“Thou hast a wife, Ugh-Gluk,” he said, “and for her dost thou speak.  And thou, too, Massuk, a mother also, and for them dost thou speak.  My mother has no one, save me; wherefore I speak.  As I say, though Bok be dead because he hunted over-keenly, it is just that I, who am his son, and that Ikeega, who is my mother and was his wife, should have meat in plenty so long as there be meat in plenty in the tribe.  I, Keesh, the son of Bok, have spoken.”

He sat down, his ears keenly alert to the flood of protest and indignation his words had created.

“That a boy should speak in council!” old Ugh-Gluk was mumbling.

“Shall the babes in arms tell us men the things we shall do?” Massuk demanded in a loud voice.  “Am I a man that I should be made a mock by every child that cries for meat?”

The anger boiled a white heat.  They ordered him to bed, threatened that he should have no meat at all, and promised him sore beatings for his presumption.  Keesh’s eyes began to flash, and the blood to pound darkly under his skin.  In the midst of the abuse he sprang to his feet.

“Hear me, ye men!” he cried.  “Never shall I speak in the council again, never again till the men come to me and say, ’It is well, Keesh, that thou shouldst speak, it is well and it is our wish.’  Take this now, ye men, for my last word.  Bok, my father, was a great hunter.  I too, his son, shall go and hunt the meat that I eat.  And be it known, now, that the division of that which I kill shall be fair.  And no widow nor weak one shall cry in the night because there is no meat, when the strong men are groaning in great pain for that they have eaten overmuch.  And in the days to come there shall be shame upon the strong men who have eaten overmuch.  I, Keesh, have said it!”

Jeers and scornful laughter followed him out of the igloo, but his jaw was set and he went his way, looking neither to right nor left.

The next day he went forth along the shoreline where the ice and the land met together.  Those who saw him go noted that he carried his bow, with a goodly supply of bone-barbed arrows, and that across his shoulder was his father’s big hunting-spear.  And there was laughter, and much talk, at the event.  It was an unprecedented occurrence.  Never did boys of his tender age go forth to hunt, much less to hunt alone.  Also were there shaking of heads and prophetic mutterings, and the women looked pityingly at Ikeega, and her face was grave and sad.

“He will be back ere long,” they said cheeringly.

“Let him go; it will teach him a lesson,” the hunters said.  “And he will come back shortly, and he will be meek and soft of speech in the days to follow.”

But a day passed, and a second, and on the third a wild gale blew, and there was no Keesh.  Ikeega tore her hair and put soot of the seal-oil on her face in token of her grief; and the women assailed the men with bitter words in that they had mistreated the boy and sent him to his death; and the men made no answer, preparing to go in search of the body when the storm abated.