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Kalitan, Our Little Alaskan Cousin

<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> <div class='chaptertitle'>KALITAN TENAS</div> It was bitterly cold. Kalitan Tenas felt it more than he had in the long winter, for then it was still and calm as night, and now the wind was blowing straight in from the sea, and the river was frozen tight. A month before, the ice had begun to break and he had thought the cold was over, and that the all too short Alaskan summer was at hand. Now it was the first of May, and just as he had begun to think of summer pleasures, lo! a storm had come which seemed to freeze the very marrow of his bones. However, our little[2] Alaskan cousin was used to cold and trained to it, and would not dream of fussing over a little snow-storm. Kalitan started out to fish for his dinner, and though the snow came down heavily and he had to break through the ice to make a fishing-hole, and soon the ice was a wind-swept plain where even his own tracks were covered with a white pall, he fished steadily on. He never dreamed of stopping until he had fish enough for dinner, for, like most of his tribe, he was persevering and industrious. Kalitan was a Thlinkit, though, if you asked him, he would say he was "Klinkit." This is a tribe which has puzzled wise people for a long time, for the Thlinkits are not Esquimos, not Indians, not coloured people, nor whites. They are the tribes living in Southeastern Alaska and along the coast. Many think that a long, long time ago, they came from Japan or some far Eastern country, for they look[3] something like the Japanese, and their language has many words similar to Japanese in it. Perhaps, long years ago, some shipwrecked Japanese were cast upon the coast of Alaska, and, finding their boats destroyed and the land good to live in, settled there, and thus began the Thlinkit tribes. The Chilcats, Haidahs, and Tsimsheans are all Thlinkits, and are by far the best of the brown people of the Northland. They are honest, simple, and kind, and more intelligent than the Indians living farther north, in the colder regions. The Thlinkit coast is washed by the warm current from the Japan Sea, and it is not much colder than Chicago or Boston, though the winter is a little longer. Kalitan fished diligently but caught little. He was warmly clad in sealskin; around his neck was a white bearskin ruff, as warm as toast, and very pretty, too, as soft and fluffy as a lady's boa. On his feet were moccasins of[4] walrus hide. He had been perhaps an hour watching the hole in the ice, and knelt there so still that he looked almost as though he were frozen. Indeed, that was what those thought who saw him there, for suddenly a dog-sledge came round the corner of the hill and a loud halloo greeted his ears. "Boston men," he said to himself as he watched them, "lost the trail." They had indeed lost the trail, and Ted Strong had begun to think they would never find it again. Chetwoof, their Indian guide, had not talked very much about it, but lapsed into his favourite "No understan'," a remark he always made when he did not want to answer what was said to him. Ted and his father were on their way from Sitka to the Copper River. Mr. Strong was on the United States Geological Survey, which Ted knew meant that he had to go all around[5] the country and poke about all day among rocks and mountains and glaciers. He had come with his father to this far Alaskan clime in the happiest expectation of adventures with bears and Indians, always dear to the heart of a boy. He was pretty tired of the sledge, having been in it since early morning, and he was cold and hungry besides; so he was delighted when the dogs stopped and his father said: "Hop out, son, and stretch your legs. We'll try to find out where we are before we go any farther." Chetwoof meanwhile was interviewing the boy, who came quickly toward them. "Who are you?" demanded Chetwoof. "Kalitan Tenas," was the brief reply. "Where are we?" was the next question. "Near to Pilchickamin River." "Where is a camp?" "There," said the boy, pointing toward a clump of pine-trees. "Ours." [6] Ted by this time was tired of his own unwonted silence, and he came up to Kalitan, holding out his hand. "My name is Ted Strong," he said, genially, grinning cheerfully at the young Alaskan. "I say this is a jolly place. I wish you would teach me to fish in a snow-hole. It must be great fun. I like you; let's be friends!" Kalitan took the boy's hand in his own rough one. "Mahsie" (thank you), he said, a sudden quick smile sweeping his dark face like a fleeting sunbeam, but disappearing as quickly, leaving it grave again. "Olo?" (hungry). "Yes," said Mr. Strong, "hungry and cold." "Camp," said Kalitan, preparing to lead the way, with the hospitality of his tribe, for the Thlinkits are always ready to share food and fire with any stranger. The two boys strode off together, and Mr. Strong could scarcely help smiling at the contrast between them. Ted was the taller, but slim even in the furs[7] which almost smothered him, leaving only his bright face exposed to the wind and weather. His hair was a tangle of yellow curls which no parting could ever affect, for it stood straight up from his forehead like a golden fleece; his mother called it his aureole. His skin was fair as a girl's, and his eyes as big and blue as a young Viking's; but the Indian boy's locks were black as ink, his skin was swarthy, his eyes small and dark, and his features that strange mixture of the Indian, the Esquimo, and the Japanese which we often see in the best of our Alaskan cousins. Boys, however, are boys all the world over, and friendly animals, and Ted was soon chattering away to his newly found friend as if he had known him all his life. "What's your name?" he asked. "Kalitan," was the answer. "They call me Kalitan Tenas;[1] my father was Tyee." [8] "Where is he?" asked Ted. He wanted to see an Indian chief. "Dead," said Kalitan, briefly. "I'm sorry," said Ted. He adored his own father, and felt it was hard on a boy not to have one. "He was killed," said Kalitan, "but we had blood-money from them," he added, sternly. "What's that?" asked Ted, curiously. "Long time ago, when one man kill another, his clan must pay with a life. One must be found from his tribe to cry, 'O-o-o-o-o-a-ha-a-ich-klu-kuk-ich-klu-kuk'" (ready to die, ready to die). His voice wailed out the mournful chant, which was weird and solemn and almost made Ted shiver. "But now," the boy went on, "Boston men" (Americans) "do not like the blood-tax, so the murderer pays money instead. We got many blankets and baskets and moneys for Kalitan Tyee. He great chief." "Do you live here?" asked Ted. [9] "No, live on island out there." Kalitan waved his hand seaward. "Come to fish with my uncle, Klake Tyee. This good fishing-ground." "It's a pretty fine country," said Ted, glancing at the scene, which bore charm to other than boyish eyes. To the east were the mountains sheltering a valley through which the frozen river wound like a silver ribbon, widening toward the sea. A cold green glacier filled the valley between two mountains with its peaks of beauty. Toward the shore, which swept in toward the river's mouth in a sheltered cove, were clumps of trees, giant fir, aspen, and hemlock, green and beautiful, while seaward swept the waves in white-capped loveliness. Kalitan ushered them to the camp with great politeness and considerable pride. "You've a good place to camp," said Mr. Strong, "and we will gladly share your fire until we are warm enough to go on." [10] Ted's face fell. "Must we go right away?" he asked. "This is such a jolly place." "No go to-day," said Kalitan, briefly, to Chetwoof. "Colesnass."[2] "Huh!" said Chetwoof. "Think some." "Here comes my uncle," said Kalitan, and he ran eagerly to meet an old Indian who came toward the camp from the shore. He eagerly explained the situation to the Tyee, who welcomed the strangers with grave politeness. He was an old man, with a seamed, scarred face, but kindly eyes. Chief of the Thlinkits, his tribe was scattered, his children dead, and Kalitan about all left to him of interest in life. "There will be more snow," he said to Mr. Strong. "You are welcome. Stay and share our fire and food." "Do let us stay, father," cried Ted, and his father smiled indulgently, but Kalitan looked at him in astonishment. Alaskan boys are[11] taught to hold their tongues and let their elders decide matters, and Kalitan would never have dreamed of teasing for anything. But Mr. Strong did not wish to face another snow-storm in the sledge, and knew he could work but little till the storm was passed; so he readily consented to stay a few days and let Ted see some real Alaskan hunting and fishing. Both boys were delighted, and soon had the camp rearranged to accommodate the strangers. The fire was built up, Ted and Kalitan gathering cones and fir branches, which made a fragrant blaze, while Chetwoof cared for the dogs, and the old chief helped Mr. Strong pitch his tent in the lee of some fragrant firs. Soon all was prepared and supper cooking over the coals,—a supper of fresh fish and seal fat, which Alaskans consider a great delicacy, and to which Mr. Strong added coffee and crackers from his stores,—and Indians and whites ate together in friendliness and amity. <div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> <div class="footnote">[1] Little Arrow. </div> <div class="footnote">[2] Snow. </div> </div> <hr class="chap" />[12] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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