Allan and the Ice Gods (19 page)

“Yes, Wi, so strange that all the people hold that the spirit of Henga

has entered into this tiger.”

Now, Wi did not laugh at this saying, because it was the belief of his

folk that the ghost of an evil man often passed into the shape of some

terrible beast that could not be killed, and in that form took

vengeance upon those whom that man had hated in life, or on his

children. Therefore he only said,

“If it be so, it seems that I must guard myself, seeing that, if Henga

hated Finn, he hated me ten times more, and with good reason, as

perhaps he knows to-day. Well, I slew Henga and I swear that I will

slay this tiger also, if he troubles us more, though whence the beast

came I cannot guess.”

At this moment Pag appeared, whereon Aaka, who had been listening to

the tale of the death of Finn, turned and went away, saying over her

shoulder:

“Here comes one who perchance can show you how to lead the tiger into

a trap. For what is a tiger but a big striped wolf?”

Others, too, shrank to one side as Pag advanced, because, although

they were grateful to him for what he had done, they who had always

feared Pag, now feared him ten times more. Yes, even Moananga shrank

and made a place for him.

“Fear not,” said Pag mockingly. “The gray wolf mother has fled afar

and no more of her kin follow after me and her. Indeed, I come from

watching them. They fight and devour each other there in the pit and

ere long, I think, all will be dead, for that wall they cannot climb

or tunnel through.”

“Tell us, Pag,” said Moananga boldly, after his fashion, “what are

you, a man, or a wolf fashioned to the shape of a dwarf?”

“You knew my father and my mother, Moananga, and therefore should be

able to answer your own questions. Yet in all men there is something

of the wolf and, for certain reasons that Wi has heard, in me perhaps

more than in most.”

“So the people think, Pag.”

“Do they, Moananga? If so, tell them from me that I am not a wolf that

can be caught in any trap; also that, if they will leave me alone, I

will leave them alone. But if they will not, then they may feel my

fangs.”

“How did you lead the wolves, Pag?”

“Why should you ask secrets, Moananga? Yet if you would know, I will

tell you that you may tell it to others. The mother of them all is my

friend. I went into the wood and called and she came to me. Then I

bade her follow me as a dog does. She followed and the rest followed

her—that is all.”

Moananga looked at Pag doubtfully and answered:

“I hold that there is more behind, Pag.”

“Aye, Moananga, there is always more behind everything, for those who

can find it. We cannot see far and know very little, Moananga—not

even what we were before we were born, or what we shall be after we

are dead.”

Now there was something so grim about Pag’s talk that, although he was

curious, Moananga asked him no more questions; only he said:

“If there be something of a wolf in man, there may be something of man

in a tiger,” and he repeated to him that tale which he had told to Wi.

Pag listened eagerly and answered:

“When one cloud passes, another comes; the wolves have gone, the tiger

follows. Whether Henga dwells in this beast I do not know. But if so,

the sooner it is slain the better,” and he glanced at Wi and at Foh,

who now was standing by his father, his arm thrown about him. Then he

went to fetch his food, for he was hungry.

Now, from that day forward, the tiger became as great an ill to the

tribe as the wolves had been, although it was but one and these had

been many. It lurked around the village in the dark of night, and when

light came and people crept out of their huts, it rushed in, seizing

now one and now another, and bounding away with its prey in its mouth.

No fence could keep it out, nor would it tread on any pitfall, while

so swift were its movements that none could hit it with a spear. It

was noted, moreover, that all those who were taken had been men whom

Henga hated, or their children, or perchance women who had been his

and now were married to others. Therefore, the people grew sure that

in this tiger dwelt the spirit of Henga. Also, N’gae the Priest and

Taren his wife, having taken counsel with the Ice-gods, returned from

the glacier and declared that this was so.

Pondering these things, Wi was much afraid, though more for Foh than

for himself. Certainly, soon or late, the lad would be seized, or

perchance his own turn would come first. The people lived in terror

also, and now none of them would come out of his hut till it was full

day, much less walk beyond the village unless there were many of them

together.

Very slowly and very late, at length the spring came; the snows melted

and the horned deer appeared in the woods. Now Wi hoped the huge tiger

with the flashing teeth would cease from killing men and fill himself

with venison, or perhaps go away altogether whence he came, wherever

that might be, to seek a mate there. Yet the tiger did none of these

things. Almost it seemed that it was the last of its race who could

not mate because none was left living on the earth. At least, it

stayed in the great woods that bordered the beach, living now in one

place and now in another; moreover, it continued to find victims, for

between the spring and the first month of summer three of the tribe

were dragged away, so that the end of it was that they dared not go

out to seek food, never being sure but that the striped beast might

spring upon them from some lair where it lay hid, for it seemed to

watch all their movements and to know where they would come.

The end of it was that the people gathered at the meeting-place and

sent Wini-wini the Shudderer to pray Wi to speak with them. He came

accompanied by Pag. Then, by the mouth of Urk the Aged, they addressed

him, saying:

“This tiger with the great teeth, whom we believe to be Henga in the

shape of a beast, kills us. We demand that you who slew Henga and

turned him into a tiger, you who are a mighty hunter and our chief by

right of conquest, should slay the tiger as you slew Henga.”

“And if I cannot or will not, what then?” asked Wi.

“Then, if we are strong enough, we will kill you and Pag and choose

another chief,” they replied through Wini-wini the Mouth. “Or if we

cannot, at least we will obey you and your laws no more, but will go

away from this place where we have lived since the beginning and seek

another home far from the tiger.”

“Mayhap the tiger will go with you,” said Pag darkly, a grin upon his

ugly face, which saying did not please them, for they had not thought

of such a thing. Before any of them could answer, however, Wi spoke in

a slow, sad voice.

“It seems that among you I have many enemies,” he said, “nor do I

wonder at this, for in sundry ways the past winter has been most evil,

with fiercer cold and longer snows than were ever known, whence have

come much death and sickness. Also a number of us have been killed,

first by the wolves, which are now destroyed, and afterward by this

tiger; nor, although we have made offerings, do the gods who live in

the ice yonder help us at all. Now you tell me that I must kill the

tiger or that you will kill me if you can, which by the ancient custom

you have a right to do, and find another chief. Or, if you cannot,

that you will leave me and go hence to seek a new home far from where

you were born.

“Hearken, people of the tribe. I say to you it is not needful that you

should wander away perhaps to find worse dangers than those which you

have left. Soon I go out to seek this tiger and match myself against

it, as I did against Henga, whose spirit you believe lives in its

skin. Perhaps I shall kill it, or more probably it will kill me, in

which case, you must fight with the beast as best you can, or if it

should please you better, fly away. In any case, it is not needful

that you should try to kill me, for learn that I am weary of this

chieftainship. A while ago I rid you of a tyrant who murdered many of

you, as he did my own daughter, and since then, labouring day and

night, I have worked for the good of all and done my best to serve

you. Now, as you hold that I have failed and I am of the same mind,

for otherwise you would love me better, it is my wish to lay down my

chieftainship, or if the custom will not allow of this, to stand here

unarmed while he whom you may choose to succeed me puts an end to my

life with his club and spear.

“Therefore, choose the man that I may submit myself to you. Yet if you

will take my last counsel as your chief, when you have done so,

command him to spare me a little while that I may go forth to kill the

tiger if I can. Then, having done this, if perchance it does not kill

me, I will return and you can deal with me as you will, either by

suffering me to live on as one of you, such as I was before I became

your chief, or by putting an end to me.”

When the people heard these words and understood their nobleness, they

were ashamed. Also they were confused, for they knew not whom to

choose as chief, if indeed there was anyone who would take that

office. Moreover, Pag did not comfort them by announcing loudly that

this new chief would find one to challenge him, and that within an

hour, namely, Pag himself. Indeed, at this saying, they looked aside,

or rather those among them who had cast eyes of longing on the cave

did so, for, although Pag was a dwarf, his strength was terrible.

Moreover, he was a wolf-man who could doubtless summon powers to help

him from the earth or air, perhaps the gray wolf mother, or ghosts

that howl in the night. Still, one voice did call out the name of

Moananga, whereon he answered:

“Not so, fool. I stand with my brother Wi and tell you that, if you

thrust him out, it will be because the gods have made you mad, for

where can you find one who is braver or wiser and more honest? Why do

you not go up yourselves against the tiger and kill it? Is it

perchance that you are afraid?”

None answered. For a while they murmured together confusedly, and

then, as though with one voice, cried out:

“Wi is our chief. We will have no other chief but Wi.”

So that trouble ended.

That night Wi and Pag took counsel together as to how they might make

an end of the tiger. Earnestly they debated, but for a long while

could see no light. Everything had been tried. The brute would not

walk over their most cunning pitfalls; it would not eat the meat

poisoned with the juices of a certain fish that, when rotten, was

deadly; it feared no fires, and could not be driven away. Twice men in

numbers had gone out to attack it, but once it hid itself, and the

next time it charged them, smote down a man with its great paw, and

vanished; after which they would go no more.

“You and I must fight it alone,” said Wi, but Pag shook his head.

“Our strength is not enough,” he answered. “Before you could smite a

blow with your ax, it would have killed us both. Or perchance if the

ghost of Henga dwells in it, as all the people think, it would not

face that ax again, but would hide itself.”

Then he walked to the mouth of the cave and idly enough stared up at

that broken tree where, as the moonlight showed, the blackened head of

Henga still was fixed, its long locks waving in the wind. He returned

and said:

“That tiger must be very lonely, having none of its kind with which to

talk or mate. Will you lend me your chief’s cloak, Wi? If it is lost I

will promise you a better.”

“What for?” asked Wi.

“That I will tell you afterward. Will you lend me the cloak and the

necklace of tiger claws?”

“Take them if you wish,” said Wi wearily, knowing that it was useless

to dig for secrets in the dark heart of Pag. “Take them and the

chieftainship also, if it pleases you, for of all these I have had

enough who would that once again I were a hunter and no more.”

“A hunter you shall be,” said Pag, “the greatest of hunters. Now talk

no more to me of tigers for a while, lest I should smell them in my

sleep.”

After this, for several days Pag was missing for hours at a time, and

when he returned at night always seemed to be very weary. Also, Wi

noticed that other things were missing, namely, his tigerskin cloak

with the necklace and the head of Henga from the broken tree outside

the cave, that now was nothing but skin and bone. Aaka asked him why

he did not wear his cloak. He answered:

“Because winter passes and it grows too warm.”

“I do not find it warm,” said Aaka. “And why do you not wear the

necklace?”

“Because in spring the skin is tender and it scratches me.”

“Surely Pag is a good master to you,” said Aaka. “Himself he could not

have answered with a smoother tongue. But where does Pag go so

secretly?”

“I do not know, Wife. I was about to ask you, who watch him well, if

you could tell me.”