Upon the two sledges the hunters loaded and lashed securely their
treasure of meat. In the moonlight the hot steam rose from the
tremulous masses and Ootah's nostrils dilated with eager, anticipatory
delight. The blood dripped upon the snow and Ootah's stomach ached.
He had not dared to think of eating until now. Their hands shaking
with nervous hunger, the two fell upon the remaining meat. They
feasted with that savage hungry joy known only to human creatures who
have faced starvation. When they started on the return journey there
was a new vibrant elasticity in their steps.
Ootah snapped his whip and sang.
And his heart sang, too, of Annadoah.
Looking at the clouds, as they drifted through the valley, Ootah
imagined he saw Annadoah lying upon her couch asleep, and in the faint
light of an oil lamp he saw upon her face a pleased smile.
"Of what doth Annadoah dream?" Ootah asked the winds.
"Of springtime when the flowers bloom," the winds replied.
"And Annadoah will move to a new skin tent with Ootah!" he said,
joyously, exultantly. "Ootah will bring food unto Annadoah and she
will reward him with her love."
"Foolish Ootah," moaned the wind, "love cannot be won with food,
neither with _ahmingmah_ meat nor walrus blubber." Ootah felt his
heart sink; a vague and heavy misgiving filled him. Being very simple,
he had always thought that by securing wealth, in dogs and food, in
guns and ammunition, and by achieving pre-eminence on the hunt, he
should win Annadoah's confidence and love. But now, upon the breath of
the winds, by the voices of nature, doubt came into his heart. The
mistake of many men the world over, and of many wiser than he, he could
not understand just why this was--this thing the winds said, and which
his own heart correspondingly whispered. With food he might possibly
win Annadoah's consent to be his wife, yes, he knew that; but
Annadoah's love--that was another thing. Surely, he now realized, as
he strode along, that by simply giving her food he could not expect to
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