e, so they
believed, stood the best chance of winning the hand of Annadoah. Of
all the unmarried maidens of the tribes, none cooked so well, none
could sew so well as Annadoah, none was so skilled in the art of making
_ahttees_ and _kamiks_ as Annadoah. And, moreover, Annadoah was very
fair.

"Ootah! _aveq soah_! Hasten thou! The walrus are drifting to sea."

Attalaq rushed up to the village and paused at the tent of Annadoah.

"Ootah!" he called.

A voice from within replied.

"We start--the wind drifts--the walrus are carried to sea."

"I come!" replied Ootah.

The flap of the tent opened. The sunlight poured upon the face of the
young hunter. He smiled radiantly, with the self-assertion of youth,
the joy of life.

Ootah was graced with unwonted beauty. He was slight and agile of
limb; his body was supple and lithe; his face was immobile, beardless,
and with curving lips vividly red, a nose, small, with nostrils
dilating sensitively, and eyebrows heavily lashed, it possessed
something of the softness of a woman. His glistening black hair, bound
about his forehead by a narrow fillet of skins, fell riotously over his
shoulders. His eyes were large and dark and swam with an ardent light.

He turned.

"Thou wilt not place thy face to mine, Annadoah? Yet I love thee,
Annadoah. My heart melts as streams in springtime, Annadoah. My arms
grow strong as the wind, and my hand swift as an arrow for love of
thee, Annadoah. The joy the sight of thee gives me is greater than
that of food after starving in the long winter! Yea, thou wilt be
mine? Surely for my heart bursts for love of thee, Annadoah."

He leaned back, stretching his arms, but Annadoah shyly drew further
inside her shelter.

With a sigh he flung his leather line over his shoulder, seized his
harpoons, and stepped from the tent. His step was resilient and
buoyant, his slim body moved with the grace of an arctic deer. He
looked back as he reached the icy shore. Annadoah stood at the door of
her tent. Her parting laughter rang after him with the sweetness of
buntings singing in spring.

Ootah's heart leaped within him. Annadoah possessed a beauty rare
among her people. From her father, one of the brave white men who had
died with the Greely party years before at Cape Sabine, Annadoah had
inherited a delicacy and beauty more common indeed with the unknown
peoples of the south. Her face was fresh and smooth, and of a pale
golden hue