Allan and the Ice Gods (24 page)

cave and beckoned to Wi, who sat shivering without. For a little while

he hesitated, then entered to find that she had heaped wood upon the

fire, which burned gloriously. In front of it she sat upon the seaweed

of her bed that she had gathered to a pile, changed indeed from what

she had been when first he saw her lying at the bottom of the hollowed

log.

Looking at her, he thought that she must have washed herself at the

spring before he saw her praying to the moon, for there was no longer

any brine upon her face or arms, also her blue cloak and other

garments were dry and, to his sight, who had never seen such robes,

splendid. Moreover, she was drawing through the masses of her yellow

hair something with many sharp points made of horn or bone, which

doubtless she had taken from her bag, a new thing to Wi, for combs

were unknown amongst the people, though now, when he looked upon it

and saw its use, he wondered that they had not thought of them before.

While she was still engaged upon this task and the long yellow waving

hair that had been so mattered and tangled separated itself till it

hung about her glittering in the firelight, a garment in itself that

hid her to the waist, Wi stood before her awkwardly, for he was

amazed. Then he bethought him that by now she must be hungry again,

and lifting his bag that lay near by, he poured out more of the

shredded codfish and offered it to her. She began to eat heartily

enough, till some thought seemed to strike her, and she pointed first

to the codfish, then to Wi’s mouth, also lower down, saying as plainly

as signs could do, that he, too, must be hungry.

He shook his head, pretending that this was not so, but she would not

be deceived, and held out a piece of the fish toward him, refusing to

eat any more until it was swallowed. The end of it was that together

they finished all remaining in the bag, eating alternately.

It was just as Wi was offering the last fragment to the Sea-witch,

that Pag appeared at the mouth of the cave and stood staring at them

outlined against the bright background of the fire, as though he

believed them to be ghosts.

The Sea-witch, glancing up, perceived this squat, bow-legged form,

great head, and ugly, one-eyed face, and for the first time was

frightened. At least, she grasped Wi’s arm and looked at him in

inquiry, whereon, not knowing what else to do, he smiled, patted her

hand, and spoke to Pag in a commanding voice, of which she understood

the tones, if not the words.

“What are you doing here?” Wi asked.

“I wonder,” answered Pag reflectively, “for in this cave there seems

to be no place for me. Still, if you would know, I followed your

footprints hither, fearing lest harm had befallen you—as I think it

has,” he added still more reflectively, fixing his one bright eye upon

the Sea-witch.

“Have you brought any food with you?” asked Wi, who to tell the truth

desired to fend off explanations for a while. “If so, give it to me,

for this maiden,” and he nodded at the Sea-witch, “has fasted long and

is still hungry.”

“How do you know that she is not married and that she has fasted

long?” asked Pag inconsequently, adding, “Can you talk her language?”

“No,” answered Wi, seizing upon the last part of the question and

ignoring the rest. “I found her floating in a hollow log which lies

yonder on the beach and brought her back to life.”

“Then you found something that was worth finding, Wi, for she is very

beautiful,” said Pag, “though what Aaka will say about her, I do not

know.”

“Nor do I,” answered Wi, rubbing his brow, “or the people either.”

“Perhaps she is a witch whom you would do well to kill. Urk and N’gae

tell of such, Wi.”

“Perhaps, Pag, but, witch or woman, I do not mean to kill her.”

“I understand that, Wi, for who could kill anything so lovely? Look at

her face and shape and hair, and those great eyes.”

“I have looked at them already,” replied Wi with irritation. “Cease

your foolish talk and tell me what I am to do.”

Pag pondered a while and replied:

“I think that you had better marry her and tell the people that the

Ice-gods, or the Sea-gods, or any other gods, gave her to you, which

indeed they seem to have done.”

“Fool! how do I know that she would marry me who am so far beneath

her? Also there is the new law.”

“Ah!” said Pag, “I always misdoubted me of that law, and now I

understand why I did so. Well, if you will not kill her and will not

marry her, you must bring her to the village, and since she cannot

live with Aaka or in the cave, or in any place where there is another

woman, you must set her in a hut by herself. There is a very fine one

empty quite near the mouth of the cave, so that you could look at her

whenever you liked.”

Wi, who was thinking of other things, asked in an absent-minded way

what hut was empty.

“That of Rahi the Miser who, you remember, died last week, as some

said from fear of the tiger, but as I believe of grief because you

ordered him to divide up his fish hooks and flint knives with those

who had none.”

“Yes, I remember,” said Wi, “and, by the way, have you got the fish

hooks?”

“Not yet, Wi, but I shall have them soon, for I am sure that old woman

who lived with Rahi and who has run away from the hut buried them in

his grave, as he ordered her to do. Presently, I will catch her and

find out. Meanwhile, there is the hut all ready.”

“Yes,” said Wi, “the women who nurse the children in the cave can look

after this Sea-witch.”

Pag shook his head doubtfully and remarked he did not think that any

woman would look after her, as the young ones would be jealous and the

old ones afraid.

“Especially,” he added, “as you say that she is a witch.”

“I say no such words,” exclaimed Wi angrily, “Sea-witch I named her

because she came out of the sea and I know no other.”

“Or because she is a witch,” suggested Pag. “Still, let us try to

learn how she calls herself.”

“Yes,” said Wi, “it is well to do that, for if the women refuse her I

shall give her into your care.”

“I have known worse tasks,” answered Pag. Then he turned to the Sea-witch who all this while watched them steadily, guessing that they

were talking of her, and clapped his hands as though to awake her,

which was not needful. Next he tapped Wi upon the breast and said,

“Wi.” Then he tapped his own breast and said, “Pag.” Several times he

did this, then tapped her arm and, pointing his finger at her, looked

a question.

At first she seemed puzzled, but after the third repetition of the

tappings and the names she understood, for she smiled, a quick, bright

smile, then, pointing at each of them, repeated, “Wi-i, Pa-ag.”

Lastly, she set her finger on her breast and added, “La-lee-la.”

They nodded and exclaimed together, “La-lee-la,” whereon she nodded

back, and smiling again, repeated, “Laleela.” Then they talked about

the canoe, and, taking her to it, showed her by signs that they

proposed to hide it in the cave, to which she seemed to assent.

So, having emptied the water out of it, they dragged the canoe to the

cave and, after Pag had examined it with much interest, for in this

strange and useful thing he saw a great discovery, they hid it beneath

piles of seaweed, burying the paddles, of which they found two,

beneath the sand of the cave. This done, Wi took her by the hand and

as best he could, showed her that she must accompany them. At first

she seemed afraid and hung back, but presently shrugged her shoulders,

sighed, looked imploringly at Wi as though to ask him to protect her,

and walked forward between them.

An hour or more later, Aaka, Moananga, Tana, and Foh, who were

watching on the outskirts of the village, being frightened because Wi

had not returned, caught sight of the three of them walking toward

them.

“Look!” cried Foh, as they came into view from round the spur of the

glacier mountain. “There are Father and Pag and a Beautiful One.”

“Beautiful she is indeed,” said Moananga, while his wife stared open-eyed. But Aaka only exclaimed:

“You call her beautiful, and so she is, but I say that she is a witch

come to bring evil upon our heads.”

Tana watched this tall stranger advancing with a gliding step across

the sands; noted her blue cloak and amber necklace, her yellow tresses

and, when she came nearer, her great dark eyes set in a face that was

pink as the lining of a shell. Then she said:

“You are right, Aaka—here comes a witch, if not of the sort you mean,

such a witch as you and I wish that we could be.”

“Your meaning?” asked Aaka.

“I mean that this one will draw the hearts of all men after her and

earn the hate of all women, which is what everyone of us would do if

she could.”

“So you say,” said Aaka, “but I hold otherwise.”

“Yet you will walk the same road as the rest of us, although you hold

your head sideways and pretend that it is different, you who tell us

that Wi is nothing to you and who treat him so badly, and yet always

watch him out of the corners of your eyes,” said Tana, who had never

loved Aaka overmuch and was very fond of Wi.

Now Aaka would have answered sharply enough, but at this moment the

three came up to her. Foh dashed forward and threw his arms about his

father, who bent down and kissed him. Moananga uttered some word of

welcome, for he, who loved his brother, was glad to see him safe, and

Tana smiled doubtfully, her eyes fixed upon the stranger’s marvellous

robe and necklace. Wi offered some greeting to Aaka, who answered:

“Welcome, Husband. We feared for you, and are glad to see you safe,

and your shadow with you”—here she glanced at Pag. “But who is this

third in a strange robe? Is it a tall boy whom you have found, or

perhaps a woman?”

“A woman, I think,” answered Wi. “Study her and you will see for

yourself, Wife.”

“It is needless, for doubtless you know, Husband. But if so, where did

you find her?”

“The story is long, Wife, but the heart of it is that I saw her

floating in a hollow log yesterday and, swimming out, brought her to

shore in the Bay of Seals.”

“Is it so? Then where did you sleep last night? For know that we

feared for you.”

“In the cavern at the Bay of Seals. At least the woman Laleela slept

there after I had brought her back to life.”

“Indeed, and how did you learn her name?”

“Ask Pag,” said Wi shortly. “He learned it, not I.”

“So Pag’s hand is in the business as in every other. Well, I hope that

this witch whom he has brought to you is not one of his gray wolves

turned to the shape of woman.”

“I have said that I found her myself and carried her to the cave,

where Pag came to us this morning. Laugh if you will, but it is true,

as Pag can tell you.”

“Doubtless Pag will tell me anything that you wish, Husband. Yet–-”

Here Wi grew angry and exclaimed:

“Have done. I need food and rest, as does this stranger Laleela.”

Then he walked forward with Laleela and Pag, who grinned as he went,

followed by the others, except Tana, who had run on ahead to tell the

people what had happened.

The news spread fast—so fast that, when they reached the village,

even from the huts that were farthest off, folk were rushing to look

on this Witch-from-the-Sea whom Wi had found, for a witch they knew

she must be, because they of the tribe were the only people who lived,

or ever had lived, in the world. Of course, there was the Dead One who

stood in the ice with the Sleeper, but if he were a man, of which they

were not sure, doubtless he was one of their forefathers. Therefore

this was no woman whom Wi and Pag brought with them, but a ghost or a

spirit.

When they beheld her walking between the pair in such a calm and

stately fashion, like a stag indeed, as one of them said, and noted

her long yellow hair and the whiteness of her skin, her height, taller

by a head than any of them except Aaka, and her wonderful blue cloak

and other garments, the broidered sandals on her feet, the amber

necklace on her breast and everything else about her, not forgetting

her large, dark eyes, liquid and soft as a deer’s yet somewhat

scornful, then, of course, they knew that they were right and that

this was in truth a witch, for no woman could look like that. They

stared, they gaped, they pointed; some of the children ran away—here

was proof of the worst—so did certain of the dogs that bounded

forward barking, but on seeing and smelling that at which they barked,

had turned tail and fled, as it was their custom to do from ghosts who

pelted them with invisible stones. So, a dirty, unkempt, half-clothed

crowd, they stared on while, guarded on either side like a captive by

Wi and Pag, Laleela glided through them, glancing now to right and now

to left with unchanging face and saying nothing.

At first they were silent; then, when she had passed and with her the