The Seven Little Sisters Who Live on the Round Ball That Floats in the Air | Page 9

the dogs run away with it.
You can imagine what gay frolics she has with her brother who runs at
her side, or how she laughs and shouts to see him drive his bone ball
with his bone bat or hockey, skimming it over the crusty snow.
Now we will creep into the low house with the child and her mother,
and see how they live.
Outside it is very cold, colder than you have ever known it to be in the
coldest winter's day; but inside it is warm, even very hot. And the first
thing Agoonack and her mother do is to take off their clothes, for here
it is as warm as the place where the brown baby lives, who needs no
clothes.
It isn't the sunshine that makes it warm, for you remember I told you it

was as dark as night. There is no furnace in the cellar; indeed, there is
no cellar, neither is there a stove. But all this heat comes from a sort of
lamp, with long wicks of moss and plenty of walrus fat to burn. It
warms the small house, which has but one room, and over it the mother
hangs a shallow dish in which she cooks soup; but most of the meat is
eaten raw, cut into long strips, and eaten much as one might eat a stick
of candy.
They have no bread, no crackers, no apples nor potatoes; nothing but
meat, and sometimes the milk of the reindeer, for there are no cows in
the far, cold northern countries. But the reindeer gives them a great deal:
he is their horse as well as their cow; his skin and his flesh, his bones
and horns, are useful when he is dead, and while he lives he is their
kind, gentle, and patient friend.
There is some one else in the hut when Agoonack comes home,--a little
dark ball, rolled up on one corner of the stone platform which is built
all around three sides of the house, serving for seats, beds, and table.
This rolled-up ball unrolls itself, tumbles off the seat, and runs to meet
them. It is Sipsu, the baby brother of Agoonack,--a round little boy,
who rides sometimes, when the weather is not too cold, in the hood of
his mother's jumper, hanging at her back, and peering out from his
warm nestling-place over the long icy plain to watch for his father's
return from the bear-hunt.
When the men come home dragging the great Nannook, as they call the
bear, there is a merry feast. They crowd together in the hut, bringing in
a great block of snow, which they put over the lamp-fire to melt into
water; and then they cut long strips of bear's meat, and laugh and eat
and sing, as they tell the long story of the hunt of Nannook, and the
seals they have seen, and the foot-tracks of the reindeer they have met
in the long valley.
Perhaps the day will come when pale, tired travellers will come to their
sheltering home, and tell them wonderful stories, and share their
warmth for a while, till they can gain strength to go on their journey
again.
Perhaps while they are so merry there all together, a very great
snowstorm will come and cover the little house, so that they cannot get
out for several days. When the storm ends, they dig out the low
doorway, and creep again into the starlight, and Agoonack slips into

her warm clothes and runs out for Jack Frost to kiss her cheeks, and
leave roses wherever his lips touch. If it is very cold indeed, she must
stay in, or Jack Frost will give her no roses, but a cold, frosty bite.
This is the way Agoonack lives through the long darkness. But I have
to tell you more of her in another chapter, and you will find it is not
always dark in the cold northern countries.

HOW AGOONACK LIVES THROUGH THE LONG SUMMER.
It is almost noon one day when Agoonack's mother wraps the little girl
in her shaggy clothes and climbs with her a high hill, promising a
pleasant sight when they shall have reached the top.
It is the sun, the beautiful, bright, round sun, which shines and smiles at
them for a minute, and then slips away again below the far, frozen
water.
They haven't seen him for many months, and now they rejoice, for the
next day he comes again and stays longer, and the next, and the next,
and every day longer and longer, until at last he moves above them in
one great, bright circle, and does not even go away at all at night. His
warm rays melt the snow and awaken the