open water. The twilight still continued to thicken, the wind came in
increasingly furious blasts. Nearer and nearer came the low call of
walrus bulls.
In a lake of lapping black water, about five hundred feet from the open
sea, a small herd rose to the surface intermittently for breath. In
the deep gloom the hunters saw fountains of spray ascending as they
breathed. Hitching their dogs to harpoon stakes driven in the ice,
they separated and quietly took positions about the open water.
"Wu-r-r!" The low walrus call rose over the ice. Ootah leaned over
the edge of the ice and imitated the animal cry. "Woor-r," Maisanguaq,
near him, replied. The water seethed, and two glistening white tusks
appeared. Ootah raised his harpoon--it hissingly cut the air. A
terrific bellow followed. The little lake seethed. A dozen fiery
eyes, of a phosphorescent green, appeared above the water. Maisanguaq
struck, so did Arnaluk. They let out their harpoon lines--the savage
beasts dove downward, then rose for breath. In their frantic struggle
their heads beat against the ice about the edge of the space of open
water. The natives fled backward--the ice broke into thousands of
fragments. Each time the animals came up the hunters delivered more
harpoons so as to pinion securely and at the same time despatch the
prey. In the gathering gloom they had to aim by instinct. For an hour
the struggle between the alert men and the enraged beasts continued.
Several times Ootah and Arnaluk fired their guns as the green eyes
appeared so as to finish the task of killing.
Meanwhile the grey reflection of the descending sun entirely faded
along the horizon; a bluish gloom blotted out the landscape. The wind
swept over the ice with fiendish hisses. With a quick change the air
became colder and snow flakes fell. The natives became alarmed. As
they were drawing the first walrus to the ice a sound, like the
discharge of a gun beneath the sea, startled them. Seizing their
knives they dexterously fell upon the animal and lifted the meat and
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