"He sobs and weeps--he sobs and weeps," said the old woman. "He saith
the dreaded misfortune hath come, and the days of his skill on the hunt
are over!"
"Long fingers, short hunt; long nose--short life," remarked Maisanguaq,
sententiously.
Attalaq, happy in his conquest, was broad enough to be generous. He
declared that Papik should never want as long as he could shoot the
arrow. Generous-hearted, many of the others joined in and bits of
blubber were soon offered the lonely Papik, as he sat, nursing his
frozen members, in his house. The mishap was tragic, for, his hands
injured, he had lost not only his skill in the hunt but his ability to
protect himself in case of accidents. And from the experience of ages
all knew that, sooner or later, he was doomed to a comparatively early
death.
During the first period of the night, and after Ootah's first capture,
several prowling bears were shot. The howl of occasional wolves was
heard in the mountains; then all the bears disappeared, the hunger of
the wolves was stilled.
When the third moon rose not a thing stirred outside the igloos. A
glacial silence gripped the northern world. In their shelters the
natives clustered together, warming one another with their breathing
and the heat of their bodies. They lacked the courage even to speak.
Day by day their supply of food had run low. Day by day they decreased
their portions; their cheeks sunk, hunger burned in their eyes. To
save the precious fuel they burned only one lamp in their houses; they
were unable to sleep because of the intense cold. Finally their food
gave out. From his store Ootah silently doled out allotments until
starvation confronted him. One by one the dogs were eaten. And this
caused a dull ache, for the men loved their dogs only a little less
than they did their wives and children. The quaking fear of the long
hours slowly gave way to a dull lethargy. In their igloos, where
single lamps smoked, they sat, and to keep up their circulation and to
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