Not long after this Etu's people celebrated a festival. It was about Christmas time, but the boy had never heard of our own great holiday. Yet his own Christmas always means very much to him.

All the people of the village met together on a certain evening in Etu's home. The medicine-man was there, and made a sort of prayer. He prayed that all might go well with the people during the coming year. This medicine-man is the priest as well as the doctor among the Eskimos. After the prayer there was a feast. The hunters had done their best, and had managed to get a good supply of seal meat on hand.

The next day after the feast, men, women, and children gathered together in a circle in the open air. A vessel of water had been placed in their midst. Each one brought a piece of meat with him. No one spoke while it was being eaten, but each thought of his good spirit, and wished for good things. Then each in turn took a drink of water from the vessel. As he did so he spoke, telling when and where he was born.

When this ceremony was over, all threw presents to each other. They believed they would receive good things from the good spirits if they were generous at this time.

Soon after this festival came New Year's. This, too, was a strange celebration.

Two men, one of them dressed as a woman, went from hut to hut blowing out the flame in each lamp. It must be lighted from a fresh fire.

The people believe there is a new sun in the heavens at the beginning of each new year. They think they ought to picture this great change in their own homes.

The year was a moon old, as Etu would say, when one day he was out hunting for seal-holes with his father. They brought a pack of dogs along with them. These had just been loosened for a run when they darted off as though they had found a fresh scent. They rushed toward a great bank of snow on the side of a high rock.

Surely it was no seal-hole they had discovered. The small opening on the surface of the snow showed that it was the breathing-place of a polar bear. The mother bear eats vast quantities of food at the beginning of winter; then she seeks a sheltered spot at the foot of some rock, and begins her long rest. The snow falls in great drifts over her. This makes a warm, close house. Does it seem as though she must die for want of air? There is no danger of this, for the breath from her great body thaws enough snow around her to form a small room. It also makes a sort of chimney through the snow, to the air above.

The baby bear is born in this house of snow, and there he stays with his mother till old enough to hunt for himself.

It was the home of a mother bear, then, that the dogs had discovered. They were wildly excited, for Eskimo dogs are no cowards. They love a bear hunt hugely. They rushed upon the opening and quickly pushed away the snow. Etu and his father stood on the watch for the mother bear and her cub to appear. They were as much excited as the dogs, but stood with spears in hand, perfectly still.

Look out now! for here they come. What a tiny little thing the baby bear is! It is like a little puppy. It would be easy to end its life, but Etu knows that would not be safe. It would make the mother a hundred times more dangerous.

The great creature looks now in one direction, now in another. It would not be hard for her to escape; but she will not leave her cub. So she rushes madly toward Etu's father. The dogs jump around her, biting at her heels. She does not seem even to notice them. Look at the long sharp teeth as she opens her mouth for a spring upon the man. One blow of her paws would knock him senseless. But he does not fear. He jumps to one side and dodges the blow. At the same time, he strikes at her throat with his long spear.

The blood gushes forth and she staggers. However, she shakes herself together with a great effort and rises on her hind legs to strike again. The pack of dogs surround her and keep biting at her legs, but the man would not be able to escape if Etu did not suddenly come up behind. He plunges his own spear far into her side. She gives one fearful groan and falls to the ground. No hunter will ever be troubled by her again.

The poor little cub runs to its mother's side, giving piteous cries. But no one is left now to pity and love it, so its life is mercifully and quickly ended. The men and dogs are soon on their homeward way. They must get sledges and go back quickly for the bodies of the two bears. Suppose that while they were gone another party of Eskimos should come along, need they fear their prey would be stolen? The thought does not enter their heads, for such a thing has never been known to happen among their people. They are honest in all ways, and would not touch that which they believe to be another's.