Ootah, in truth, was not entirely unafraid. Both knew that a slip of
the foot would plunge them to instant death. As they ascended the
trail, the gathering clouds surrounded them. They could no longer see
their dogs. They could not even perceive the blackness of the chasm to
their right. Above and below they were enveloped in a silver mist.
Only the reflected glitter of the moonlight on jutting icicles on the
opposite indicated the depths so perilously near. Through the mist
Koolotah saw the green and crimson eyes of baleful creatures that
might, at any moment, spring upon him.
When they reached the inland valley they were both spent in strength.
In sheer relief from the agonized suspense of the journey they sank on
their sledges and lay palpitating for an hour or more. But the cold
froze their perspiring garments and they had to rise and exercise so as
not to freeze to death. Ootah knew that no time could be lost. In the
interior mountains the breathing of the hill spirits was becoming more
uneasy. And Ootah noted with anxiety the increasing moderation of the
atmosphere. That was not well. When the cold relented the hill
spirits released the glaciers.
With frantic eagerness they explored the valley. The green grass
whereon Ootah had seen the splendid animals grazing months before was
covered with ice. There was no sign of the _ahmingmah_. Ootah's heart
sank. He felt very much like weeping.
Suddenly the dogs began to sniff the air and bark hungrily.
"_Ahmingmah_!" Koolotah cried, joyfully.
Ootah released the team--the dogs made a misty black streak in their
dash over the ice. The men followed.
In the shelter of a cave they found five musk oxen. They were huddled
together and half numb with cold. They roared dully as the howling
dogs assaulted them, and rushed lumberingly from the cave into the
moonlight. Five great black hulks, with mighty manes of coarse hair,
they ambled over the ice for a space of five hundred feet and then,
surrounded by the dogs, assembled in a circle, their backs together,
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