He saw Ootah, with almost superhuman dexterity, striking constantly.  Repeatedly he had to renew the metal points on his weapon-handle.  One by one the animals gave up the attack and dispersed, until only an obdurate bull remained.  The battle between man and beast continued, finally Ootah let the harpoon fly with full strength.  It struck the animal near the heart.  Ootah uncoiled the free line attached to the harpoon point quickly—­and the walrus, weighing probably three thousand pounds, plunged with the impetus of a bulk of iron into the sea.  Then a strange thing happened.

The pan-shaped drag, attached to the extreme end of the long line securing the harpoon which Ootah had driven into the animal, became entangled in the lashings on the forepart of Ootah’s kayak.  Leaning forward, Ootah tried to disentangle it.  He feared that the beast, in its struggle, might drag all his weapons and paraphernalia into the sea.  He felt it tugging at the line while he unknotted the tangle.  While he was doing this Maisanguaq saw the beast rise to the surface of the water not far from Ootah and describe a quick circle about his kayak.  Before he realized it, the leather line had wrapped itself about his chest and under his arms.  It took but a minute for the animal to circle the boat—­then it plunged.  Maisanguaq saw Ootah struggle to release himself; then he saw the kayak tilt as the hunter was drawn, by the mighty impetus of the plunging sea-horse, into the water.  He heard Ootah’s cry—­saw the blood red waters seethe as they closed over him.  In a brief interval the kayak righted itself—­it was empty.

A murmur of dismay rose from the others.  “The tupilak! the tupilak!” Maisanguaq exultantly murmured, his eyes alight.  “Happy angakoq!  Thou shalt have much of Ootah’s meat!”

Over the spot where Ootah sank the sun flamed.  The water seethed with the threshing of the animals beneath the sea.  Ootah’s float finally rose.  The natives watched breathlessly for the reappearance of Ootah.  The float bobbed up and down as the animal’s death struggles beneath the water subsided.

Maisanguaq, looking at the floats which marked the dead animals, called out: 

“Ootah hath won Annadoah—­hah-hah-hah!  Hah!  Ootah hath won Annadoah only to lose her!  We shall take Ootah’s catch to Annadoah, but Ootah sleeps.  Ootah hath gone to taste the water in the country of the dead!  Hah-hah!”

At that moment Maisanguaq nearly fell from his kayak.

“Methinks thou wilt perhaps join the fishes first, friend Maisanguaq,” a familiar voice laughed joyously behind him.

Maisanguaq’s face became livid with dismay.  Had the angakoq failed?  And why?

Turning, he saw Ootah, not far away, clambering from the water onto the floe.  He was unscathed by the mishap—­the water even had not penetrated his skin garments.  A joyous cry arose from the hunters as they saw him running to and fro, working his arms to get up circulation.  Noting Maisanguaq’s scowling face, Ootah twitted him: