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Page 16
The white chief presently gazed hard at Ootah. Then his eyes
brightened with amused mirth. He saw the despairing, yearning gaze of
the youth toward the girl he had selected to favor.
"Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed good-naturedly. "I see. I've keel-hauled
your Romeo stunt, eh? Want the stuff?" He kicked the supplies
interrogatively.
Ootah sadly shook his head. He dully heard the vulgar gibes of the
white men and the mocking laughter of Maisanguaq.
One of the natives began beating a drum. Ootah giddily caught an
evanescent vision of women dancing with reeling traders. He heard
Olafaksoah as he entered Annadoah's tent laughing heartily.
The thought of Annadoah in the embrace of the big blond man, of her
face pressed to his in the white men's strange kiss of abomination,
aroused in Ootah a sense of violation, an instinctive repugnance akin
to the horror a native feels for the dead. All the ardent hopes of his
life for many moons had centered upon his bringing the results of a
successful hunt to Annadoah and asking her to share his igloo, to
become his wife. And now, in his hour of high victory, after everyone
had acclaimed him, he was crushed.
A fervid fever seemed to take fire in his forehead and flush his veins,
yet his heart was colder than ice, his hands and feet were cold. He
felt as though someone were strangling him; he felt giddy, suddenly
sick. At that moment he was too stunned to realize fully the blighting
tragedy which had annihilated his hopes.
Nearby in her tent he heard Annadoah's voice, sweet as the song of
buntings.
"Olafaksoah, Olafaksoah," he heard her murmur tenderly, "thou art a
great man. Thou art strong. Thy arms hurt me, thy hands make me
ache." Then Ootah heard the man's hard voice and Annadoah's repressed
murmurs of mingled pain and delight. The day became black about him.
He felt that he must get away; a wild madness to run seized him. He
felt the impetus of the winds in his feet. Turning on his heel, his
face to the northwest, he fled.
In the sky overhead the black guillemot screamed.
III
"_Her lips are red--red as a wound in the throat of a deer._"
For seven weeks Ootah lived in the mountains. The violence of his
bitterness and grief scared away the wild hawks in whose high nesting
place he found shelter. At the door of that icy cave above the clouds,
he called upon the spirits of the mountains for vengeance.
"_Ioh--ioh_!" he wailed. "Spirits of the glaciers, lift your
hands--strike! Descend and smite Olafaksoah! carry him to the
narwhals; let the whales feed upon his body. May the soul of his
hands, and the soul of his feet, and the soul of his heart, and the
soul of his head struggle with one another. May he never rest!
_Ioh--ioh--ioh--ioh_!"
The boom of sliding avalanches answered him. The sound was like that
of muffled thunder. Wild cries arose from the mountain birds. They
sounded demoniacal in the taut air.
Far below soared the black vultures of the arctic. In a fit of anger
Ootah shook his arms frantically at the shrieking birds. For they
seemed to mock him.
"Spirits of the clouds," he wailed, "_Ioh--ioh--ioh-h_! Ye that wander
to the south! Ye that fly to the north! Ye that struggle hither and
yon, from the east to the west. Bear my curses to Annadoah. Tell her
that the heart of Ootah is bitter. Tell her Ootah would that her voice
become as harsh as the winds of _ookiah_ (winter). Tell her Ootah
would that her face become withered as frozen lands in winter. Tell
her Ootah would that her heart rot within her, that the wild beasts
feed upon her breasts. _Ioh-h--ioh-h-h_! Sing unto her the curses of
Ootah, and may she not rest!"
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