try thy hand at seal-catching.” On gaining the remotest islets, Tiggak made an opening in the ice to examine the state of the waters beneath. When he had done he said, “I believe it will come to pass; the sea-weed seems to be drifting landwards: just look.” The brothers then saw that the current, setting towards land, was stronger than usual, and Tiggak said, “We shall have a gale presently; let us make all haste for the shore.” And though they could hardly credit his words, the weather being so calm, they left their seals behind and followed him quickly. Then the snow was seen foaming on the mountain-peaks; and when they had only reached the first row of islets, the storm burst strong and fierce, and broke up the ice. Tiggak took hold of his son’s hand, running as fast as possible, and leapt across the clefts in the ice. At last they came to a very broad one near the land, and all of them jumped over to the opposite side; the son only did not dare to try the leap, but kept running to and fro along the edge of the cleft. At last Tiggak took pity on him and returned to him, the others also following him; but now they all drifted away seawards, and now and then the waves washed over the ice-floe they were standing on, and they grew silent with fear. At last one of them remarked, “It is said that Tiggak is learned in magic art, and we are drifting out to the wild sea.” Tiggak said, “I only know a short song treating of the ocean foam;” and he at once began singing. Having finished, they saw an iceberg close in front of them, and in a short time they came up to it, and soon caught sight of an easy ascent. The iceberg, however, kept constantly driving up and down, so that they had to watch their chance to get over. When they were just on a level with the point where they intended to cross, Tiggak took the lead and jumped over, and managed to get a sure footing on it; and after him the others followed. They were all, however, drifting further out to sea, when one of them again remarked, “We will be sure to perish from thirst unless Tiggak knows some charm that will work.” He answered, “I only know this one little song to get water.” Having finished the incantation, a little spring bubbled forth from the centre of the iceberg. The brothers instantly wanted to drink; but he told them to wait, saying that otherwise it was sure to dry up at once. But when he had tasted it himself, he permitted them to drink; and now it could not change. After having drifted about for a long time, they came in sight of an extensive country; and Tiggak said to his companions, “If any of you is fortunate enough to leap ashore, he must not look towards the sea so long as any of us are behind, otherwise our place of refuge will break up and be annihilated.” When they did jump ashore, one by one, none of them looked round; but when the last had safely landed, Tiggak turned round and exclaimed, “Behold our place of refuge!” and lo! nothing remained of it but a heap of foam. They now determined to go and find out the people of the country; and having crossed an isthmus, they came in sight of many houses, and were shortly afterwards invited into one of them. They relieved themselves of their outer garments, and hanging them up on the boat-pillars [poles for supporting the boat during the winter], went inside. During the meal, a squint-eyed youth with a shaggy head of hair appeared in the doorway, and called out, “The strangers from the east are hereby invited to pay a visit.” And shortly afterwards he returned to repeat the same message. The host now remarked, “Since he presses you so ardently, you will be obliged to go.” And so they entered another house, where a great many people were assembled. On the main ledge a disagreeable giant-like man was sitting, and by his side a similar old woman, gnawing away at a big shoulder-bone. The huge man pulled forth a seal-skin, spread it on the ground, and, in a deep-sounding voice, exclaimed, “Now come on for a wrestling-match!” The brothers commenced whispering to Tiggak that he should take the first turn; but he said, “Not so; you go down first, then I’ll follow.” The other guests were all ordered away, and the old hag fastened the door with the shoulder-blade. One of the brothers now hooked his arm into that of the giant. Unable to vanquish him, however, he was soon obliged to give in to the strong man, who, catching hold of his lower parts, fell over him, and, with a deep groan, he was crushed to death. The giant next called out for a rope, and this being immediately let down through the ceiling, he fastened it round the dead man’s body, and had him hoisted up to the roof of the house, where a sound of knives was presently heard, and whence one cried out, “Here is his eye; let it be kept for our master.” Tiggak meanwhile thought, “In this manner I shall soon lose all my brothers-in-law;” and therefore he whispered to him who was going to stand forward, “Just let me take a turn with him!” They now hooked their arms together, and the giant, taking a pull in good earnest, nearly succeeded in hauling Tiggak’s arm across to him. Fortunately, however, he stopped him. Then pausing a minute, he feigned to have been overcome by his adversary, but suddenly threw him down, and leapt upon him. The brothers now came to his aid, and assisted in putting him to death in the same way as he had treated their brother. Imitating the voice of the other, Tiggak now called out, “A rope, a rope!” which instantly appeared, and was made fast round the neck of the giant; and again he cried, “Haul away!” Once more the sound of knives was heard; but after a while all was silent, and at last one cried out, “Are we not flensing our own master? We’ll make them perish down below!” And presently they commenced pouring water down upon them. They tried to leave the house, but found no means of escape. Suddenly, however, Tiggak remembered that his amulet was sowed up in the lining of his outer jacket, which he had left on the boat-pillars on their arrival, and he called out, “Bring me my coat that lies outside; I want it for a shroud!” Contrary to his anticipations, it was instantly thrown down, and catching hold of it, he loosened something from within the fur-lining, and there was his amulet all right. He put it into his mouth, and, after saying “Revenge us!” he again took it out. Already they heard voices outside crying, “He is falling! — and he too! — and there is another one!” and so on; and after a while the amulet returned, covered with blood. Having well wiped and cleaned it, the owner again threw it out and cried, “All of them!” When the amulet next time returned no sound was heard outside. They now pushed forward, and from a corner of the ledge they found their way out. Not seeing any person alive, they went back to the house where they had been first received, and again set to work at their meal. But the silly-looking youth again appeared in the entry, and said, “I’ll tell you what — Apiak is now doing her very worst: she is cooking the brains, hands, and feet of her son.” Tiggak, however, could not understand him. The youth returned and told the same thing over again; but still Tiggak did not understand him, and let him go. One of the brothers — the same who had made the remark that Tiggak was learned in magic art — now said, “It will be the brains, hands, and feet of the one thou didst kill up yonder, and his mother probably intends to regale thee with a dish made of them. When thou hast been asked to go, thou wilt perceive an oblong dish right in front of the entrance, filled with brains nicely served up. On entering the room thou must quickly take hold of it, and standing erect with thy face turned towards her, and with thine eyes shut, thou shalt eat it all up — if thou eatest it with open eyes, thou wilt go mad and die; and after having tasted it, thou must turn the dish upside down, and put it back in its place. That done, open thine eyes again, and sit down beside the lamp. She will then turn her gaze upon thee, and thou wilt still remain unchanged; and when she takes the dish and turns it round, the contents of it will be all restored, and thou shalt say to her, ‘Now, please, eat something thyself, as I have done.’ While she is eating, with her looks turned upon thee, just see what becomes of her!” When the brother-in-law had thus spoken, the squinting youth again appeared, saying, “The foreigner is invited to follow me!” Tiggak walked up to the house of the old hag, and acted exactly as he had been told; and having eaten, the wicked old woman turned raving mad and died. Tiggak now returned to his brothers-in-law, saying, “I have killed the old hag, but they will go on in this manner if we stay here; so we had better leave the place altogether and make for our home again.” They again crossed the isthmus, and saw a snow-covered hill sloping down to the water’s side. There they stopped, and Tiggak asked the eldest brother, “What kind of amulet didst thou take when thou hadst to make thy choice?” He answered, “A small piece of bear-skin.” Tiggak said, “That is first-rate.” He then asked the second one; and he had the same amulet, and so had all of them: but when he questioned the youngest of them, he answered, “I am not quite sure; but I believe it’s a piece of bear-skin;” whereat Tiggak said, “That’s all right; you will all do very well.” When, however, he asked the son he had adopted, he only answered, “I don’t know indeed.” But Tiggak then said, “We shall leave thee behind if thou wilt not tell.” “But I don’t know it.” “If thou goest on that way, we shall certainly leave thee alone; so pray tell us!” He then said, “When I was able to judge for myself, I got a snow-bunting [Emberiza nivalis] for my amulet;” at which Tiggak became silent, and shook his head. After a while he remarked, “And yet it may do; thou must perch down on us;” and Tiggak let himself slide downhill, right down into the sea, where he disappeared, and again reappeared in the shape of a bear. He shook the water from his ears, and turned to the others, saying, “Now follow me all of you;” and they were all transformed into bears. When the son’s turn came, he had not the courage. However, when the others had long besought him to follow them, he went gliding slowly down; and when he reached the margin of the water, he grew a snow-bunting, and as such was able to fly. Meanwhile all the others were swimming homewards; and when the little snow-bunting got tired, he took a rest between their ears. At length they landed a little to the north of their old homestead; and when they first climbed up the shore, Tiggak shook himself well, and his bear-skin glided off. The rest all did the same. When the son’s turn had come, he shook off the snow-bunting’s skin; and thus all of them marched home, except the one who had been killed.

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Katerparsuk

Katerparsuk, a poor orphan, faced ridicule and hardship but persevered to build his own kayak with primitive tools. Bullied by a cruel man disguised as a bear, he sought revenge by mastering magic and hunting skills. Transforming into a walrus, he cleverly humiliated his tormentor, reclaiming his pride and settling the score. His resilience turned adversity into triumph, showcasing the power of determination and ingenuity.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Transformation: Katerparsuk’s journey from a ridiculed orphan to a skilled hunter, including his magical transformation into a walrus, highlights significant physical and personal changes.

Revenge and Justice: After being tormented by a man disguised as a bear, Katerparsuk seeks and achieves retribution, restoring his dignity and sense of justice.

Cunning and Deception: Katerparsuk employs cleverness and magical deception, particularly when he transforms into a walrus, to outsmart and humiliate his tormentor.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

This is also very commonly known all over Greenland, and the subjoined version is constructed from five manuscripts.

Katerparsuk was a poor orphan boy. When he grew up he was anxious to get on in the world, because nobody wanted to take care of him and help him along. At length he resolved, by his own efforts, to try to make himself a kayak; but, nobody being willing to lend him a knife, he first tried to work with stone tools, and later on with shells. In the same place there happened to live a wicked man, who, instead of pitying the poor boy, took delight in annoying and terrifying him. For this purpose he disguised himself in a bearskin, and stole up behind Katerparsuk, growling like a bear. On turning round and perceiving him, Katerparsuk flung down his work and tools in consternation, and ran away. When the other house-fellows came to the spot and saw his implements of shells and stones, they were quite moved at the sight.

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Meanwhile the wicked man came forward and said to Katerparsuk, “Instead of pitying thee I scorned thee; because thou, silly boy, couldst ever think of making a kayak all by thyself: and that was why I frightened thee in a bear-skin.” On hearing this, his housemates broke out into a fit of laughter at the poor boy’s embarrassment; but he grew mortally vexed, and only thought of revenge and resentment. Subsequently he betook himself to solitary places, and studied angakok science. After a long time he finished his kayak, and exercised himself in rowing and hunting, and shortly afterwards he was even able to hunt seals. Having once, from the top of a hill, seen a walrus dive, he thought, “Oh that I could make him throw off his skin!” He began to sing a magic lay, but without any result. Very much dissatisfied, he went home, but did not rest till he had got up an incantation that would suit his purpose. He tried the effect of it on a hare, and as it proved successful, he more than ever contemplated revenge. One day, when all the hunters were away in their kayaks, he likewise betook himself to his oar, and rowed out to a remote place. There he landed, and having ascended a very high hill, whence he had a view of the sea, he detected a great many walrus diving up and down. He began to sing his magic lay to one of them, which soon approached the beach right below him; he continued singing louder and louder until the animal at last threw off his skin. Katerparsuk at once crept into it, and began to try swimming and diving, and when the kayakers approached, he knew how to harden his skin so that the harpoon could not pierce it. Meanwhile the wicked man had grown old and decrepit, and had given up seal-hunting; he now only went out fishing. Once Katerparsuk put on his walrus-skin and emerged from the water close to the place where the old man was fishing. He then heard him exclaim, “Oh that I were young again, what a catch I might have had!” Meantime he returned home, collected all his hunting implements, which he had not been using for a long time, and took them out with him to his fishing-place the next day. “Oh, look! there he is again!” the old man exclaimed, upon which he paddled towards him: but Katerparsuk hardened his skin, and made it tough; and seizing the point of the harpoon, pulled it down into the water along with the hunting-bladder, from which he took away the stopper, so that the air escaped, and then he hurried home in his kayak. But the old man was vexed that he had lost his bladder-float; and at home he said, boasting, “I have again commenced to go out hunting; today I pursued a large walrus, but he escaped me, and took my bladder-float along with him.” Katerparsuk let him chat on, but in the evening he invited all the men to come and have a feast with him, and the old man was of the party. After the meal he once more began to talk of his chase and of the loss he had sustained. Before their arrival, Katerparsuk had hung up the bladder-float along with the harpoon-line on a peg in the wall; and while the old man was prating, he pointed to them, saying, “Look, there are all thy hunting tools, and thou canst take them away with thee when thou goest home.” And the old man looked quite abashed, and left the party in a somewhat confused state. It is said that the resentment of Katerparsuk was somewhat appeased by the fun he had had in playing walrus to the man who had been playing bear to him.

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The friends

Two inseparable childhood friends lived far apart, exchanging gifts of seals and reindeer to maintain their bond. A betrayal began when jealousy and spoiled provisions led to each poisoning the other’s offerings with corpse fat. The islander succumbed to madness, driven to cannibalism. Despite repeated near-fatal encounters, the fiord-dweller’s longing for his friend persisted until discovering him dead in isolation, marking the end of their tragic friendship.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: The narrative centers on two childhood friends whose bond is ultimately destroyed by acts of treachery, highlighting the fragility of trust and the destructive power of envy.

Cunning and Deception: Both friends engage in deceitful practices, poisoning each other’s gifts with corpse fat, demonstrating how cunning actions can lead to dire consequences.

Tragic Flaw: The friends’ inability to overcome jealousy and their subsequent acts of betrayal serve as their tragic flaws, leading to madness, cannibalism, and the eventual demise of their relationship.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

This is a very famous Greenland story, and is, in its present form, compiled from three copies.

Two friends loved each other very dearly. From childhood they had been constant companions. One lived at one of the outermost islands, and the other had his abode far up, at the head of a fiord. They very often visited each other, and when they had been parted for some days, they felt a mutual longing to meet again. In the summer the man from the fiord used to go out reindeer-hunting in the interior; but before he went back to the place where he lived, he always took a whole reindeer, choosing one of those with velvety horns and leaving all the tallow in it, to regale his friend with. The islander, on his part, saved and laid by large quantities of seals: and when the reindeer-hunter returned, he immediately visited his friend and was regaled with nicely-dried seal-flesh; but in the evening, when the room grew heated, the frozen meat was produced and set before his friend as a cold dish.

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The guest then praised it very much, and they gossiped till late in the evening. The next day the reindeer-hunter usually had a visit from his friend, but now they only ate reindeer-flesh, and especially the tallow. The friend found it extremely delicious, and ate till he was ready to burst; and at his departure next day he was presented with some dried meat and tallow.

One autumn the hunter lingered in the interior longer than usual. At length the earth was quite frozen over, and still he did not return. At first the friend longed very much for him, but after a while he grew angry with him; and when the first of the preserved seals began to spoil, they commenced to eat away at the whole lot. Later on, when he heard that the hunter had returned, he went out to a grave and cut a bit of fat from a dead body, and with this he rubbed certain parts of a seal he intended to treat his friend with, in order to do him an evil turn on his arrival. Shortly afterwards he came to pay his visit. The meeting was very pleasant, and as usual he was regaled with various delicacies; and the hunter now told that he had had small luck in getting the reindeer with velvety horns, and this was the reason why he had stayed away so long; and his friend answered, “I was expecting thee very anxiously for some time, but when my first preserved seals began to rot, we ate them all up;” and he added, “let us have the one that was last put by; we will have it for a cold dish.” It was accordingly brought in and nicely served up, and the host laid the piece that had been rubbed over with the bit of fat uppermost, and set it before his friend, at the same time begging him to partake of it; but just as the visitor was in the act of helping himself to a piece, something from beneath the ledge gave a pull at his leg. This somewhat puzzled him; however, he was going to commence a second time when he got another pull, on which he said, “I must go outside a little,” and rose up at the same time and went. Being an angakok, the voice of his tornak (guardian-spirit) now warned him, saying, “Thy friend regales thee with a base design; turn the piece over when thou goest back and eat of the opposite part; if thou eatest of the part that is now uppermost thou wilt be sure to go mad.” Having again seated himself, be turned the meat over; but his host thought it might be a mere accident. When the guest had eaten sufficiently, be felt a pain in his stomach — he had probably touched some of the poisoned flesh; but he soon recovered, and on taking leave, he asked his friend to return the visit soon. When he came home he took a reindeer with velvety horns and treated it in the same manner as his friend had done the seal — rubbing it well with some fat from a dead body; and when his guest came, be instantly regaled him with dried meat and tallow, and never before had the visitor found it so much to his taste. At night the reindeer was set before them with the poisoned side turned up, and putting the knife into it, be said, “There, we have got some cold meat; I have kept it for thee this long while.” The friend ate away at it, and several times exclaimed, “This is really delicious!” and the host answered, “Yes, that is because it is so very fat.” When the meal was over, the guest felt a pain in his stomach, and, looking hard at every one present, be got up and went outside, but the pains were not relieved. Next day be took his leave, and it was a long time before his friend saw him again; when he went out kayaking he never met him as he had done formerly. At length, when the ice began to cover the waters, a boat was seen to put into the firth from the sea, and was recognised as being the boat of the friend; but finding that he himself was not of the party, he asked, “Where is your master?” “He is ill, and has turned raving mad; he wanted to eat us, and therefore we all took flight.” On the very next day the huntsman went out to visit his friend. Nobody was to be seen about the house; but, creeping through the entry and looking over the threshold, he beheld his friend lying on his back, with eyes staring wildly, and his head hanging over the edge of the couch. He went up to him and asked him how he did, but no answer was given. After a short silence he suddenly started up and shouted with all his might, “Because thou hast feasted me basely, I have eaten up all the inmates of my house, and I will now devour thee too” — and he bounded towards him; but the other escaped through the entry, and quickly made for his kayak. He only succeeded in pushing off as his pursuer was in the very act of seizing hold of him. The madman now continued running along the shore and crying, “I feel much better now; do come back. When I have not seen thee for a day or two, I am longing dreadfully for thee.” On hearing him speak quite sensibly the friend believed him, and put back again. As soon as he reached the shore, however, the former made a rush at him; but, happily observing this, he pushed off in time. At home he never spoke nor ate from grief for his friend, and his housemates thought him much altered. Towards night he commenced talking to them of his own accord, and told them how he had fared; but the others advised him never to return any more, being sure the madman would eat him too, if he had the chance. Nevertheless, he paddled away the very next morning as if compelled to do so. Then it all happened just as on the former day. The madman pursued him right into the house, and fastened the door, so that he was obliged to get out through the window, and he barely escaped to his kayak. The day after, they again tried to detain him; but he was bent upon going. He entered his friend’s house and found him worse than before: this time he was lying with his head on the floor and his heels resting on the edge of the bench; his eyes were far protruded and staring wildly, and the bone of his nose as sharp as a knife’s edge. On approaching him he started up and pursued his former friend round the room, always crying, “I am starving; I must have thee for food.” At last the friend succeeded in jumping out of the window, and reached his kayak; but no sooner had he got clear of the shore than he saw the madman walking on the surface of the water, ready to sieze hold of the prow of his kayak. He now began swinging to and fro in his kayak, and by this means ripples were formed, so that the madman could not steady himself, but was very nearly falling. Thus he once more escaped him. The day after, his housemates again wanted to detain him, but he answered them, “When I have not seen my friend for a whole day, I am ready to die with longing, and cannot desist from going to him.” Having arrived at the house of his friend, he found it to be deserted; he searched about everywhere, but did not find him. Outside he observed some footprints winding up hills, and following them, he stopped at a cave in the rock. Here his friend was sitting bent together and much shrunk. As he did not move his friend went up to him, and on trying to lift him up, found him to be quite dead, and his eyelids filled with blood. He now carefully covered and closed up the entrance of the cave, and was henceforth friendless.

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Kumagdlat and Asalok

This story, also well known in all parts of Greenland, has been derived from five copies, written in different parts of that country. Unlike the preceding tales, it exhibits a more historical appearance, apparently referring to certain occurrences which must have taken place during the stay of the primeval Eskimo on the shores of the American continent, and have been repeated until our day. It indicates the first appearances of culture in attempts to provide tools or weapons from seashells, stones, and metal, as well as conflicts and meetings of the Eskimo with the Indians, which in recent times have still taken place on the banks of the Mackenzie and Coppermine Rivers.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The old woman’s deceitful manipulation of Kumagdlat’s perception of his cousins drives the central conflict of the narrative.

Conflict with Authority: The tale reflects the challenges faced by the cousins as they navigate external threats and internal mistrust, leading to a breakdown in their previously harmonious relationship.

Family Dynamics: The story delves into the complexities of familial relationships, particularly how external influences and deceit can disrupt the bonds between close relatives.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

Three cousins named Kumagdlat, Asalok, and Merak were very fond of one another. Kumagdlat occupied a house by himself, and had his own boat [umiak, the larger skin-boat, fit for one to three families travelling with their tents, and all the other necessaries, for the summer season]. The other two kept a house and a boat in partnership; but they all assisted each other early and late, and amused themselves in exercising and exhibiting their mutual strength. When they went out kayaking, they always accompanied each other in a friendly and amicable manner, and were on the whole much attached to one another.

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Kumagdlat had an old crone living with him, and she used to be very cross-tempered; and one day he accosted her as follows: “I won’t have cross old women living in my house, and I shall certainly put thee to death some day or other.” The old hag now behaved peacefully and quietly, until one day she exclaimed: “I can tell thee, it is not without reason that I am so quiet and low-spirited; from the first day thou began to maintain and support me I have been very sorry for thee, and this has made me silent and downhearted.” “How so?” asked Kumagdlat; and she answered: “Is it not that thy cousins love thee so very dearly? Nevertheless they now intend to put an end to thy life.” However, she had invented this lie, being so ill-natured and resentful that she could not even sleep at night. But from that time Kumagdlat began to fear his cousins; and though he never used to be parted from them all day long, he now began to shun them. One day in the spring they entered his house, saying, “Art thou not going out in thy kayak today?” But he answered, “No, I can’t go; I must leave my kayak time to dry,” — and accordingly they set out without him. In their absence he dug up his tent-poles from the snow, and had just finished when they returned. Next morning they again entered with the same question, but he answered as before: “No, I must have my kayak perfectly dry before I can use it.” They would have liked him to go with them; but as he would not be persuaded, they again went out by themselves. As soon as they were out of sight he prepared everything for leaving his old quarters: he had his boat put in the water, and as soon as it was loaded he pushed off; but at parting he said to the people on shore: “Tell them to follow as soon as possible; we intend to go out to sea to our usual reserves” (depots for provisions): and so saying, he started. Asalok and Merak at last returned, and when they discovered that Kumagdlat was gone, they made inquiries, and received the answer, “They have newly departed, and left word that they intended to go out seaward to their usual reserves, and that they wanted you to follow them as soon as possible.” They at once determined to do so; and early the next morning the boat was put right, loaded, and away they went, taking the usual direction: but they did not find him, nor any marks or traces of him along the shore. It is said that Kumagdlat had the skull of a seal for an amulet, and that now every time when he had to pass inhabited places he fixed his amulet on the prow of his boat, that the people of the places might think it to be nothing but a spotted seal diving up and down. But in one of the settlements he thus passed there happened to be a fool, who (fools or naturals being considered as clairvoyants) always had a presentiment of whatever was to take place, and being aware of the boat passing by, he cried out, “A boat! a boat!” But when the others went out to look for it, they could only see a spotted seal diving up and down, and after awhile totally disappearing. When Asalok with his company came to this place and heard these news, they knew that Kumagdlat must have passed by, because they knew of his having such an amulet. Meantime Kumagdlat travelled on night and day without going ashore; when the rowing-girls got too tired, they only made fast the boat a short time to take rest, and then continuing their voyage, until they at last stopped at a well-peopled place, where they resolved to take up their quarters. In this place they met with a very old man busily employed in making a boat. His hair was as white as the side of an iceberg, and beside him stood a bearded young man. Some time after the arrival of Kumagdlat, the old man said to him, “Before this young man here was born I commenced building that boat, and by this time I have only just finished the hull.” But right and left heaps of shells were seen piled together, these being the only tools he had had to work with. “Here we have not got so much as a single knife,” rejoined the old man; “but yonder, in the interior of the country, live people who have knives in abundance.” And when Kumagdlat went on asking, he continued, “Farther inland numerous erkileks have their abodes, and they are immensely rich. [Erkileks are a sort of fabulous beings — half men, half beasts. All sorts of inlanders in the Greenlandish tales represent fabulous or supernatural beings. The most common kind, and probably the inlanders in general, are called tornit (plural of tunek), which is what in the following pages we have translated by inlanders.] However, when any of the coast people go there they never return, being mostly killed, I suppose.” Kumagdlat now said, “I have a great mind to go out in search of them myself;” but the old man replied, “I am afeared thou wilt not be able to do aught by thyself as even several of our people going together have always been put to death. The erkileks are rare people, and neither to be matched in swiftness nor agility.” But Kumagdlat returned to his tent and set about making a small bow and arrows — the quiver he formed out of seal-skin; and having finished these, he started on his journey to the erkileks, all by himself.

When, meanwhile, the brothers Asalok and Merak likewise had wandered about the country for a long time, they at length discovered an extensive plain below them, where the erkileks lived in many tents, and only had a lake for their sea. They now hid themselves, awaiting the fall of night, and watching the return of the erkileks from their day’s hunting. Beneath the rays of the setting sun they espied a very tall man carrying a burden on his back. They were just in the act of discharging their arrows at him, when both exclaimed, “Why, is not that man like Kumagdlat?” and when he answered, “Yes, so it is,” they said to each other, “Well, since we have so happily met, one of the hateful erkileks shall fall.” Having thus again met and recognised each other, Kumagdlat told his cousins how the old hag had calumniated them to him. When it had grown quite dark, and all was silent in the camp of the erkileks, the cousins rose up and first set out in search of some place of security for themselves. At the further side of the lake the erkileks had pitched their tents, and right opposite was a small island, which they fixed upon as a place of refuge. On arriving at the spot they observed that the distance of the island might be about a stone’s-throw. Kumagdlat, with the burden on his back, was the first to venture the leap, and succeeded in gaining the island; Asalok, too, reached the opposite shore; but Merak exclaimed, “I really cannot do it.” When, however, the others prevailed upon him to try the leap, he, too, reached the island, though not without touching the water in crossing. In this place they now deposited their arrows, each providing himself with only two, after which they returned to the mainland, Merak, as before, almost touching the water. They now advanced towards the tents, where the inmates had all retired to rest. Having reached the largest, Kumagdlat said to his companions, “I’ll jump up on the cross-beam above the entrance, while ye pass through the fore-room.” Having passed the entrance, and peeping through the skin curtain of the main room, they beheld an old married couple inside, who were still awake. The woman, who was in the family way, was sitting upright, whilst the man was leaning forward, resting his head on his hands. All of a sudden the man gave a howl like a dog, at which the woman arose to her feet. He then commenced licking her belly, and she handed him some reindeer-tallow. Kumagdlat now said, “Next time he begins to lick her, I’ll take aim and shoot her.” When the old man had finished eating he gave a howl as before, and the woman again got up; but just as he was in the act of licking her, Kumagdlat shot her right through the body. A fearful yell was now heard, and Kumagdlat jumping quickly down, they all hurried across to their hiding-place, while the erkileks in great crowds issued out of their tents. The cousins, meantime, reached the island in the same manner as before. Having safely arrived there, they at once lay down in a row on the ground, each behind the other, Kumagdlat in front, then Asalok, and Merak hindmost. The erkileks began to arm and discharge their arrows at them, which they carried in quivers at their backs; but the women pulling out the arrows from above, were enabled to discharge them much quicker than the men, who pulled them out sideways. While the cousins were watching the archers on shore, always diving down before their arrows, they noted one whistling through the air, and having slightly touched the two, they heard it strike behind them; and looking round, they saw that Merak had been dangerously hit in the throat through venturing to raise his head. Then Asalok said to Kumagdlat, “Dost not thou know any spell for restoring life?” He answered, “Yes, I believe I do;” whereupon he began to murmur some words. When he had finished, they looked round and observed that the arrow had already gone half-way out of Merak’s throat, and when Kumagdlat spoke the third time, Merak was alive and unhurt. The erkileks continued shooting; but when they had used up all their arrows, Kumagdlat had only the skin of his temple grazed a little, and the cousins now arose to pay them back with their bows. When a great number of the erkileks had been shot, they pursued the rest along a river, until they reached a waterfall, where they had a hiding-place; but there Kumagdlat killed them all by throwing stones at them, as they issued forth one by one. Afterwards the friends returned to the tents, where the children had remained immovable, and stunned with terror, feigning to be dead; but the cousins caught hold of them nevertheless, and having pierced them through the ears, they quickly killed them — only one boy and a girl being left alive. They examined the furniture of the erkileks, and found pots of copper, with copper handles to them, and no requisites of any kind wanting. On opening the boxes, the covers unlocked of themselves, because of the great quantity of clothes they contained. These boxes they again closed, but opened others containing knives with beautiful handles, of which they took as many away with them as they could possibly carry, and then again made their way towards the coast. In the meantime the people with whom Kumagdlat had left his family often used to mock them, saying, “Look ye, those who go to the erkileks won’t fail to bring back many fine things, such as beautiful knives, with pretty hafts to them.” On hearing this, Kumagdlat’s wife would run outside, believing her husband to be coming; but they only said so because they believed him to have been killed. An old bachelor had taken her into his house and provided for her, considering her to be a widow. At the time when Kumagdlat was actually returning to the coast, the people were again ridiculing his family, crying out as before. But at the same moment the old boat-builder turned round and beheld Kumagdlat descending the hill, and carrying great loads on his back; and on his approach he discovered his burden to consist of knives with beautiful hafts. On entering the tent Kumagdlat found his mother and wife mourning his absence, and he said, “I expected to have found you with the lamps extinguished” (viz., at the point of starvation). They made answer, “The old bachelor has provided for us, that we might not perish from hunger.” Kumagdlat rejoined, “Many thanks to him, then, and let him come and choose himself a knife.” But the old bachelor would not enter, but wanted the knife to be brought to him; whereupon Kumagdlat said, “Having such great cause to be thankful towards him, I must have him come in.” But the old man, fearing some mischief (viz., suspecting jealousy), insisted on having the knife brought out to him. Kumagdlat, however, continued calling from within; and now at last the old man just crossed the threshold, saying, “Well, then, let me have the knife:” but Kumagdlat still entreated him to come further into the room; and having at length made him sit down, said, “Thou hast provided well for these poor creatures; I thank thee very much, and hope thou wilt accept of these knives,” and he offered him two with beautiful handles. It is said that the cousins afterwards returned to their old home, and that they grew very renowned for their vigour and dexterity, and killed bears as well as kilivfaks (fabulous beasts).

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Igimarasugsuk

This somewhat trifling but still curious story is well known to every child in Greenland; and one tale has also been got from Labrador, and is undoubtedly another reading of the same original, though much abridged and altered.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The wife employs clever tactics to deceive Igimarasugsuk, feigning compliance while plotting her escape.

Conflict with Authority: The wife challenges her husband’s tyrannical and murderous behavior, ultimately defying his control.

Trickster: Although traditionally associated with mischievous figures, the wife’s cunning behavior aligns with this theme as she uses wit to overcome danger.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

It was said of Igimarasugsuk that he always lost his wives in a very short time, and always as quickly married again; but nobody knew that he always killed and ate his wives, as well as his little children. At last he married a girl who had a younger brother, and many relatives besides. Entering the house on his return from a reindeer-hunt, he one day said to his brother-in-law: “Pray go and fetch me my axe — thou wilt find it lying underneath the boat-pillars” (viz., pillars upon which the boat is laid during the winter); and at the same time Igimarasugsuk got up and followed him.

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On hearing the shrieks of her brother, the wife of Igimarasugsuk peeped out, and beheld him pursuing the former, and shortly after striking him on the head, so that he fell down dead on the spot. After this he ordered his wife to dress and boil some parts of the body of her brother. Igimarasugsuk now commenced eating, and offered a piece of an arm to his wife, insisting upon her eating with him; but she only feigned to do so, and concealed her portion under the ashes of the fire. Then the husband exclaimed, “I actually think thou art crying!” “No,” she said; “I am only a little shy.” After having devoured his brother-in-law, the husband now began to fatten his wife; and to this end ordered her to eat nothing but reindeer-tallow, and only drink as much as a small shell would hold. At last she grew so fat that she was not able to move about at all. One day he went away, after having securely shut the entrance to the summer-tent, fastening it with strong cords. When he had been gone a considerable time she took her knife, let herself fall down from the bench, and rolled herself as far as to the entry. By great efforts she crossed the threshold, and was now in the fore-room, where she cut the strings fastening the outer curtain. She then rolled herself down to a muddy pool and drank a great deal of water; after which she felt less heavy, and was able to get up and walk back. She re-entered the tent, stuffed out her jacket, put it on the bench with its back turned outward; and fastening the entrance well, she went away. But being convinced that her husband would shortly pursue her, she took her way down to a very large piece of drift-wood that had been hauled ashore, and she then worked a spell upon it, singing thus: “kissugssuak pingerssuak, ia-ha-ha, arape, kupe, sipe, sipe sisaria.” And forthwith the timber opened midways, and she entered it, again singing, “kissugssuak… arape, mame, mamesisaria.” Then it closed around her, leaving her in darkness. In the meantime she heard her husband coming on towards the spot. He had entered the tent, and seeing the stuffed jacket, he thrust his lance into it; but on discovering what it really was, he ran out, and following the footprints of his wife all the way to the timber, he stopped there, and she plainly heard him say: “Oh what a pity I waited so long in killing her! oh poor miserable me!” Then she heard him turn away and return several times; but every trace ending at the large timber, he at last went away, and she again sang kissugssuak, &c., and instantly the drift-wood opening, she crept out and ran farther on. But lest he should overtake and discover her, she hid herself in a fox-hole. Every trace again ending here, she heard him digging the very earth with his hands; but he soon grew tired, and went away, returning and again going away as before, bemoaning himself in the same manner: “Oh what a pity, poor miserable man that I am!” &c. Perceiving him to be gone, she again set off on her journey. Still, however, fearing him, she next took refuge behind some bushes. Again she heard him come and repeat his old lament: “What a pity I put off eating her so long!” and again going away, he immediately returned, saying, “Here every trace of her ends.” Proceeding on her way, she now had a faint hope of reaching some inhabited place ere he could get up with her again. At length she caught sight of some people gathering berries in the country; but on perceiving her they were on the point of taking fright, when she cried out, “I am the wife of Igimarasugsuk.” They now approached her, and taking hold of her hands, brought her to their home. Having arrived there she said: “Igimarasugsuk, who has the habit of eating his wives, has also eaten his brother-in-law; and if he really wants to get hold of me too, he will be sure to come and fetch me; and as he is very fond of entertainment, ye had better treat him civilly and politely.” Soon after, he arrived; but she hid herself behind a skin curtain. The rest rose up and went out to welcome him, saying: “We trust thy people at home are quite well.” “Yes, they are very well indeed,” he answered. When he had entered they served a meal before him, and afterwards offered him a drum, saying, “Now let us have a little of thy performance.” He took hold of the drum, but soon returned it to one of the others, saying, “Ye ought rather to entertain me;” and the other man, seizing the drum, began to sing: “Igimarasugsuk — the cruel man — who ate his wives.”… At these words Igimarasugsuk blushed all over his face and down his throat; but when the singer continued, “and she was forced to eat of her own brother’s arm,” the wife came forward, saying, “No, indeed, I did not; I concealed my share beneath the ashes.” They now caught hold of him, and the wife killed him with a lance, saying, “Dost thou remember thrusting thy lance into my stuffed jacket?”

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Kagsagsuk

The following tale has been constructed from nine different copies, received partly from various places in Greenland, and partly from Labrador, all, however, agreeing upon every principal point. It does not appear to rest upon any historical basis, but merely to have a moral tendency, bringing before us the idea of a superior power protecting the helpless, and avenging mercilessness and cruelty.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Transformation: Kagsagsuk undergoes a significant change from a mistreated orphan to a powerful individual, highlighting themes of personal growth and metamorphosis.

Cunning and Deception: The tale illustrates how Kagsagsuk uses his newfound strength and cleverness to overcome those who previously oppressed him, showcasing the use of wit to achieve one’s goals.

Moral Lessons: The narrative imparts ethical teachings about the consequences of cruelty and the virtues of resilience and self-improvement.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

There was once a poor orphan boy who lived among a lot of uncharitable men. His name was Kagsagsuk, and his foster-mother was a miserable old woman. These poor people had a wretched little shed adjoining the house-passage [or doorway, a long and very narrow, sometimes half-subterranean, tunnel, leading by an upward step to the main, or rather the only, room of the winter hut, and adapted to keeping out the cold air. Its ends we have called the outer and the inner entrance], and they were not allowed to enter the main room. Kagsagsuk did not even venture to enter the shed, but lay in the passage, seeking to warm himself among the dogs.

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In the morning, when the men were rousing their sledge-dogs with their whips, they often hit the poor boy as well as the dogs. He then would cry out, “Na-ah! Na-ah!” mocking himself in imitating the dogs. When the men were feasting upon various frozen dishes, such as the hide of the walrus and frozen meat, the little Kagsagsuk used to peep over the threshold, and sometimes the men lifted him up above it, but only by putting their fingers into his nostrils; these accordingly enlarged, but otherwise he did not grow at all. They would give the poor wretch frozen meat, without allowing him a knife to cut it with, saying his teeth might do instead; and sometimes they pulled out a couple of teeth, complaining of his eating too much. His poor foster-mother procured him boots and a small bird-spear, in order to enable him to go outside the house and play with the other children; but they would turn him over and roll him in the snow, filling his clothes with it, and treating him most cruelly in various ways: the girls sometimes covered him all over with filth. Thus the little boy was always tormented and mocked, and did not grow except about the nostrils. At length he ventured out among the mountains by himself, choosing solitary places, and meditating how to get strength. His foster-mother had taught him how to manage this. Once, standing between two high mountains, he called out: “Lord of strength, come forth! Lord of strength, come to me!” A large animal now appeared in the shape of an amarok (now a fabulous animal, originally a wolf), and Kagsagsuk got very terrified, and was on the point of taking to his heels; but the beast soon overtook him, and, twisting its tail round his body, threw him down. Totally unable to rise, he heard the while a rustling sound, and saw a number of seal-bones, like small toys, falling from his own body. The amarok now said: “It is because of these bones that thy growth has been stopped.” Again it wound its tail round the boy, and again they fell down, but the little bones were fewer this time; and when the beast threw him down the third time, the last bones fell off. The fourth time he did not quite fall, and at the fifth he did not fall at all, but jumped along the ground. The amarok now said: “If it be thy wish to become strong and vigorous, thou mayst come every day to me.” On his way home, Kagsagsuk felt very much lighter, and could even run home, meanwhile kicking and striking the stones on his way. Approaching the house, the girls who nursed the babies met him, and shouted, “Kagsagsuk is coming — let us pelt him with mud;” and the boys beat him and tormented him as before: but he made no opposition, and following his old habits, he went to sleep among the dogs. Afterwards, he met the amarok every day, and always underwent the same process. The boy felt stronger every day, and on his way home he kicked the very rocks, and rolling himself on the ground, made the stones fly about him. At last the beast was not able to overthrow him, and then it spoke: “Now, that will do; human beings will not be able to conquer thee any more. Still, thou hast better stick to thy old habits. When winter sets in, and the sea is frozen, then is thy time to show thyself; three great bears will then appear, and they shall be killed by thy hand.” That day Kagsagsuk ran all the way back, kicking the stones right and left, as was his wont. But at home he went on as usual, and the people tormented him more than ever. One day, in the autumn, the kayakers [men in their kayaks, or skin canoes, made for the purpose of seal-hunting, with room only for a single person] returned home with a large piece of driftwood, which they only made fast to some large stones on the beach, finding it too heavy to be carried up to the house at once. At nightfall, Kagsagsuk said to his mother, “Let me have thy boots, mother, that I too may go down and have a look at the large piece of timber.” When all had gone to rest, he slipped out of the house, and having reached the beach, and loosened the moorings, he flung the piece of timber on his shoulders and carried it up behind the house, where he buried it deep in the ground. In the morning, when the first of the men came out, he cried, “The driftwood is gone!” and when he was joined by the rest, and they saw the strings cut, they wondered how it could possibly have drifted away, there being neither wind nor tide. But an old woman, who happened to go behind the house, cried, “Just look! here is the spar!” whereat they all rushed to the spot, making a fearful noise, shouting, “Who can have done this? there surely must be a man of extraordinary strength among us!” and the young men all gave themselves great airs, that each might be believed to be the great unknown strong man — the impostors!

In the beginning of the winter, the housemates of Kagsaguk ill-treated him even worse than before; but he stuck to his old habits, and did not let them suspect anything. At last the sea was quite frozen over, and seal-hunting out of the question. But when the days began to lengthen, the men one day came running in to report that three bears were seen climbing an iceberg. Nobody, however, ventured to go out and attack them. Now was Kagsagsuk’s time to be up and doing. “Mother,” he said, “let me have thy boots, that I too may go out and have a look at the bears!” She did not like it much, but, however, she threw her boots to him, at the same time mocking him, saying, “Then fetch me a skin for my couch, and another for my coverlet, in return.” He took the boots, fastened his ragged clothes around him, and then was off for the bears. Those who were standing outside cried, “Well, if that is not Kagsagsuk! What can he be about? Kick him away!” and the girls went on, “He must surely be out of his wits!” But Kagsagsuk came running right through the crowd, as if they had been a shoal of small fish; his heels seemed almost to be touching his neck, while the snow, foaming about, sparkled in rainbow colours. He ascended the iceberg by taking hold with his hands, and instantly the largest bear lifted his paw, but Kagsagsuk turned round to make himself hard (viz., invulnerable by charm), and seizing hold of the animal by the fore-paws, flung it against the iceberg, so that the haunches were severed from the body, and then threw it down on the ice to the bystanders, crying, “This was my first catch; now, flense away [take off the skin and blubber] and divide!” The others now thought, “The next bear will be sure to kill him.” The former process, however, was repeated, and the beast thrown down on the ice; but the third bear he merely caught hold of by the fore-paws, and, swinging it above his head, he hurled it at the bystanders, crying, “This fellow behaved shamefully towards me!” and then, smiting another, “That one treated me still worse!” until they all fled before him, making for the house in great consternation. On entering it himself he went straight to his foster-mother with the two bear-skins, crying, “There is one for thy couch, and another for thy coverlet!” after which he ordered the flesh of the bears to be dressed and cooked. Kagsagsuk was now requested to enter the main room; in answer to which request he, as was his wont, only peeped above the threshold, saying, “I really can’t get across, unless some one will lift me up by the nostrils;” but nobody else venturing to do so now, his old foster-mother came and lifted him up as he desired. All the men had now become very civil to him. One would say, “Step forward;” another, “Come and sit down, friend.” “No, not there where the ledge has no cover,” cried another; “here is a nice seat for Kagsagsuk.” [The main ledge or bench; a low and broad bench for sitting and sleeping places, occupying the whole length of the wall opposite to the windows, the narrower side-ledge and window-ledge bordering the other walls. It is generally known in Greenland as the “brix.”] But rejecting their offers, he sat down, as usual, on the side-ledge. Some of them went on, “We have got boots for Kagsagsuk;” and others, “Here are breeches for him!” and the girls rivalled each other in offering to make clothes for him. After supper, one of the inmates of the house told a girl to go and fetch some water for “dear Kagsagsuk.” When she had returned and he had taken a drink, he drew her tenderly towards him, praising her for being so smart for fetching water; but, all of a sudden, he squeezed her so hard that the blood rushed out of her mouth. But he only remarked, “Why, I think she is burst!” The parents, however, quite meekly rejoined, “Never mind, she was good for nothing but fetching water.” Later on, when the boys came in, he called out to them, “What great seal-hunters ye will make!” at the same time seizing hold of them and crushing them to death; others he killed by tearing their limbs asunder. But the parents only said, “It does not signify — he was a good-for-nothing; he only played a little at shooting.” Thus Kagsagsuk went on attacking and putting to death all the inmates of the house, never stopping until the whole of them had perished by his hand. Only the poor people who had been kind to him he spared, and lived with them upon the provisions that had been set by as stores for the winter. Taking also the best of the kayaks left, he trained himself to the use of it, at first keeping close to the shore; but after some time he ventured farther out to sea, and soon went south and northwards in his kayak. In the pride of his heart he roamed all over the country to show off his strength; therefore, even nowadays he is known all along the coast, and on many places there are marks of his great deeds still shown, and this is why the history of Kagsagsuk is supposed to be true.

In the Labrador tale, the name of the champion is called Kaujakjuk, and in different copies from Greenland, Kausaksuk, Kassaksuk, Kausasuk, and Kauksaksuk. Several parts of Greenland claim the honour of pointing out the ruins of his house. A remarkable ruin on cape Noogsuak, of a very doubtful origin, is supposed to have been his bear-trap. In one of the writings, the relater, hinting at the European fancy for curiosities, observes: “I wonder why the masters, or even the king himself, who all seem so very fond of collecting rare things, if they really believe in the tale, have not taken one of the stones from this trap to be brought away with some ship, if possible.”

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