Blood for blood, rank for rank.

­Thlinket Code.

“Hear now the death of Ligoun ­”

The speaker ceased, or rather suspended utterance, and gazed upon me with an eye of understanding.  I held the bottle between our eyes and the fire, indicated with my thumb the depth of the draught, and shoved it over to him; for was he not Palitlum, the Drinker?  Many tales had he told me, and long had I waited for this scriptless scribe to speak of the things concerning Ligoun; for he, of all men living, knew these things best.

He tilted back his head with a grunt that slid swiftly into a gurgle, and the shadow of a man’s torso, monstrous beneath a huge inverted bottle, wavered and danced on the frown of the cliff at our backs.  Palitlum released his lips from the glass with a caressing suck and glanced regretfully up into the ghostly vault of the sky where played the wan white light of the summer borealis.

“It be strange,” he said; “cold like water and hot like fire.  To the drinker it giveth strength, and from the drinker it taketh away strength.  It maketh old men young, and young men old.  To the man who is weary it leadeth him to get up and go onward, and to the man unweary it burdeneth him into sleep.  My brother was possessed of the heart of a rabbit, yet did he drink of it, and forthwith slay four of his enemies.  My father was like a great wolf, showing his teeth to all men, yet did he drink of it and was shot through the back, running swiftly away.  It be most strange.”

“It is ‘Three Star,’ and a better than what they poison their bellies with down there,” I answered, sweeping my hand, as it were, over the yawning chasm of blackness and down to where the beach fires glinted far below ­tiny jets of flame which gave proportion and reality to the night.

Palitlum sighed and shook his head.  “Wherefore I am here with thee.”

And here he embraced the bottle and me in a look which told more eloquently than speech of his shameless thirst.

“Nay,” I said, snuggling the bottle in between my knees.  “Speak now of Ligoun.  Of the ‘Three Star’ we will hold speech hereafter.”

“There be plenty, and I am not wearied,” he pleaded brazenly.  “But the feel of it on my lips, and I will speak great words of Ligoun and his last days.”

“From the drinker it taketh away strength,” I mocked, “and to the man unweary it burdeneth him into sleep.”

“Thou art wise,” he rejoined, without anger and pridelessly.  “Like all of thy brothers, thou art wise.  Waking or sleeping, the ‘Three Star’ be with thee, yet never have I known thee to drink overlong or overmuch.  And the while you gather to you the gold that hides in our mountains and the fish that swim in our seas; and Palitlum, and the brothers of Palitlum, dig the gold for thee and net the fish, and are glad to be made glad when out of thy wisdom thou deemest it fit that the ‘Three Star’ should wet our lips.”

“I was minded to hear of Ligoun,” I said impatiently.  “The night grows short, and we have a sore journey to-morrow.”

I yawned and made as though to rise, but Palitlum betrayed a quick anxiety, and with abruptness began: ­

“It was Ligoun’s desire, in his old age, that peace should be among the tribes.  As a young man he had been first of the fighting men and chief over the war-chiefs of the Islands and the Passes.  All his days had been full of fighting.  More marks he boasted of bone and lead and iron than any other man.  Three wives he had, and for each wife two sons; and the sons, eldest born and last and all died by his side in battle.  Restless as the bald-face, he ranged wide and far ­north to Unalaska and the Shallow Sea; south to the Queen Charlottes, ay, even did he go with the Kakes, it is told, to far Puget Sound, and slay thy brothers in their sheltered houses.

“But, as I say, in his old age he looked for peace among the tribes.  Not that he was become afraid, or overfond of the corner by the fire and the well-filled pot.  For he slew with the shrewdness and blood-hunger of the fiercest, drew in his belly to famine with the youngest, and with the stoutest faced the bitter seas and stinging trail.  But because of his many deeds, and in punishment, a warship carried him away, even to thy country, O Hair-Face and Boston Man; and the years were many ere he came back, and I was grown to something more than a boy and something less than a young man.  And Ligoun, being childless in his old age, made much of me, and grown wise, gave me of his wisdom.

“‘It be good to fight, O Palitlum,’ said he.  Nay, O Hair-Face, for I was unknown as Palitlum in those days, being called Olo, the Ever-Hungry.  The drink was to come after.  ‘It be good to fight,’ spoke Ligoun, ’but it be foolish.  In the Boston Man Country, as I saw with mine eyes, they are not given to fighting one with another, and they be strong.  Wherefore, of their strength, they come against us of the Islands and Passes, and we are as camp smoke and sea mist before them.  Wherefore I say it be good to fight, most good, but it be likewise foolish.’

“And because of this, though first always of the fighting men, Ligoun’s voice was loudest, ever, for peace.  And when he was very old, being greatest of chiefs and richest of men, he gave a potlatch.  Never was there such a potlatch.  Five hundred canoes were lined against the river bank, and in each canoe there came not less than ten of men and women.  Eight tribes were there; from the first and oldest man to the last and youngest babe were they there.  And then there were men from far-distant tribes, great travellers and seekers who had heard of the potlatch of Ligoun.  And for the length of seven days they filled their bellies with his meat and drink.  Eight thousand blankets did he give to them, as I well know, for who but I kept the tally and apportioned according to degree and rank?  And in the end Ligoun was a poor man; but his name was on all men’s lips, and other chiefs gritted their teeth in envy that he should be so great.

“And so, because there was weight to his words, he counselled peace; and he journeyed to every potlatch and feast and tribal gathering that he might counsel peace.  And so it came that we journeyed together, Ligoun and I, to the great feast given by Niblack, who was chief over the river Indians of the Skoot, which is not far from the Stickeen.  This was in the last days, and Ligoun was very old and very close to death.  He coughed of cold weather and camp smoke, and often the red blood ran from out his mouth till we looked for him to die.

“‘Nay,’ he said once at such time; ’it were better that I should die when the blood leaps to the knife, and there is a clash of steel and smell of powder, and men crying aloud what of the cold iron and quick lead.’  So, it be plain, O Hair-Face, that his heart was yet strong for battle.

“It is very far from the Chilcat to the Skoot, and we were many days in the canoes.  And the while the men bent to the paddles, I sat at the feet of Ligoun and received the Law.  Of small need for me to say the Law, O Hair-Face, for it be known to me that in this thou art well skilled.  Yet do I speak of the Law of blood for blood, and rank for rank.  Also did Ligoun go deeper into the matter, saying: ­

“’But know this, O Olo, that there be little honor in the killing of a man less than thee.  Kill always the man who is greater, and thy honor shall be according to his greatness.  But if, of two men, thou killest the lesser, then is shame thine, for which the very squaws will lift their lips at thee.  As I say, peace be good; but remember, O Olo, if kill thou must, that thou killest by the Law.’

“It is a way of the Thlinket-folk,” Palitlum vouchsafed half apologetically.

And I remembered the gun-fighters and bad men of my own Western land, and was not perplexed at the way of the Thlinket-folk.

“In time,” Palitlum continued, “we came to Chief Niblack and the Skoots.  It was a feast great almost as the potlatch of Ligoun.  There were we of the Chilcat, and the Sitkas, and the Stickeens who are neighbors to the Skoots, and the Wrangels and the Hoonahs.  There were Sundowns and Tahkos from Port Houghton, and their neighbors the Awks from Douglass Channel; the Naass River people, and the Tongas from north of Dixon, and the Kakes who come from the island called Kupreanoff.  Then there were Siwashes from Vancouver, Cassiars from the Gold Mountains, Teslin men, and even Sticks from the Yukon Country.

“It was a mighty gathering.  But first of all, there was to be a meeting of the chiefs with Niblack, and a drowning of all enmities in quass.  The Russians it was who showed us the way of making quass, for so my father told me, ­my father, who got it from his father before him.  But to this quass had Niblack added many things, such as sugar, flour, dried apples, and hops, so that it was a man’s drink, strong and good.  Not so good as ‘Three Star,’ O Hair-Face, yet good.

“This quass-feast was for the chiefs, and the chiefs only, and there was a score of them.  But Ligoun being very old and very great, it was given that I walk with him that he might lean upon my shoulder and that I might ease him down when he took his seat and raise him up when he arose.  At the door of Niblack’s house, which was of logs and very big, each chief, as was the custom, laid down his spear or rifle and his knife.  For as thou knowest, O Hair-Face, strong drink quickens, and old hates flame up, and head and hand are swift to act.  But I noted that Ligoun had brought two knives, the one he left outside the door, the other slipped under his blanket, snug to the grip.  The other chiefs did likewise, and I was troubled for what was to come.

“The chiefs were ranged, sitting, in a big circle about the room.  I stood at Ligoun’s elbow.  In the middle was the barrel of quass, and by it a slave to serve the drink.  First, Niblack made oration, with much show of friendship and many fine words.  Then he gave a sign, and the slave dipped a gourd full of quass and passed it to Ligoun, as was fit, for his was the highest rank.

“Ligoun drank it, to the last drop, and I gave him my strength to get on his feet so that he, too, might make oration.  He had kind speech for the many tribes, noted the greatness of Niblack to give such a feast, counselled for peace as was his custom, and at the end said that the quass was very good.

“Then Niblack drank, being next of rank to Ligoun, and after him one chief and another in degree and order.  And each spoke friendly words and said that the quass was good, till all had drunk.  Did I say all?  Nay, not all, O Hair-Face.  For last of them was one, a lean and catlike man, young of face, with a quick and daring eye, who drank darkly, and spat forth upon the ground, and spoke no word.

“To not say that the quass was good were insult; to spit forth upon the ground were worse than insult.  And this very thing did he do.  He was known for a chief over the Sticks of the Yukon, and further naught was known of him.

“As I say, it was an insult.  But mark this, O Hair-Face:  it was an insult, not to Niblack the feast-giver, but to the man chiefest of rank who sat among those of the circle.  And that man was Ligoun.  There was no sound.  All eyes were upon him to see what he might do.  He made no movement.  His withered lips trembled not into speech; nor did a nostril quiver, nor an eyelid droop.  But I saw that he looked wan and gray, as I have seen old men look of bitter mornings when famine pressed, and the women wailed and the children whimpered, and there was no meat nor sign of meat.  And as the old men looked, so looked Ligoun.

“There was no sound.  It were as a circle of the dead, but that each chief felt beneath his blanket to make sure, and that each chief glanced to his neighbor, right and left, with a measuring eye.  I was a stripling; the things I had seen were few; yet I knew it to be the moment one meets but once in all a lifetime.

“The Stick rose up, with every eye upon him, and crossed the room till he stood before Ligoun.

“‘I am Opitsah, the Knife,’ he said.

“But Ligoun said naught, nor looked at him, but gazed unblinking at the ground.

“‘You are Ligoun,’ Opitsah said.  ’You have killed many men.  I am still alive.’

“And still Ligoun said naught, though he made the sign to me and with my strength arose and stood upright on his two feet.  He was as an old pine, naked and gray, but still a-shoulder to the frost and storm.  His eyes were unblinking, and as he had not heard Opitsah, so it seemed he did not see him.

“And Opitsah was mad with anger, and danced stiff-legged before him, as men do when they wish to give another shame.  And Opitsah sang a song of his own greatness and the greatness of his people, filled with bad words for the Chilcats and for Ligoun.  And as he danced and sang, Opitsah threw off his blanket and with his knife drew bright circles before the face of Ligoun.  And the song he sang was the Song of the Knife.

“And there was no other sound, only the singing of Opitsah, and the circle of chiefs that were as dead, save that the flash of the knife seemed to draw smouldering fire from their eyes.  And Ligoun, also, was very still.  Yet did he know his death, and was unafraid.  And the knife sang closer and yet closer to his face, but his eyes were unblinking and he swayed not to right or left, or this way or that.

“And Opitsah drove in the knife, so, twice on the forehead of Ligoun, and the red blood leaped after it.  And then it was that Ligoun gave me the sign to bear up under him with my youth that he might walk.  And he laughed with a great scorn, full in the face of Opitsah, the Knife.  And he brushed Opitsah to the side, as one brushes to the side a low-hanging branch on the trail and passes on.

“And I knew and understood, for there was but shame in the killing of Opitsah before the faces of a score of greater chiefs.  I remembered the Law, and knew Ligoun had it in mind to kill by the Law.  And who, chiefest of rank but himself, was there but Niblack?  And toward Niblack, leaning on my arm, he walked.  And to his other arm, clinging and striking, was Opitsah, too small to soil with his blood the hands of so great a man.  And though the knife of Opitsah bit in again and again, Ligoun noted it not, nor winced.  And in this fashion we three went our way across the room, Niblack sitting in his blanket and fearful of our coming.

“And now old hates flamed up and forgotten grudges were remembered.  Lamuk, a Kake, had had a brother drowned in the bad water of the Stickeen, and the Stickeens had not paid in blankets for their bad water, as was the custom to pay.  So Lamuk drove straight with his long knife to the heart of Klok-Kutz the Stickeen.  And Katchahook remembered a quarrel of the Naass River people with the Tongas of north of Dixon, and the chief of the Tongas he slew with a pistol which made much noise.  And the blood-hunger gripped all the men who sat in the circle, and chief slew chief, or was slain, as chance might be.  Also did they stab and shoot at Ligoun, for whoso killed him won great honor and would be unforgotten for the deed.  And they were about him like wolves about a moose, only they were so many they were in their own way, and they slew one another to make room.  And there was great confusion.

“But Ligoun went slowly, without haste, as though many years were yet before him.  It seemed that he was certain he would make his kill, in his own way, ere they could slay him.  And as I say, he went slowly, and knives bit into him, and he was red with blood.  And though none sought after me, who was a mere stripling, yet did the knives find me, and the hot bullets burn me.  And still Ligoun leaned his weight on my youth, and Opitsah struck at him, and we three went forward.  And when we stood by Niblack, he was afraid, and covered his head with his blanket.  The Skoots were ever cowards.

“And Goolzug and Kadishan, the one a fish-eater and the other a meat-killer, closed together for the honor of their tribes.  And they raged madly about, and in their battling swung against the knees of Opitsah, who was overthrown and trampled upon.  And a knife, singing through the air, smote Skulpin, of the Sitkas, in the throat, and he flung his arms out blindly, reeling, and dragged me down in his fall.

“And from the ground I beheld Ligoun bend over Niblack, and uncover the blanket from his head, and turn up his face to the light.  And Ligoun was in no haste.  Being blinded with his own blood, he swept it out of his eyes with the back of his hand, so he might see and be sure.  And when he was sure that the upturned face was the face of Niblack, he drew the knife across his throat as one draws a knife across the throat of a trembling deer.  And then Ligoun stood erect, singing his death-song and swaying gently to and fro.  And Skulpin, who had dragged me down, shot with a pistol from where he lay, and Ligoun toppled and fell, as an old pine topples and falls in the teeth of the wind.”

Palitlum ceased.  His eyes, smouldering moodily, were bent upon the fire, and his cheek was dark with blood.

“And thou, Palitlum?” I demanded.  “And thou?”

“I?  I did remember the Law, and I slew Opitsah the Knife, which was well.  And I drew Ligoun’s own knife from the throat of Niblack, and slew Skulpin, who had dragged me down.  For I was a stripling, and I could slay any man and it were honor.  And further, Ligoun being dead, there was no need for my youth, and I laid about me with his knife, choosing the chiefest of rank that yet remained.”

Palitlum fumbled under his shirt and drew forth a beaded sheath, and from the sheath, a knife.  It was a knife home-wrought and crudely fashioned from a whip-saw file; a knife such as one may find possessed by old men in a hundred Alaskan villages.

“The knife of Ligoun?” I said, and Palitlum nodded.

“And for the knife of Ligoun,” I said, “will I give thee ten bottles of ‘Three Star.’”

But Palitlum looked at me slowly.  “Hair-Face, I am weak as water, and easy as a woman.  I have soiled my belly with quass, and hooch, and ‘Three Star.’  My eyes are blunted, my ears have lost their keenness, and my strength has gone into fat.  And I am without honor in these days, and am called Palitlum, the Drinker.  Yet honor was mine at the potlatch of Niblack, on the Skoot, and the memory of it, and the memory of Ligoun, be dear to me.  Nay, didst thou turn the sea itself into ‘Three Star’ and say that it were all mine for the knife, yet would I keep the knife.  I am Palitlum, the Drinker, but I was once Olo, the Ever-Hungry, who bore up Ligoun with his youth!”

“Thou art a great man, Palitlum,” I said, “and I honor thee.”

Palitlum reached out his hand.

“The ‘Three Star’ between thy knees be mine for the tale I have told,” he said.

And as I looked on the frown of the cliff at our backs, I saw the shadow of a man’s torso, monstrous beneath a huge inverted bottle.