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 marvelled. "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
him.

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 rewarded. How else can it be, save that he hunts with
evil spirits?"

"Mayhap they be not evil, but good, these spirits," others said.
"It is known that his father was a mighty hunter. May not his