times thrice, to kill a mother bear with her cubs. The men could not
bring themselves to believe that the boy Keesh, single-handed, had
accomplished so great a marvel. But the women spoke of the fresh-killed
meat he had brought on his back, and this was an overwhelming argument
against their unbelief. So they finally departed, grumbling greatly that
in all probability, if the thing were so, he had neglected to cut up the
carcasses. Now in the north it is very necessary that this should be
done as soon as a kill is made. If not, the meat freezes so solidly as
to turn the edge of the sharpest knife, and a three-hundred-pound bear,
frozen stiff, is no easy thing to put upon a sled and haul over the
rough ice. But arrived at the spot, they found not only the kill which
they had doubted, but that Keesh had quartered the beasts in true hunter
fashion, and removed the entrails.

Thus began the mystery of Keesh, a mystery that deepened and deepened
with the passing of the days. His very next trip he killed a young bear,
nearly full-grown, and on the trip following, a large male bear and his
mate. He was ordinarily gone from three to four days, though it was
nothing unusual for him to stay away a week at a time on the ice-field.
Always he declined company on these expeditions, and the people
marveled. "How does he do it?" they demanded of one another. "Never does
he take a dog with him, and dogs are of such great help, too."

"Why dost thou hunt only bear?" Klosh-Kwan once ventured to ask.

And Keesh made fitting answer. "It is well known that there is more meat
on the bear," he said.

But there was also talk of witchcraft in the village. "He hunts with
evil spirits," some of the people contended, "wherefore his hunting is