V
"_What they heard was, to them all, the Voice of the Great
Unknown, . . . He who made the world, created the Eternal Maiden
Sukh-eh-nukh, and placed all the stars in the skies . . . Whose voice,
far, far away, itself comes as the faintly remembered music of long
bygone dreams preceding birth . . . And now, out of the blue-black
sky, great globes of swimming liquid fire floated constantly, and
dispersing into feathery flakes of opal light, melted softly . . ._"
Ootah began work on an igloo for Annadoah. None of the tribesmen had
offered to do this for her, and, as only the men develop the
architectural skill required to construct a snow shelter, Annadoah,
until Ootah's return, was forced to continue to live in her seal-skin
tent, where she suffered bitterly from the cold. His back aching,
scarcely pausing to rest, Ootah constructed an icy dome of more than
usual solidity. This completed, he went many miles, through the
darkness, to the south, where, in the shelter of certain rocks, he knew
there was much soft moss. Digging through the frozen blanket of ice he
secured a quantity, and returning, made with it a soft bed for Annadoah
over a tier of stones. This he covered in turn with the soft skin of
caribou. Inside the immaculate house of snow he fashioned an interior
tent of heavy skins to retain the heat of the oil lamps. Of his own
supplies of blubber and walrus meat, which he had secretly buried early
in the hunting season and which had thus escaped the rapacity of the
white men, he gave more than half to Annadoah. He fixed her lamps with
oil, and arranged them solicitously in positions where they would give
most heat. He placed supplies in the house, and buried the rest
outside so that Annadoah might readily reach them. Meanwhile Annadoah
sat alone in her tent, her sad face buried in her hands, "her shadow
yearning toward the south." Many of the tribe, emerging from their
igloos, had paused to taunt Ootah at his labors.
"A-ha--a-ha!" they laughed. "Thinkest thou that Annadoah will let thee
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