Ootah’s paddle touched the water with the softness of a feather, yet so quickly that the double blades emitted constant flashes of light intermittently on either side.  His arms moved with consummate ease.  His kayak made a dark blurred line as it sped forward over the yellow waters.  Soon he had outdistanced the party.  Then his speed slackened, he glanced behind.

The other kayaks darted after him like erratic bugs.  The land was a mere curve on the horizon; all about him the sea rose and fell, and from the shimmering mirror of every wave the sunlight shot backward in various directions.  A thousand golden searchlights seemed playing over the sea.  Now and then through the coppery mists an emerald green berg loomed titanically, and as it slowly bore down upon him, Ootah would gracefully manipulate one end of his paddle and shift his kayak about while the berg lurched toweringly onward.  As he gained distance from the land the ocean swelled with increasing volume.  His frail skin kayak was lifted high on the oily crests of waves, and as it descended with swift rushes, Ootah felt exultant thrills in his heart.  Far away he heard the resounding explosion of ice bergs colliding.  A low bellow arose from a floe immediately ahead.  Ootah’s blood leaped, the spirit of the hunter throbbed in his veins, his nostrils sensitively quivered.  With a slow silent movement of the paddle, he prevented his kayak from going too great a distance forward in order to await the others.  Judging by the sound of the muffled bellowing, he assumed that the great animals were sunning themselves on the southern ridge of the floe.  His tactics were to paddle about to the north, land on the floe, and descend upon the walrus from the protection of the ridges of crushed ice which always abound on these rafts of the arctic sea.

While he retarded the kayak and played with his paddle, Ootah became conscious of disquieting things in the world about him.

In the heavens he saw low lying clouds moving slowly southward.  Higher above, clouds moved more swiftly in another direction.

“The quilanialeqisut (air spirits) are not at rest,” murmured Ootah.  “O spirits of the air, what disturbs your ease?”

The clouds in the higher ether circled as if in an eddy of wind.  Certainly the spirits were not at peace among themselves.

“Spirits of the air,” spake Ootah, “waft your caresses to Annadoah’s cheeks.  Tell her Ootah waits to kill the walrus, that Ootah loves her and would make Annadoah his wife—­neuilacto Annadoah; tell Annadoah Ootah presses his nose to hers and calls her Mamacadosa (of all things that which tastes the most delightful).”

A gust swept the clouds from the zenith.  Still no breath of air touched the sea.

To the lee a group of small icebergs passed.  They rocked and eddied, and from their glacial sides the light poured in changing colors.