The Haunted Igloo

by Bonnie Turner

  Chinook roared with laughter. “And so is Nanuk! But I want to know what happened in the haunted igloo. What did you see?”

  Jean-Paul leaned closer to Chinook and whispered, “You would not believe! I saw the eyes of the torngark, all slimy green slits! No bodies, Chinook, just those terrible eyes, blinking on and off, coming closer and closer! Then a stinky red smoke came up from the floor. There was screaming, howling, and moaning. Then, a very old man—” He stopped talking and opened his eyes wide at Chinook. The igloo was filled with breathless suspense.

  “Come on, Jean-Paul! And then what?” Chinook was almost jumping up and down. “What? What?”

  Jean-Paul could hardly keep from laughing at the look on his friend’s face. “Well, the old man was sitting on the back of the biggest, blackest, meanest-looking wolf in the world!”

  Chinook stared open-mouthed at Jean-Paul. His eyes had taken on the red of the fire. “But you’re alive. How did you get away from them?”

  Jean-Paul crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. Chinook shivered, too. Even Cordell and Lise shivered. Then Chinook’s mother, thinking it a game, crossed her arms and shook her fat body and giggled. Lichen didn’t shiver. She babbled a long chain of Inuit baby words that nobody understood. Taguk didn’t shiver, either. He sat staring from one to the other, wondering why everyone was cold when there was a perfectly good fire going.

  “It was very simple,” Jean-Paul said, finally. “When I was scared enough to die, Sasha jumped at the wolf! And the whole thing started flashing colors. And then it just curled up and disappeared out the smoke hole. Poof!” He threw his hands into the air. “Just like that, it was all gone!”

  “Wow!” exclaimed Chinook.

  “And the green eyes disappeared. But after everything was gone, I could still hear that wolf howling. I still smelled that awful smell.” He held his nose and said, “Phew!”

  “Poo!” cried Lichen.

  Chinook said, “Wait till I tell Aiverk and Nanuk!”

  Cordell laughed and said, “That’s some story, Jean-Paul! No one would believe it in a million years!”

  Chinook said, “We were only teasing Jean-Paul about the apudyak being haunted, Monsieur Ardoin. But now I think it really is. I hope it melts all the way to the South Pole!”

  After they left the igloo, Cordell said to Jean-Paul, “I think you stretched the truth a little, eh?”

  “I guess it paid him back!”

  Lise sat on the sled, ready for the trip home. “Do you really need to pay anyone back, Jean-Paul? Did Chinook and your other friends twist your arms to make you stay in the igloo?”

  Jean-Paul thought about that. “I think it was partly my own fault. I wanted to join Ice Patrol so much that I even ate raw fish and let them trap me in the igloo.”

  Lise gave him a big hug as he curled up next to her on the sled. “I knew I could count on you.”

  Chapter 8

  Throughout January, Chinook spent his spare time helping Jean-Paul train Sasha to run with a sled. Days were growing longer now, gaining about seven minutes of light a day. Then, on January 24, the sun appeared for the first time since last November. It was a welcome sight for this darkness-weary family from the south of Canada.

  The Ardoins watched the breathtaking sunrise, as they had watched the sunset several months before. First, spikes of red and gold light flared up from the horizon as the great mass of Earth’s shadow rushed into space. This was followed by the blood-red arc of the sun, leaving the family speechless. However, as welcome as it was, the sun did little to banish the cold.

  One morning at breakfast Jean-Paul and his family heard a rumbling noise and went outside to investigate. On the southern horizon was a great, moving white cloud.

  “Caribou!” said Cordell. “Hundreds of caribou. That cloud is vapor from the warmth of their bodies in the cold air.”

  “Wow!” exclaimed Jean-Paul.

  “They’re probably going to a feeding ground near the mountains,” Cordell said. “They’ll find some trees there to gnaw on. In a few more weeks they might find other food, such as moss growing on rocks.”

  “Lichen,” Lise said, with a laugh. “Reindeer moss!”

  Cordell put his arm around her. “And in a few months, so I am told, the mother caribou will all go to a special birthing place to have their calves.”

  It was the first time they’d seen caribou so near their cabin. They watched the cloud silently until the herd rumbled out of sight over the horizon.

  When they went back inside, Lise said, “Isn’t the daylight fantastic! It’s one of the best things about living here, seeing the sun for the first time in months. Soon there will be alpine flowers, and geese honking overhead, looking for open water and a place to nest.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “How I love the sound of honking geese!”

  “Don’t forget the insects!” Cordell said. “Swarms of mosquitos and other insects to feed thousands of nesting birds!”

  Jean-Paul sat down and helped himself to some bannock and the last of their strawberry jam, brought with them from Quebec. When he set the empty jar back on the table, Lise picked it up and peered inside. “Well,” she said, “that’s the last of the jam till our ship comes in again.”

  “Our airship!” said Jean-Paul with a mouthful of bread. “How many weeks now, Pa?”

  Cordell picked up his mug of coffee, and took a long drink. He smacked his lips, wiped his whiskers with the back of his hand, and held out the mug for more. He looked at Jean-Paul.

  “The planes won’t return till this weather breaks,” he said. “I won’t have much to trade this year though. We’ll have to buy supplies with my government check—if it comes with the plane. All I’ve trapped so far are a few rabbits and that gray wolf last week. Not many, but the pelts are nice and thick. It’s still early enough to trap. What I’d like are some foxes.” Cordell stopped talking and looked right at Jean-Paul.

  Jean-Paul caught the glance and guessed his father was thinking about Jean-Paul’s trap, which still hadn’t caught anything. He had just about given up hope of trapping an Arctic fox for his mother. His stay in the haunted igloo, and the illness after, had prevented him from working with the trap. Maybe his father would help reset and bait it. In the meantime, today was Sunday, and Chinook was coming again to work with Sasha and the sled.

  Chinook had already been to visit Jean-Paul twice. The first time had been to see the rock collection. The next time, he brought Nanuk and Aiverk, and the four of them gave Sasha her first lesson.

  Now, as if reading Jean-Paul’s mind, his father said, “How’s the training coming? Is the dog learning anything?”

  Jean-Paul swallowed the last of his bite. “She’s doing okay. But I expected her to be pulling a sled by this time without help from me or Chinook.”

  Cordell leaned back in his chair. “You must remember she’s still just a pup. Right now she thinks it’s a game.”

  Jean-Paul laughed. “You should have seen what she did to Chinook the first time he put the harness on her. He was holding the lead when she decided to run off. And poor old Chinook lost his balance on the snow and went sliding along on his belly! It was the funniest thing I ever saw!”

  His father grunted. “Maybe someone should tell her she needs a sled behind her before she runs, eh?” Jean-Paul burst out laughing.

  “She ran about a mile!” he said, coming up for air. “And Chinook had to let go so she wouldn’t drag him all the way to Great Bear Lake on his belly. She’s a strong dog, Pa! A really strong dog, and you know she was the runt of the litter. She might not be big, but she’s strong. I’ll bet she could run for six days without stopping once!”

  Before Jean-Paul could say more, the huskies began howling. Lise filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat. She went over and opened the door, saying, “Let me guess. Why, of course, it’s someone named Chinook!”

  Jean-Paul stuffed another bite of bannock into his mouth and ran over to greet his friend.<
br />
  Chinook stomped into the cabin with Sasha following happily, carrying her bushy tail curled high above her back. There even appeared to be a smile on her face. Lise closed the door behind Chinook, who stood grinning from ear to ear. He pushed back his fur hood and unfastened his parka. “Are you eating again, Jean-Paul?”

  Lise sighed. “It’s all he ever does, Chinook. I suspect one of these days he’ll be bigger than his father. Do you think he’ll grow that big?”

  Chinook looked at Cordell. “Even my own father will never be that big. But I think he has stopped growing.” The boy laughed. “With the way Jean-Paul eats, if he doesn’t grow tall, he will just get very wide.”

  “Just like you, Blubbermouth!”

  “Jean-Paul!” said his mother.

  But Chinook knew the name was all in fun. He laughed so hard that his face turned as red as a fresh caribou steak. “I love it!” he cried. “I love it! Now Jean-Paul’s acting like my other insulting friends! Blubbermouth! That’s the perfect name for Aiverk! I can’t wait to call him that!” He continued laughing until tears ran down his face and he could not get his breath. Sasha nudged the boy’s hand and sniffed his parka.

  Jean-Paul grinned and pulled on his boots. He watched Sasha from the corner of his eye. Chinook sure has a way with dogs, he thought. Look at her sniffing and licking around on him. Maybe he carries a salmon in his pocket.

  It was true that Sasha was happy to see Chinook, salmon or not. Right now she stood on her hind legs, her front paws on the boy’s chest, eagerly licking his cheek. Chinook petted the dog’s muzzle. “Maybe you won’t like me so much when we get done today. Today I’m going to hitch you up with Amarok! That one will teach you what’s what, unless you want to sit on your fine tail the rest of your life!”

  A few minutes later, the boys harnessed Sasha behind Amarok. With Jean-Paul on the sled and Chinook steering from behind with the gee pole, Chinook yelled, “Hah! Hah!” Amarok had been impatient. Understanding the command, he leaned into his own harness and strained, forgetting the smaller husky trailing behind.

  At first Sasha was confused by the signals Chinook gave Amarok. Chinook shouted in Inuktitut, and Sasha went sliding on her hind legs as Amarok pulled sharply around. After a moment she regained her footing and was soon running in the right direction, following Amarok’s lead.

  “Good girl!” Jean-Paul yelled. “Hah! Go, Sasha, hah!”

  Chinook stood on the runners. He yelled into Jean-Paul’s ear, “We don’t have to worry anymore! That’s one smart dog!”

  When the session was over, the boys sat on the side of the sled and talked. Chinook said, “I almost forgot to tell you. Taguk is mending his kayak. When the ice leaves the river, we’ll all go kayaking.”

  Jean-Paul had gone in his father’s canoe several times the summer before, but had never been in a kayak. He said, “I can hardly wait!” He paused a moment. “I remember how the ice sounded last year when it broke up. It crashed against the shore and sounded like great cannon shots.” In his mind’s eye, Jean-Paul could see the groaning ice floes as they wrenched free and crashed, sometimes piling up against each other on the land. “Kayaking sounds like great fun, Chinook! Dangerous, but fun!”

  ____________

  The following week Jean-Paul spent a night in Chinook’s igloo. This was his first night to sleep in an igloo since the time in the haunted one. He looked around at the fire flickering on the wall and at the personal belongings that made this particular igloo home: the sleeping ledge piled high with polar bear furs, wet clothes drying beside the fire, Arnayak’s cooking utensils, and her sewing. Above all, the warmth and scent of human bodies reminded him he was not alone. There were no evil spirits here tonight, only his friends. Jean-Paul was too excited to be afraid. Early the next morning, Aiverk and Nanuk would come, and the four would go spear fishing through the ice.

  Chinook’s father was on a hunting trip with other Inuit men, but the old grandfather, Kiakshuk, was there.

  Before bedtime Chinook said, “Grandfather will tell us a story now. Grandfathers are great storytellers. Kiakshuk knows many stories. I’ll ask him to speak slowly so I can repeat the words for my friend.”

  Kiakshuk called the baby, Lichen, to him, and took her into his lap. Jean-Paul was warm and comfortable. He felt happy sharing the evening with his new friends.

  Kiakshuk told a story about a man called Net-ser-su-it-su-ar-suk, who could not catch seals like other Inuit men.

  Soon, Lichen fell asleep on Kiakshuk’s lap. Jean-Paul was sleepy, too. But he listened to a few other stories. The one he liked best was a prayer for good seal hunting, sung to a goddess named Nuliajuk.

  After the storytelling, Arnayak took Lichen from Kiakshuk’s arms and tucked her beneath a bearskin. Jean-Paul, Chinook, and Kiakshuk also went to bed, Jean-Paul curling up next to his friend in the thick animal hides.

  Sometime during the night, Jean-Paul dreamed he speared his first fish.

  ____________

  In mid-February Jean-Paul found a fox in his trap. Sasha moved close to the trapped animal. She whined, then touched its tail with a paw. She jumped back and barked at it.

  Jean-Paul walked around the trap, looking at the fox from all angles. It was a terrible sight. The dead fox’s eyes were open and glassy. They stared right up at him over the long, pointy nose. Small ears stood up sharply, a tip of black tongue stuck out between tightly clenched teeth. The coat was thick and creamy. After tanning, it would be soft and shiny. There would even be a nice brush-tail trophy for Jean-Paul’s room.

  Suddenly, Jean-Paul did not feel excited, for there was a look of suffering in the fox’s beady, black eyes.

  “Oh, Sasha,” he whispered, as if the fox might still hear. “I killed a poor little fox that never did anything to me ... and made its foot hurt like mine does.”

  Sasha sniffed some more at the fox and sat back down to look at it.

  Jean-Paul whistled for the dog. “Well, come on. I have to go tell Pa.”

  A short time later, Jean-Paul went to his father, who sat at his desk studying a small chunk of greenish ore with a magnifying glass. “What’s that?” Jean-Paul asked. “Gold?”

  Cordell laid down the glass and turned to Jean-Paul. “Not gold, I’m sorry to say. This is a chunk of copper ore. It came from Yukon Territory, near an old mining town.” Cordell shook his bushy head and laughed softly. “If there’s more where this came from—!”

  Jean-Paul looked more closely at the ore. “It’s big.”

  “I’m going to Yukon in a couple of weeks,” Cordell said.

  Jean-Paul glanced around the room. “Where’s Ma?”

  Cordell pointed to the bedroom door. “Resting,” he said.

  Jean-Paul lowered his voice. “I caught a fox, Pa.”

  Cordell cracked a wide grin. He pushed back his chair, scraping it noisily across the floor. “Well, well! So you finally got your”—he lowered his own voice and leaned down to Jean-Paul’s ear—“fox!”

  “Can you come with me?”

  “I suppose I’d better,” Cordell said, going for his parka. “It isn’t every day a boy traps his first fox.”

  He tiptoed to the bedroom door and peeked inside. “She’s asleep.”

  When Jean-Paul and his father returned with the fox, they went directly into the shed. “I’ll skin it for you,” Cordell said, “but you’ll flesh it.”

  Jean-Paul eyed the bloody animal. “I don’t really want to, Pa.”

  “Nonsense. Time you learned.”

  Jean-Paul had never liked the skinning part of trapping. His stomach turned over as his father pulled the hide away from the flesh. “No,” Jean-Paul repeated, backing away. “I can’t.”

  Cordell laid the knife down and stood up. “If you want to trap wild animals, you have to learn to do it all.”

  “I guess I never thought about the fox dying. I didn’t mean to hurt it.”

  Cordell’s voice was serious when he spoke. “No one likes to hurt animals, J
ean-Paul. But in this cold country, people depend on animals for clothing and food. You know that.”

  Jean-Paul knew that the meat from this fox would feed their own huskies. But he was still unhappy.

  “It seems cruel,” he said, frowning. “Do you think God minds?”

  Cordell smiled gently through his beard. “If it’s necessary to destroy an animal for food or clothing, then He might not mind. How else would the Eskimos and Indians have survived in this climate, if not for the wild critters? God always provides for His people, and those with wisdom enough to understand this will survive.”

  Jean-Paul swallowed the lump in his throat. What his father said sounded reasonable. “I want the baby to have a fox-fur parka and boots. I’ll flesh the hide, but I won’t like doing it.”

  Cordell handed Jean-Paul the flesher. “It will take a while to scrape off the flesh that clings. Be careful not to tear the skin.”

  Jean-Paul worked for a long time scraping the hide. It was hard work, but after a while the pelt began looking better. All it needed now was washing and stretching and softening.

  ____________

  A couple of weeks later, Jean-Paul gave his mother the pelt.

  “Fur?” she said.

  Jean-Paul grinned. It was the moment he had waited for. “Arctic fox fur for the baby,” he said.

  Cordell slipped an arm around Jean-Paul’s shoulders. “Jean-Paul trapped this fox, honey. Every time he disappeared, he was checking his trap.”

  “But nothing came for a long time,” Jean-Paul said. “Do you like it? I fleshed it myself.”

  His mother stroked the soft white fur. “I don’t know what to say, Jean-Paul.” She placed the pelt on the table and hugged him. “Such a thoughtful boy! Thank you, dear.”

  Suddenly Cordell said, “Did you remember I’m going to the Yukon next week to see about that copper?”