FOREST AND STREAM 
551 
THE “INVITING-IN” FEAST OF THE ALAS¬ 
KAN ESKIMO. 
(Continued from page 526.) 
rounding the mask was a bristling bush of rein¬ 
deer hair. He sat down solemnly, and all his 
motions were slow and sad. Every gesture, 
while keeping in perfect time with the music, 
expressed the profoundest dejection- As a serio¬ 
comic, this was even more funny than the other, 
and the Unalit, who could safely do so, fairly 
roared. But the cautious visitors sat as solemn 
as owls. 
Then the Unalit trotted out their champion, 
a little old fellow, wonderfully graceful and im¬ 
pressive in his movements. He wore a mask 
adorned with feathers and an enormous nose, 
which I was told was a caricature of the Yukon 
Indian. The Eskimo have lost none of their 
old hatred for their former foes, and still term 
them in derision inkilik, “louse-eaters”; from the 
fact of their long hair being full of these pests. 
Neither is the Eskimo, with tonsured head, free 
from the same affliction; as I learned more than 
once, at a crowded dance, to my temporary afflic¬ 
tion. 
The old man took his place in the center of 
the floor amid perfect silence. With head on 
his breast and hands at rest on his lap he seemed 
sunk in some deep reverie. Then he raised his 
hand 'to his head and cracked a louse audibly. 
This was too much for the Unalaklit, and they 
howled with laughter. Then, having won the 
day by this ruse, the old man began his dance. 
Two women with feather handlets stepped forth, 
and accompanied him, imitating his every move. 
Higher and higher he swung his hands, 
like the rapid upward wheel of a carrier pigeon. 
Then the dance stopped as abruptly as the 
others; the day was won. 
Immediately the food for the feast was 
brought in. It consisted of a strange and be¬ 
wildering array of native delicacies; ancient duck 
eggs, strips of walrus blubber, frozen seal-meat, 
boiled entrails, kantags of blueberries and 
lichens, and various other dishes which appeal 
to the stomach of an Eskimo. Not having any 
particular desire to partake of the same, I took 
my departure. 
GROUP DANCES. 
Second Day. Entering the kazgi the second 
day, I noticed that the floor was covered with 
small heaps of skin and calico. As the Unalaklit 
came in, each man added to the pile. This, I 
was informed, was the price of the first day’s 
defeat, and that they were looking for ample 
revenge the second day. 
They began with a “muscle” dance. This con¬ 
sisted mainly in comic posturing and in a droll 
display of the biceps. Occasionally the dancers 
would glance down the heaving muscles of the 
back and shoulders or extend their arms and 
make the muscles quiver. The Unalit, in their 
turn, attempted to imitate the same, and outdo 
the visitors, but although their big clown dancer 
exhibited his enormous arms and legs to good 
advantage, they were evidently outdone. Noth¬ 
ing daunted, they began another series, the con¬ 
test consisting in the ability of the opposite 
side to guess the meaning of the dances. To 
this end, ancient dances which have fallen into 
disuse or been forgotten, except by the old men, 
are resurrected and practised in secret. 
A young woman appeared in the center of the 
floor wearing a white reindeer parka and a girdle 
of reindeer hair tied around her waist. She 
began the conventional motions of the woman's 
dance, glancing nervously round her. Then men 
dancers, wearing fillets and armlets of wolf¬ 
skin, leaped down from the inlak and surrounded 
her, jumping about and howling hideously. As 
the dance-song quickened, they became more and 
more excited, until the floor became one con¬ 
fused mass of shaggy heads and wildly tossing 
arms. The drums redoubled the beat, until the 
kazgi fairly rocked under the volume of sound 
and the stamping feet. Then, as suddenly as 
the pandemonium began, it ended. 
This was easily guessed as the wolf-pack 
pulling down a reindeer. 
Not to be outdone, the Unalaklit presented a 
very ancient dance from their old home, Kotze¬ 
bue sound. This dance, I was told, was two hun¬ 
dred years old, and the old-style dance of the 
Malemiut. Strangely enough, no drums were 
used, but the chorus consisted of a double row 
of men who used ivory clappers to mark the 
time. Instead otf stamping, the dancers bounded 
up and down on the balls of their feet, holding 
the legs arched and rigid. No one was able to 
fathom this dance- It was different from any 
Eskimo dance I have ever seen. It might be an 
earlier form, or borrowed from the Dene. So 
the visitors won the honors of the second day, 
and left the kazgi in high good humor. 
TOTEM DANCES. 
Third Day. The third day the contest reached 
its climax. The best dancers of each party were 
put forth, and the interest became intense. For 
months they had been trained in their parts, until 
every movement had become almost instinctive. 
Each appeared in full regalia of armlets, fillets, 
and handlets, adapted to their part. Their ap¬ 
pearance was the signal for a demonstration on 
the part Of their friends and every new turn 
or movement which they introduced into their 
dance received attention. 
The first actors were women, who went 
through the household occupations of the Es¬ 
kimo in pantomime, illustrating the curing and 
dressing of skins, the sewing and making of 
garments, adapting the movements to the 
woman’s dance. 
Then a Unalaklit man took the floor and de¬ 
picted the life of a walrus. 
He wore a very life-like looking walrus mask, 
and enacted the features of the walrus hunt, 
modifying the usual gestures. In pantomime he 
showed the clumsy movements of the great ani¬ 
mal moving over the ice, the hunter approach¬ 
ing, and his hasty plunge into the water, then 
the hunter paddling furiously after him, the 
harpoon thrust, and the struggles of the dying 
walrus. 
Next two young Unalit gave the Red Fox 
dance. They wore the usual fur trimmings and 
masks, and the leader flourished a fox foot with 
which he kept time to the music. This dance 
depicted the cunning habits of the little beast, 
and his finish in the trap of the hunter. The 
Unalaklit responded with the White Fox dance, 
which was quite similar, showing a fox stalking 
a ptarmigan. One actor represented the fox 
and the' other the ptarmigan. The stealthy 
movements and spring of the fox were cleverly 
given. 
The Unalit, on whom the dance had made a 
great impression, put forward their best dancer 
in the celebrated Crow Dance. 
The dancer entered from behind the press of 
the crowd, stooping low and imitating the caw¬ 
ing of the raven. The cries appeared to come 
from above, below, in fact, everywhere in the 
room. Then he appeared in all his glory. He 
wore a raven mask with an immense beak, and 
bordered with fur and feathers. Labrets and 
fillets of wood adorned the sides, and a spotted 
black and white design covered the forehead. 
He bore a staff in his hand decorated with a 
single feather. After pirouetting around the 
room in a ridiculous fashion, he disappeared in 
the crowd and appeared dragging a bashful 
woman, who was similarly attired. They danced 
for a short time together, the raven continuing 
his amatory capers. Then, evidently tiring of 
her charms, he disappeared into the crowd on 
the opposite side of the kazgi and reappeared 
bearing in tow another bride, evidently younger. 
After squawking and pirouetting around her 
for a while, the three danced, the two women 
supporting him, making a pleasing background 
of waving arms and feathers. At the conclu¬ 
sion of the dance, he seeks again his first love, 
and is angrily repulsed while seeking to embrace 
her. This greatly amuses the audience. Then 
the three leave the scene, quarrelling and push¬ 
ing one another. 
This concluded the dances proper. Then the 
shaman donned au inua mask, and began run¬ 
ning around the entrance hole in ever lessening- 
circles. He finally tumbled over and lay in 
trance, the while he was communing with the 
spirit-guests (so the Eskimo told me) in the 
fire-place below. After a time he came to and 
informed the hunters that the inua had been 
pleased with the dances and promised their fur¬ 
ther protection for a successful season. 
After appropriate offerings of meat and drink 
and tobacco had been made to them through the 
cracks in the floor, the celebration broke up, and 
the Unalaklit started home. 
RETURN OF SALMON AFTER SPAWNING. 
4 Park St., Boston, Mass. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I wonder if one of your correspondents hasn't 
given us the clew to that matter? He points out 
that in a certain short river the salmon do go 
back to the sea. We kn'ow that in the average, 
long river they don’t. Now, consider! 
Madame Salmon has lived on the fat of the 
sea for years. She doubtless never knew there 
what it meant to go without a wanted dinner. 
Privation means naught to her, and when under 
the mating instinct she starts up-stream to her 
intended maternity 'hospital she never gives it a 
thought. 
Now, the way up is strenuous, and long. Time 
is an object, and She hurries. The river is prob¬ 
ably swept clean of food by those ahead, to all 
intents and purposes, and she doesn’t dare wait to 
find any. Days go, and her strength ebbs. Then 
comes the strenuous strain of mating, and leaves 
her “gastados” as the Spanish say, “expended.” 
Food might restore her vitality; but there isn’t 
any. How can she make that return journey 
without it. She can’t, that’s all; and she doesn’t. 
Life ends for her right there. 
But—given a short river, within easy reach of 
a food-supply again, and that’s another story. 
Is there aught wrong with that theory? 
JOHN PRESTON TRUE. 
