an undertone in the chorus of animate life, their quick ears detected
the long-drawn, hoarse call of walrus bulls. The howls of the dogs
from the distant mountain passes came nearer. More distant receded the
stertorous nasal bellow on the sea.
The natives feverishly leaped to their tasks. There was a note of
anxiety in their voices. Onto the forepart of the kayaks they placed
their weapons, leather lines, floats and drags. More than twoscore
boats were drawn over the land-adhering ice to the edge of the sea. A
fierce chatter brought all the women to the doors of their seal-skin
tents. They looked seaward and shook their heads with dismay.
"Many walrus--far away," the men shouted.
"No, no," the timid women returned. "Walrus too far
away--_Perdlugssuaq will strike you there_!"
Against the distant horizon mighty bergs loomed. In swift eddies of
water great floes swirled. The walrus were too far away to be seen.
Yet the opportunity of securing walrus was too rare to be missed; for
unless food and fuel were soon secured, starvation during the coming
winter confronted the tribe. The previous winter had been one of
unprecedented severity and had wiped out bears, and herds of caribou
and musk oxen. The summer season, which was now drawing to a close,
had been destitute of every kind of game. Musk oxen had been seldom
found and then only in the far inland valleys. Some blight of nature
seemed to have exterminated even the animals of the sea. The natives
had lived mainly on the teeming bird life. From the scrawny bodies of
the arctic birds, however, neither food that could be preserved nor
fuel to be burned in the lamps could be secured. On musk oxen the
tribes depend chiefly for hides and meat, and on walrus for both food
and fuel. The ammunition, brought by Danish traders the summer before,
was exhausted, so in the hunt they had for many sleeps to rely solely
upon their skill with their own primitive weapons. For months the
doughty hunters had gathered but few supplies. The prospect of the
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