The Secret of the Seal (5 page)

E
agerly Kyo stepped up onto the sledge. George got on, too, and sat down. Commanding the restless dogs to run, Kyo guided the sledge away from the house. He let the dogs go as fast as they wanted, and he looked back often to check on the seal. When the hole was in sight, Kyo slowed the team and brought the sledge to a halt.

“I have to unhitch the dogs so Tooky won’t be scared when she wakes up,” Kyo said to his uncle. He jumped down and began to free the sledge.

“The seal—what do you call her, Tooky?—won’t wake up, Kyo. I’m afraid that
the sleeping medicine was too strong for her.” Kyo either didn’t hear his uncle or ignored him. He unhitched the dogs from the sledge but kept them harnessed together.

“Here,” Kyo said, holding out the traces to his uncle. “I need your help. Take the dogs to the house. Please.”

Reluctantly George did as the boy asked. He led the dogs away from the sledge but stopped when he’d gone about fifty yards.

Kyo climbed back into the cage. Cradling the seal’s head in his lap, he sang a song his mother used to sing to him.

Three times Kyo sang the verse. On the fourth, Tooky opened her eyes and picked up her head. Kyo nudged her gently toward the cage door. The seal wriggled her body backward through the opening.

Seeing the animal leave the cage, the dogs and George rushed forward to prevent her escape. Kyo looked up to see the yapping dogs approaching and commanded them to halt. The dogs obeyed, and George stopped behind them.

On the ice now, Tooky sniffed in different directions as if to get her bearings. Kyo scrambled out of the cage, clapped his mittens together, and laughed. Then he dashed ahead, and Tooky skittered along behind him. George started after them again, but this time he stopped himself and watched them go.

When they reached Tooky’s hole in the ice, Kyo sat by the edge and faced the seal. She put her nose close to his and gently brushed it with her whiskers.

Leaning back, Kyo broke the thin layer of newly formed ice easily with the heel of his boot. He stood up and watched Tooky dive into the sea. Then he turned from the hole to follow his uncle, who was already walking back to the house, dog traces in hand, leaving the empty cage behind.

T
he snowmobile’s deep growl woke Kyo the next morning. He jumped out of bed and ran to the window.

“He’s not going yet, Kyo,” said Annawee. “He’s just fetching the cage. But he’s leaving for the city right after breakfast.”

While the family ate, Kyo watched his uncle through the steam rising from his hotcakes. George joked with his brother-in-law and made plans to send fabric and new scissors to his sister while he ate the biggest stack of hotcakes Kyo had ever seen anybody eat. When George was done he turned to his nephew.

“I guess I won’t be bringing a seal back to the city zoo after all, Kyo.”

Kyo dropped his head, ashamed that he’d interfered with his uncle’s dream, but relieved that the seal would remain in the sea.

“But I remember now what it was like to grow up here as a boy,” he said, smiling at his sister.

“Thanks for showing me your special hunting spots,” he said to Kudlah. To Kyo he said, “Thanks for giving me a ride on the dogsled I’ll never forget.” Kyo looked up at his uncle and relaxed when he saw the man’s wide grin.

George stood up, hugged his sister and brother-in-law, and picked up Kyo.

“You don’t have to leave without a seal,” Kyo told him. He wriggled out of his uncle’s arms, ran to his bed, and reached under his pillow for the finished stone seal carving.

D
EBORAH
D
AVIS
instructed and counseled adolescents in outdoor adventure programs before turning to writing. She has lived and worked among various cultural and ethnic groups across the United States and Canada as well as in South America, the Middle East, and the former Soviet Union. She now lives in Camden, Maine, and often takes her kayak into Penobscot Bay to watch and be watched by seals.