THE STORY OF KAGSUK THE SMALL

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXXII, 21 January 1939, Page 15

THE STORY OF KAGSUK THE SMALL

By Elizabeth Skottowe in the “Adelaide Advertiser’

(Continued from last week)

Somehow Kagsuk wasn’t in the least afraid. “I’m looking for my piece of meat, sir,” he said. “My beautiful piece of walrus meat that I buried here yesterday.” “Well, well, well!” said the Giant. “That was your bit of walrus, was it? I found it this morning, and thought it was a present from a Good Spirit! Never mind, I’ll feed you. What’s your name?” “They call me Kagsuk, the Small!” “And they certainly speak the truth!” chuckled the Giant. “Come on then, Kagsuk the Small, at least I can stop you from being Kagsuk the Hungry!” And off they went, hand in hand, as friendly as can be. Nor was that the end of it. For by the time they’d eaten walrus meat, and seal meat, and Polar bear, and gull, and mackerel, they’d taken a tremendous fancy to each other, and the Giant had heard the whole of Kagsuk’s story. He was thoughtful for a little time, then he said: “See here. Shrimp. Suppose you stay with me for a bit I believe I could teach you a thing or two—l like you, Shrimp, and I’d be glad to do what I could! What do you say?” Naturally, Kagsuk said thank you very much indeed, and that as far he, Kagsuk, was concerned, they were friends for life!

So it was arranged. Every morning those two went out together and Kagsuk took lessons in pushing stones about. The most enormous stones, which the giant could roll as if they were marbles! At first of course, he couldn’t even make them budge. In fact, when he tried he was very inclined to fall over backwards into the snow, turning somersaults, and sneezing the cold, white powdery stuff out of his nostrils, so that the >irds and fish were astonished!

Then the Giant would laugh like good-tempered thunder, until he shook and held his tummy; but he was so kind that Kagsuk tried harder than ever and by-and-by the stones actually began to move, a very little, and presently they moved a lot, and last of all, astonishing to tell, that tiny Eskimo could roll Lem about just like his huge and faithful friend.

Then they knew that the time had come for them to part “Well, so long, Shrimp!” said the Giant, carelessly, so that he wouldn’t show how very sad he was to lose his little comrade. “I don’t somehow think those others will laugh at you any more! Anyway, I'll send along three bears this evening, and you’ll be able to show them tricks. re a ® oot * Shrimp, I always said

Then, with a loud sniff of emotion, he strode off towards his cave, and Kagsuk, with a lump in his throat, trotted towards the village. In the lake just beside it he came upon a umiak (which is an Eskimo sailing boat, you know) stuck in the ice. And just to test his strength he pushed it out, perfectly easily, and then went on again. Just where the huts began he met a party of men with ropes, who were on their way to haul it out. “You needn’t bother about that,” said Kagsuk. “Your old umiak is safe out of the ice.”

They were simply astonished! Specially when they screwed up their eyes, and, squinting in the direction that he pointed, saw it was perfectly true. “But . . . but ...” they stammered. “How? And when? And who? And what?”

And they looked about to see who could have done this.

There was nobody, only Kagsuk! The grown-ups marvelled. But the . ude boys shouted and laughed as usual: “Huh! You are a lot of sillies! As if it could have been the Shrimp!” Kagsuk smiled, and went off to his best and nicest grandmother’s house to dry his boots. And she was delighted indeed to see him after his long absence. Early that evening, as they were sitting by the fire, all of a sudden they heard the most terrific commotion! There was screaming and shouting, and the sound of running footsteps. When Kagsuk went to the door he saw the whole village was upset. For, growling as they came, three bears approached over the snow. And leading the crowd flying for safety were the rude boys who’d laughed at him! “Huh! You are a lot of sillies!” said Kagsuk. “Just you stop that noise and keep still, and watch the Shrimp!” Then, quite calmly, he strolled up to those bears. Shooting out one foot, he landed the eldest a terrific kick in the nose, which sent him howling back where he came. Then taking a head of each of the others in one hand, he knocked them together so hard that their skulls cracked in two. You should have seen the villagers. Some of them fell backwards over their heels with astonishment, the eyes of all nearly dropped out, and there wasn’t a mouth in the place that didn’t gape—specially the rude boys. Kagsuk quietly dragged the two huge bears up to his grandmother’s house. “We’re going to make a feast,” he said, “and when you’ve quite finished gasping and goggling, you’d better come to it.” And so they did. But from that day forward everyone, even the head of the village, and his cross father were very, very polite to Kagsuk, whose name was changed to “Kagsuk-the-Weak-who-grew-Strong.” All the same, he never grew very large, though nobody ever dared to mention that!