Kakarmick is a full blooded inland Eskimo. He is supposed to live somewhere on the shores of Enendeia Lake in the northwest territories of Canada, but every two years or so he seems to grow restless and pitches off hurriedly at a moment’s notice for new fields of action.
He has travelled as far south as Brochet on Reindeer Lake and White Partridge Lake further west. He is known in Hudson Bay at Fort Churchill—Chesterfield Inlet—Repulse Bay. He has roamed as far as Bothnia in the North, along the banks of the Copper Mine River—as far west as Fond du Lac and Great Bear Lake.
I have known him for several years. Kakarmick is the most independent native I know. Contrary to the immemorial custom of his kind, he does not follow the caribou the year round. When he feels like it, he deliberately turns his back on the immense supply of food which Providence has given him and, fearlessly risking starvation, strikes straight through the Barren Lands towards his new goal.
Now and then he outfits at one of our posts, for he is a born trader and we know that he can reach certain Eskimos which we could not get at otherwise.
However small the catch may have been in fish, fur or fresh meat, Kakarmick always seems prosperous and happy. However long may have been his absence from one station, he is certain to appear some day, a year or so later, with a complete load of fur for the patiently expectant trader.
He has a wife, Taitna, who everlastingly and cheerfully travels with her lord and master through the thousands of miles of bleak wilderness which they both seem to know like a book. She is a big woman for that part of the country; 5 foot 3, two inches taller than her husband. When one sees her stalking up to you, one knows instinctively that she is the wife of an important person.
She shakes hands with a prize fighter’s grip and her deerskin coat seems to weigh a ton. It has wonderful designs of thousands of multi-colored beads. She even wears a thick border of empty cartridge cases at the bottom, which shine when the sun is out and clink merrily at each step.
Notwithstanding her appearance, Kakarmick rules her with a rod of iron.
The last time I saw them it was on the frozen shores of Windy Lake. They were both sitting on the top of their sleigh and their five dogs were plainly tired.
The man had lost his whip but held, instead, a short thick piece of hard wood about three feet in length. Every hundred yards or so, he hurled that strange missile straight at one of the dog’s backs. I never saw him miss once. But what impressed me more was Taitna. Each time her husband threw that stick, she would jump off the sleigh, retrieve it and jump on again. Meanwhile, Kakarmick remained sitting astride his load, paying absolutely no attention to the exertions of his wife.