the igloo. The others followed. Without, most of the tribe were
waiting. At Ootah's command the men unlashed the sledge-load of meat,
and the division began. To Annadoah Ootah gave one-eighth of the load,
enough to last by frugal use for more than two moons, or months. Among
the others, of whom there were about twenty-five, the remainder was
proportionately divided. For himself Ootah reserved only as much as he
gave the others.
Outside Annadoah's igloo all engaged in a joyous revel. Hungrily they
feasted upon the raw meat. Then they beat drums and danced. Their
voices rose in hilarious chants. Wild joy shook them. Ootah was
acclaimed hero of the tribe. Although they have no chiefs, he was
accorded the honor of being the bravest and strongest among them. And
to the strongest and most heroic the last word in all things belongs.
Of all who were able to participate in the celebration, Maisanguaq
alone retired. From the seclusion of his igloo entrance he watched the
scene with rancor in his heart.
Over the northern skies the auroral lights played, lighting the scene
of spontaneous rejoicing with magical glory. Great silver coronas--or
rings of light--constantly arose in the north, passed to the zenith and
melted as they descended to the south. Luminous curtain-like films
closed and parted alternately like the veils of a Valhalla drawn back
and forth before the warrior souls of the north. Tremendous fan-shaped
shafts of opalescent fire shot toward the zenith and like search-lights
moved to and fro across the sky. The clouds became illumined with an
interior flame and glowed like diaphanous mists of gold half concealing
the vague faces of the beauteous spirits of the dead. Their billowing
edges palpitated with a tremor as of quicksilver. Within and through
this empyreal web of light marvellous scenes were simultaneously woven.
They lasted a moment's space and vanished. The natives, dancing
unrestrainedly, saw heavenly mountain slopes covered with grass of
|