walrus had made the greatest kill, none doubted
that he should be chosen.

As the kayaks approached the village an unexpected sight greeted the
eyes of the hunters.

Along the shore, the women of the tribe and strange men were dancing.

Before the village tents they were gathered in groups. While the elder
women of the tribe beat a savage dance on membrane drums, the
chubby-bodied maidens, dressed in fur trousers, swayed in the arms of
the foreigners.

As the boats approached the shore, the natives recognized the visitors.
They were one of a half dozen parties of Danish traders who came north
yearly from Uppernavik to gather the results of the season's hunt.
Their visit meant an untold distribution of wealth among the tribe, for
they brought needles, knives, axes, guns, ammunition, and in return
secured a fortune in furs and ivory tusks. They also doled out tea,
biscuits, matches, tobacco, thread, and gaudy handkerchiefs beloved by
the women. Their coming had not been expected this season because of
the dearth of game.

The men in the boats shouted to one another joyously. Only Ootah felt
a heavy sinking at his heart. He saw the big blond-bearded men
chucking the little women under their chins. Their method of kissing
was strange and repugnant to him. Accustomed only to the chaste
touching of a maiden's face, the kiss of the white men he instinctively
regarded as unnameably unclean. He resented their freedom with the
women. But, children of the heart and brain, primitive, innocent, the
women did not understand the white men's strange behavior. And the
husbands, not comprehending, did not care. A gun, ammunition, a few
boxes of matches--these constituted wealth in value exceeding a wife.

Now and then Ootah saw some of the visitors raising flasks to their
lips. Then their hilarity rang out more boisterously.

When they saw the kayaks approaching the shore the strangers shouted.
The hunters replied. Only Ootah remained silent. Disapproving of the
spectacle, his thoughts were busier elsewhere; his heart glowed.

"Ho, ho, what there?" some called.

"_Aveq soah_," Maisanguaq replied.

"Jolly for you!" shouted a Newfoundland sailor, whom Ootah recognized
as having been in the region with some sportsmen from far away America
several years before.

As they danced the visitors broke into the fragments of a wild sailor's
chorus.

When they had finished, the Newfoundlander, a tall, tough, red-faced
w