during the
ceremony.

[17] The mothers also preserve with greatest care the bladders of the
mice, ground squirrels, and other small animals killed by the
children. These are purified at the same time.

Meanwhile four men,[18] especially chosen for the purpose, scour the
adjoining country for parsnip stalks. They bind these into small
bundles, and place them on top of the latorak, the outer vestibule to
the entrance of the kasgi. In the evening they take these into the
kasgi, open the bundles and spread out the stalks on the floor. Then
each hunter takes a stalk, and they unite in a song to the parsnip,
the burden of which is a request that the stalks may become dry and
useful for purification. The heat of the seal oil lamps soon dries
them, and they are tied into one large bundle. The third day the sheaf
is opened, and two bundles made. The larger one is for the use of the
dancers; the smaller is placed on a spear and stuck in front of the
bladders.

The fourth day the bladders are taken down and painted. A grayish
mixture is used which is obtained by burning a few parsnip stalks and
mixing the ashes with oil. The designs are the series of bands and
dots grouped to represent the totems of the hunters. When the paint is
dry the bladders are returned to their places.

In the evening the men gather again in the kasgi, and the dancers
proceed to strip off every vestige of clothing. Snatching a handful of
stalks at the common pile they light them at the lamps, and join in a
wild dance about the room. The resinous stalks shoot into flame with a
frightful glare, lighting up the naked bodies of the dancers, and
dusky interior of the kasgi. Waving the flaming torches over their
heads, leaping, jumping, and screaming like madmen they rush around
the room, thrusting the flame among the bladders and then into the
faces of the hunters. When the mad scene is at its height, they seize
one another, and struggle toward the pugyarok (entrance hole). Here
each is thrust down in succession until all the dancers have passed
through. I am informed that this is a pantomime enactment, an
indication to the inua it is time for them to depart.

[18] The number four appears to have a sacred significance among the
Alaskan Eskimo. The Raven Father (Tulukauguk) waves his wings four
times over the objects of his creation; the heroes of ancient legends
take four steps and are transported great distances; and important
events occ