The Story of Keesh
by Jack London
Keesh lived long ago on the rim of the polar sea, was head man
of his village through many and prosperous years, and died full
of honors with his name on the lips of men. So long ago did
he live that only the old men remember his name, his name and the
tale, which they got from the old men before them, and which the
old men to come will tell to their children and their
children’s children down to the end of time. And the
winter darkness, when the north gales make their long sweep
across the ice-pack, and the air is filled with flying white, and
no man may venture forth, is the chosen time for the telling of
how Keesh, from the poorest igloo in the village, rose to
power and place over them all.
He was a bright boy, so the tale runs, healthy and strong, and
he had seen thirteen suns, in their way of reckoning time.
For each winter the sun leaves the land in darkness, and the next
year a new sun returns so that they may be warm again and look
upon one another’s faces. The father of Keesh had
been a very brave man, but he had met his death in a time of
famine, when he sought to save the lives of his people by taking
the life of a great polar bear. In his eagerness he came to
close grapples with the bear, and his bones were crushed; but the
bear had much meat on him and the people were saved. Keesh
was his only son, and after that Keesh lived alone with his
mother. But the people are prone to forget, and they forgot
the deed of his father; and he being but a boy, and his mother
only a woman, they, too, were swiftly forgotten, and ere long
came to live in the meanest of all the igloos.
It was at a council, one night, in the big igloo of
Klosh-Kwan, the chief, that Keesh showed the blood that ran in
his veins and the manhood that stiffened his back. With the
dignity of an elder, he rose to his feet, and waited for silence
amid the babble of voices.
“It is true that meat be apportioned me and mine,”
he said. “But it is ofttimes old and tough, this
meat, and, moreover, it has an unusual quantity of
The hunters, grizzled and gray, and lusty and young, were
aghast. The like had never been known before. A
child, that talked like a grown man, and said harsh things to
their very faces!
But steadily and with seriousness, Keesh went on.
“For that I know my father, Bok, was a great hunter, I
speak these words. It is said that Bok brought home more
meat than any of the two best hunters, that with his own hands he
attended to the division of it, that with his own eyes he saw to
it that the least old woman and the last old man received fair
“Na! Na!” the men cried. “Put the
child out!” “Send him off to bed!”
“He is no man that he should talk to men and
He waited calmly till the uproar died down.
“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
“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
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 shore-line 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
“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
Early next morning, however, Keesh strode into the
village. But he came not shamefacedly. Across his
shoulders he bore a burden of fresh-killed meat. And there
was importance in his step and arrogance in his speech.
“Go, ye men, with the dogs and sledges, and take my
trail for the better part of a day’s travel,” he
said. “There is much meat on the ice—a she-bear
and two half-grown cubs.”
Ikeega was overcome with joy, but he received her
demonstrations in manlike fashion, saying: “Come,
Ikeega, let us eat. And after that I shall sleep, for I am
And he passed into their igloo and ate profoundly, and
after that slept for twenty running hours.
There was much doubt at first, much doubt and
discussion. The killing of a polar bear is very dangerous,
but thrice dangerous is it, and three 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 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 father hunt with
him so that he may attain excellence and patience and
understanding? Who knows?”
None the less, his success continued, and the less skilful
hunters were often kept busy hauling in his meat. And in
the division of it he was just. As his father had done
before him, he saw to it that the least old woman and the last
old man received a fair portion, keeping no more for himself than
his needs required. And because of this, and of his merit
as a hunter, he was looked upon with respect, and even awe; and
there was talk of making him chief after old Klosh-Kwan.
Because of the things he had done, they looked for him to appear
again in the council, but he never came, and they were ashamed to
“I am minded to build me an igloo,” he said
one day to Klosh-Kwan and a number of the hunters.
“It shall be a large igloo, wherein Ikeega and I can
dwell in comfort.”
“Ay,” they nodded gravely.
“But I have no time. My business is hunting, and
it takes all my time. So it is but just that the men and
women of the village who eat my meat should build me my
And the igloo was built accordingly, on a generous
scale which exceeded even the dwelling of Klosh-Kwan. Keesh
and his mother moved into it, and it was the first prosperity she
had enjoyed since the death of Bok. Nor was material
prosperity alone hers, for, because of her wonderful son and the
position he had given her, she came to be looked upon as the
first woman in all the village; and the women were given to
visiting her, to asking her advice, and to quoting her wisdom
when arguments arose among themselves or with the men.
But it was the mystery of Keesh’s marvellous hunting
that took chief place in all their minds. And one day
Ugh-Gluk taxed him with witchcraft to his face.
“It is charged,” Ugh-Gluk said ominously,
“that thou dealest with evil spirits, wherefore thy hunting
“Is not the meat good?” Keesh made answer.
“Has one in the village yet to fall sick from the eating of
it? How dost thou know that witchcraft be concerned?
Or dost thou guess, in the dark, merely because of the envy that
And Ugh-Gluk withdrew discomfited, the women laughing at him
as he walked away. But in the council one night, after long
deliberation, it was determined to put spies on his track when he
went forth to hunt, so that his methods might be learned.
So, on his next trip, Bim and Bawn, two young men, and of hunters
the craftiest, followed after him, taking care not to be
seen. After five days they returned, their eyes bulging and
their tongues a-tremble to tell what they had seen. The
council was hastily called in Klosh-Kwan’s dwelling, and
Bim took up the tale.
“Brothers! As commanded, we journeyed on the trail
of Keesh, and cunningly we journeyed, so that he might not
know. And midway of the first day he picked up with a great
he-bear. It was a very great bear.”
“None greater,” Bawn corroborated, and went on
himself. “Yet was the bear not inclined to fight, for
he turned away and made off slowly over the ice. This we
saw from the rocks of the shore, and the bear came toward us, and
after him came Keesh, very much unafraid. And he shouted
harsh words after the bear, and waved his arms about, and made
much noise. Then did the bear grow angry, and rise up on
his hind legs, and growl. But Keesh walked right up to the
“Ay,” Bim continued the story. “Right
up to the bear Keesh walked. And the bear took after him,
and Keesh ran away. But as he ran he dropped a little round
ball on the ice. And the bear stopped and smelled of it,
then swallowed it up. And Keesh continued to run away and
drop little round balls, and the bear continued to swallow them
Exclamations and cries of doubt were being made, and Ugh-Gluk
expressed open unbelief.
“With our own eyes we saw it,” Bim affirmed.
And Bawn—“Ay, with our own eyes. And this
continued until the bear stood suddenly upright and cried aloud
in pain, and thrashed his fore paws madly about. And Keesh
continued to make off over the ice to a safe distance. But
the bear gave him no notice, being occupied with the misfortune
the little round balls had wrought within him.”
“Ay, within him,” Bim interrupted.
“For he did claw at himself, and leap about over the ice
like a playful puppy, save from the way he growled and squealed
it was plain it was not play but pain. Never did I see such
“Nay, never was such a sight seen,” Bawn took up
the strain. “And furthermore, it was such a large
“Witchcraft,” Ugh-Gluk suggested.
“I know not,” Bawn replied. “I tell
only of what my eyes beheld. And after a while the bear
grew weak and tired, for he was very heavy and he had jumped
about with exceeding violence, and he went off along the
shore-ice, shaking his head slowly from side to side and sitting
down ever and again to squeal and cry. And Keesh followed
after the bear, and we followed after Keesh, and for that day and
three days more we followed. The bear grew weak, and never
ceased crying from his pain.”
“It was a charm!” Ugh-Gluk exclaimed.
“Surely it was a charm!”
“It may well be.”
And Bim relieved Bawn. “The bear wandered, now
this way and now that, doubling back and forth and crossing his
trail in circles, so that at the end he was near where Keesh had
first come upon him. By this time he was quite sick, the
bear, and could crawl no farther, so Keesh came up close and
speared him to death.”
“And then?” Klosh-Kwan demanded.
“Then we left Keesh skinning the bear, and came running
that the news of the killing might be told.”
And in the afternoon of that day the women hauled in the meat
of the bear while the men sat in council assembled. When
Keesh arrived a messenger was sent to him, bidding him come to
the council. But he sent reply, saying that he was hungry
and tired; also that his igloo was large and comfortable
and could hold many men.
And curiosity was so strong on the men that the whole council,
Klosh-Kwan to the fore, rose up and went to the igloo of
Keesh. He was eating, but he received them with respect and
seated them according to their rank. Ikeega was proud and
embarrassed by turns, but Keesh was quite composed.
Klosh-Kwan recited the information brought by Bim and Bawn,
and at its close said in a stern voice: “So
explanation is wanted, O Keesh, of thy manner of hunting.
Is there witchcraft in it?”
Keesh looked up and smiled. “Nay, O
Klosh-Kwan. It is not for a boy to know aught of witches,
and of witches I know nothing. I have but devised a means
whereby I may kill the ice-bear with ease, that is all. It
be headcraft, not witchcraft.”
“And may any man?”
There was a long silence. The men looked in one
another’s faces, and Keesh went on eating.
“And . . . and . . . and wilt thou tell us, O
Keesh?” Klosh-Kwan finally asked in a tremulous voice.
“Yea, I will tell thee.” Keesh finished
sucking a marrow-bone and rose to his feet. “It is
quite simple. Behold!”
He picked up a thin strip of whalebone and showed it to
them. The ends were sharp as needle-points. The strip
he coiled carefully, till it disappeared in his hand. Then,
suddenly releasing it, it sprang straight again. He picked
up a piece of blubber.
“So,” he said, “one takes a small chunk of
blubber, thus, and thus makes it hollow. Then into the
hollow goes the whalebone, so, tightly coiled, and another piece
of blubber is fitted over the whale-bone. After that it is
put outside where it freezes into a little round ball. The
bear swallows the little round ball, the blubber melts, the
whalebone with its sharp ends stands out straight, the bear gets
sick, and when the bear is very sick, why, you kill him with a
spear. It is quite simple.”
And Ugh-Gluk said “Oh!” and Klosh-Kwan said
“Ah!” And each said something after his own
manner, and all understood.
And this is the story of Keesh, who lived long ago on the rim
of the polar sea. Because he exercised headcraft and not
witchcraft, he rose from the meanest igloo to be head man
of his village, and through all the years that he lived, it is
related, his tribe was prosperous, and neither widow nor weak one
cried aloud in the night because there was no meat.