How the Fog Came
By A. Hyatt Verrill
Author of "Harpers
Aircraft Book," "Harpers Wireless Book," etc.
From
Everyland magazine, Legends of the Northland, March 1915. Digitized by Doug
Frizzle, June 2012.
It was dreary winter time in the Arctic, and the
icy gales whistled around the little
group of igloos (snow houses), drifting the
fine snow about them until nothing
but their low, rounded tops showed
above the dazzling white surfaces
which stretched away for countless miles to the
frozen shores of the Arctic Ocean.
Just within the tunnel-like entrances to the
huts the dogs huddled together, now and then
howling dismally at the storm
without or snapping at one another
in a wolfish, savage manner. Within the
little dwellings built of blocks of frozen snow, it was warm and comfortable, with no sound or sign of the blizzard raging outside. Near the center of each house stood a rude stone lamp
filled with whale-oil, and with a row of moss about its edge. This moss served
as the wick, and from this primitive stove the
occupants of the house received their warmth and light.
All around the inside of the
igloo was a bench of ice, covered with the
skins and furs of foxes, bears, seals, and wolves. On this bench sat the women;
among them old Nepaluka, her
wrinkled face bent close to the
deerskin shirt which she was patiently stitching with a sharp bone needle and
sinew threads. Near her was Newilic, her son, busily at work upon a walrus tusk,
which under his deft fingers was being transformed into a long snow-knife.
Between these two sat Kemiplu,
Newilic's motherless daughter, a
chubby brown-eyed lass of five years, playing with a horn dipper and a handful
of bright pebbles.
Finally the grandmother
finished the last seam, and, placing
the completed
shirt aside, sank back among the
furs. The little granddaughter had tired of her simple toys, and cuddling up to
the old woman,
begged for a story. The grandmother
smiled and gathering the little bundle of fur-wrapped humanity in her
arms said:
"And of what shall I
tell you, little daughter? Shall it be of Ukla the
great bear who made the fog; of Nowgaluk
the gull who ate the whales; or why the
crow is black and the loon
speckled?"
"O tell me of Ukla,
Ananating!" (Grandmother),
cried the child delightedly, and her
busy father looked up from his work and listened attentively, for the simple Eskimos love their
quaint old legends and never tire of hearing them
repeated.
"Many, many winters
ago," began the old woman, "there
was a great white bear named Ukla. He and his wife lived many days' travel to the west in a great skin house upon a rocky plain,
and all about the house were the skulls of men and women;
for wicked old Ukla loved human flesh, and every night he traveled far across the land to the
homes of our people. He would kill
those whom he could find outside their huts, or would steal the
bodies of the dead, and, fastening a
rope of skin about their feet, would
drag them across the rocks and hills to his home.
"Sometimes
he was seen by the Eskimos, but
oftener they saw only his giant
footprints in the moss and snow, or
found the graves deserted and empty.
For many years this had gone on, and, although the
people held medicine feasts and asked the
Great Spirit to help them, yet he
seemed displeased and answered not their
prayers.
"Many times also the people lay in wait and tried to kill the robber bear with their
spears and arrows, but Ukla was a great anti-coot (magician), and the bone-tipped weapons fell back bent or broken from his shaggy sides. At last the
Eskimos were in despair, when one day a tall fair stranger came among them and said.
" 'Take heart, for I
will rid you of this Ukla.'
"Then the Eskimos danced and beat their
drums and rejoiced, and the stranger
said to them:
" 'Tomorrow I will pretend to die and you must wrap me
in skins and bury me among the
stones, and when Ukla comes let him
depart in peace with me.' Then the
people grew very sad and sorrowful, but he answered them
saying, 'Weep not, for soon I will return, and never after shall Ukla rob the graves of the
Eskimos.'
"Then the people did as the
stranger told them, and, wrapping the stranger in skins, placed him among the stones and departed to their
homes crying aloud as if in sorrow.
In the evening the great bear, having heard their
cries, came across the hills to the village and, finding the
body of the stranger, he fastened
his rope about the man's heels and
started homeward. But the man spread out his arms and grasped at stones,
and although Ukla pulled and tugged he could travel but slowly, and every few
miles he was compelled to stop and
rest from his labors. Then as he
looked at his burden he would shake his head in wonder.
" Ah,' he would say to
himself, 'who would think such a small man would weigh so much; but he must be
fat and fine indeed! What a grand supper he will make!' And thus encouraged by the thoughts of the
fine feast he would have, he would again start onward. At last he reached his home and dragging the
man within the door threw him into a
corner, and tired out with his hard work crawled into his sleeping-bag, telling
his wife they would feast in the morning.
"After a time the stranger opened his eyes to look about, but
Ukla's wife, who was trimming the
lamp, saw him and cried out to her husband:
" 'This man is not
dead—he is looking about.'
"But Ukla was very tired
and answered sleepily,
"Then the man kept very quiet indeed, and when the bear's wife turned away he caught up Ukla's
knife and leaping forward killed her. As she fell the
bear awoke, and the man, throwing
down the knife, dashed through the door and across the
rocky plain while the bear followed
close at his heels, panting and growling terribly as he ran.
"At last, run as fast as
he might, the man found the bear was constantly gaining and would soon
overtake him. Now this stranger was a mighty magician, and as he ran he caused
a great hill to rise between himself and Ukla, and as the
bear climbed slowly up one side the
man ran swiftly and easily down the
other; but when Ukla reached the top he curled up and rolled swiftly down the side of the
hill and nearly caught the man
again.
"Then the stranger caused a mighty river to flow between
himself and his pursuer and sat down upon a stone to rest. When Ukla reached the farther
side he roared and growled with rage, and in a great voice called out,
" 'How, O man, did you
cross the river?'
"And the man laughed and answered, 'I drank my way
across.'
"When Ukla heard this he
plunged into the stream and drank
and drank until at last he made a dry path across the
torrent and crawled slowly up the other bank. But his long hair was wet and heavy, and
his body was greatly swollen with all the
water he had swallowed, so that the
man feared him not, and
taunted him. Then the bear grew very
angry, and with growls like icebergs clashing in a storm he cried out, 'Ugh,
even though I am so sodden that I cannot overtake you, yet you shall not escape
me,' and giving himself a mighty shake he burst, and the
water which he had swallowed flew in all directions and caused a thick fog over
all the land.
"Now the man was greatly troubled, for all the hills and plains were hidden from his eyes and he knew not which way to turn. But
having skinned the bear he grasped the shaggy hide in his hands and waved it many times
about his head, thus making a great wind which drove away the mist. When he reached the
village of the Eskimos great was the rejoicing and the
men did not work and the women did not comb
their hair for three days and three
nights, but danced and beat drums and feasted. For many years the stranger dwelt among the
Eskimos and taught them many things,
and performed many great and brave deeds, but of these
I will tell you some other day, for now it is time to sleep, little daughter."
As the
old woman ended her tale the little brown eyes were closing, and the grandmother
laid the child tenderly among the soft rich furs to dream of the good brave stranger and mighty Ukla the "Fog Father."
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