It was always cold and stormy, and sometimes they had almost nothing to eat for days at a time, because the wind blew so hard that the little boy could not stay out to catch tom-cods.
One time when it had been stormy for many days, and the old grandmother was nearly dying of hunger, the little boy said to her, “Grandma, do you know what makes storms like this?”
“No,” said she; “I only know that it is always cold and windy; only some days are worse than others. In some places they have sunshine, but never here. We will die of hunger and cold, but the wind will go on blowing just the same, and the snow will fall.”
The poor grandmother bowed her head, and the tears fell on her cheeks.
The boy said, “How is it, Grandma, that you live so long and do not know what makes storms? I shall find out myself.”
The grandmother had to laugh, weak and sad as she was. “Why, how can you find out such things? You are only a little boy.”
He stood up beside her and tried to look very big and strong.
“Grandma,” said he, “I will teach you about storms myself, even if I am only a little boy. I will find out how to stop these storms.”
Then he asked her to mend his mukluks and his mittens, and to be sure there were no holes in his parka, for he was going out.
The old woman said “No” at first, and begged him not to go, but seeing how determined he was she let him have his way, and got his things ready as he had asked her to do.
When she had finished, the little fellow put the parka over his head, and with his high fur mukluks, and good mittens, he was well protected from the wind.
Outside the igloo he stopped to watch the storm and which way the snow was drifting. After studying it for a while he said to himself, “I know now where the storm comes from,” and putting his head down he took a long breath and started to walk against the wind, which was so strong that it took him a long time to make any progress at all. The snow was thick and caused him to stop every few steps, and turn his back to the wind, to rest and get his breath.
At last, when he began to despair of getting any farther, he saw something big and dark moving through the snow. It was a man, a very big man. He had on a fine parka with a big band of wolverine fur about the hood, that stood out from his face like the rays of the sun; only the little boy had never seen the sun, so he never thought of that.