their heads with dismay.

"Many walrus--far away," the men shouted.

"No, no," the timid women returned. "Walrus too far
away--_Perdlugssuaq will strike you there_!"

Against the distant horizon mighty bergs loomed. In swift eddies of
water great floes swirled. The walrus were too far away to be seen.
Yet the opportunity of securing walrus was too rare to be missed; for
unless food and fuel were soon secured, starvation during the coming
winter confronted the tribe. The previous winter had been one of
unprecedented severity and had wiped out bears, and herds of caribou
and musk oxen. The summer season, which was now drawing to a close,
had been destitute of every kind of game. Musk oxen had been seldom
found and then only in the far inland valleys. Some blight of nature
seemed to have exterminated even the animals of the sea. The natives
had lived mainly on the teeming bird life. From the scrawny bodies of
the arctic birds, however, neither food that could be preserved nor
fuel to be burned in the lamps could be secured. On musk oxen the
tribes depend chiefly for hides and meat, and on walrus for both food
and fuel. The ammunition, brought by Danish traders the summer before,
was exhausted, so in the hunt they had for many sleeps to rely solely
upon their skill with their own primitive weapons. For months the
doughty hunters had gathered but few supplies. The prospect of the
coming winter was ominous indeed. Wandering up and down the coast in
their migrating excursions the tribes had scoured land and sea with but
meagre results. At the village from which they now heard the inspiring
walrus calls, a dozen visiting tribesmen--most of them in search for
wives as well as game--had gathered. Joy filled them in the prospect
of securing supplies--and possible success in love--at last.

As they launched their kayaks, in impatient haste lest the walrus drift
too far seaward, some one called:

"Ootah! Ootah!"

They gazed anxiously about. Ootah, the bravest and most distinguished
of the hunters, was missing. All the young men would gladly have
started without Ootah, but the elders, who knew his skill and the might
of his arm, were not willing.

To the younger men there was an added zest in the hunt; each felt in
the other a rival, and Ootah the one most to be feared. A feverish
anxiety, a burning desire to distinguish himself flushed the heart of
each brave hunter. For whoever brought back the most gam