f . . . he saw Annadoah's pleading white face . . . he extended his
arms as a bird opens its wings for flight and brought the finger tips
of his hands together above his head. For a moment his body slightly
swayed, then poising to secure unerring aim, he leaped into the dashing
sea . . .

Still and statuesque as a figure of stone, but wild-eyed, Annadoah
stood alone on the extreme edge of the precipitous cliff and watched
the struggle in the dizzy depths below . . .

Awed by the splendor of a heroism so dauntless, a love so overwhelming,
unselfish and great, the natives retreated to a far distance and waited
in fearful silence.

The prolonged infinity of suspense and horror of many long arctic
nights seemed concentrated in the brief spell that Annadoah tensely,
breathlessly, watched the struggle of the man to save her child.

Annadoah saw Ootah disappear in the waters after his desperate dive
from the cliff and rise with unerring precision on the surface near the
sinking babe. The sea came thundering against the jagged rocks in
long, terrific swells, and was hurled back in a torrential tumult of
breaking foam. Ootah fought the seething waves in his effort to
grapple the living thing which was to Annadoah as the heart of her
bosom. The tiny speck had begun to sink--Ootah made a dive under the
water--and rose with the infant clasped in his left arm. With only one
hand free, he made a desperate struggle against the onslaught of the
terrible watery catapults as they hurled him, nearer and nearer, toward
the rocks beneath the cliff. Annadoah saw his white hand, glistening
with water, shine in the sunlight as he tried to climb against the
impetus of the sea. Sometimes his head sank--then only the struggling
hand was seen. She crept dangerously closer to the edge of the
cliff . . . Slowly, but steadily, Ootah and the child were being swept
backward . . . By degrees the steady strokes of Ootah's arm began to
waver. Annadoah saw him being carried further and further under the
cliff by the irresistible momentum of the waves . . . To be dashed
against the jagged rocks beneath she knew meant death. Her heart
seemed to stop . . . but presently, swirling helplessly in the foaming
cauldron of a receding breaker, she saw Ootah, still clasping the baby,
emerge from under the rocks. He still lived. He still fought.
Annadoah watched each desperate, failing stroke. She saw his strength
giving out in that unequal str