in the signal to start. The tribe cheered.
"_Huk_! _Huk_!" he shouted, and his lean dogs followed Ootah's team.
"_Au-oo-au-oo_!" called the natives.
"_Auoo-auoo_!" the voices of Ootah and Koolotah returned.
Over the snow-covered stretch of level shoreland the moon poured a
flood of silver incandescence. In this magical light the forms of
Ootah and his companion were magnified into the likeness of those of
the giants that the old men said once lived in the highlands. Their
dogs were distended into creatures of the size of musk oxen. Their
whips exploded as they dashed past the straggling line of snow and
stone houses; the snow crisply cracked and splintered under their feet.
Then the village disappeared behind them. The voices of their
tribesmen trailed shudderingly into silence.
The assembled tribe watched the teams diminishing in the distance.
Presently someone whispered a terrible thing.
"Sipsu hath cursed Ootah."
A low ominous murmur passed from lip to lip among the gathered men and
women. In the distance a black speck in the moonlight marked the
departing hunters.
"Yea, he hath called upon the spirit of the mountains to destroy Ootah."
A low groan followed this.
"Methinks he hath prophesied too many deaths," said Arnaluk.
"He hath declared that Koolotah's mother will die."
"And Koolotah--did he not say two moons ago that Koolotah would depart
on a long journey from which he should never return?"
"And the wife of Kyutah--did she not perish after his evil prophesy?
And Piuaitsoq--did not the spirit of the skin tents strike him when he
lay asleep? And did not yon evil wretch tell of it long before?"
A dozen voices angrily rose in assent.
"Verily he hath found hatred in his heart for Ootah. For Ootah hath
had no need of his powers. Did not Ootah's mother sew into his cap the
skin from the roof of a bear's mouth? And hath he not become as strong
as the bear? Did not his father place in his _ahttee_ the feet of a
hawk--and have not his own feet the swiftness of the wings of a bird?
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