man's length
of life can be pretty accurately gauged by the stubbiness of his nose.
The degree of radiation of the human body is such that it can prevent
freezing in this northern region only when the extremities are short;
thus a man with long feet is almost for a certainty doomed to lose his
toes, and the most fortunate is he whose feet and hands are short,
whose nose is stubby and whose ears are small. The exigencies of life
place an economic value on the structure of a hunter's body, and the
little Eskimo women--endowed with a crude social conscience which
demands that a father shall live and remain efficient so as to care for
his own children--are loath to marry one afflicted as was Papik.

"But I care for thee, Annadoah," Papik protested.

"And well do I know thou art a brave lad, but seek thou another maiden;
thou dost not touch my heart, Papik, and thy fingers are very, very
long."

With native spontaneity, Papik laughed and turned shoreward. As he
passed the assembled maidens he paused momentarily and greeted them.
He made a brief proposal of marriage to Ahningnetty, a fat maiden, and
was met with laughter.

"Go on, Long Fingers," one called. "How wilt thou strike the bear when
thy fingers are gone? How wilt thou seek the musk ox when _ookiah_
hath bitten off thy feet?"

The maiden who spoke was extremely thin.

"Ha, ha!" Papik returned. "How wilt thou warm thy husband when the
winter comes? How wilt thou warm the little baby when thou art like
the bear after a famished winter, thou maid of skin and bones!"

"Long-nose! Long-nose! may thy nose freeze!" she called.

The other maidens laughed and gibed at her. In anger she fled into her
_tupik_, or tent. Being very thin she, too, like Papik, suffered from
the bar sinister of nature. For, in selecting a wife, a native comes
down to the practical consideration of choosing a maid who will likely
grow fat, so that, during the long cold winters, her body will be a
sort of human radiator to keep the husband and children warm. So love,
you see, in this region, is largely influenced by an instinctive
knowledge of natural economies.

As he launched his kayak, Ootah turned toward Annadoah.

"Thou art the sun, Annadoah!" he called.

"And thou the moon, Ootah," she replied. "I shall await thee, Ootah!
Bring thou back fat and blubber, Ootah, to warm thy fires, Ootah." And
she laughed gaily. Then she turned her back to Ootah, bent her head
coyly and