Ahningnetty dubiously shook her head.

“But thou art chubby—­yea,” said Papik admiringly—­“thou art fat as the mother bears after a fat summer, and thy body is warm; it giveth heat; Papik would give thee food, and thou shalt keep him warm during the long winter.”

The maiden smiled delightedly.  For, as Papik indicated, whereas a man may admire a slimmer beauty during the summer, when the long night comes a maiden fat and chubby is a wife to be prized.

“But alas, thy nose is long, Papik,” she said, shaking her head.

And the others chorused: 

“Long nose, short life!  Long nose—­short life!  Long nose—­short life!” In anger Papik struck the offending member, and drawing his sledge after him proceeded toward his tent.

Assisted by a number of the natives, Ootah, smiling, exultant, drew five sled-loads of blubber up over the ice toward Annadoah’s tent.  With their comparatively meagre portions the others followed.  To Annadoah Ootah meant to show the spoils of his quest.  To her he desired to present the greater portion of the riches he had by his prowess secured.  Here was meat to serve them during the long winter, and in that region the catch was a priceless fortune.  Surely Annadoah could not refuse him now.  He had proved himself beyond question the chief hunter of the tribe.  His eyes filled, his temples excitedly throbbed.  He felt a greater joy than that the natives feel when the sun dawns after the long night.  In his heart pulsed the sweet song of spring’s first ineffable bird.

Not far from Annadoah’s tent he paused.  About him the natives, wondering, admiring, had gathered.  He turned to them; he felt a strength, a dignity, an assertion he had never experienced before.  His voice rose in a happy, ingenuously proud chant of exultation: 

“From the bosom of Nerrvik, queen of the sea, have I not brought food for the long winter; yea, have I not for many moons sought to win in the chase that I might claim Annadoah?  Annadoah!  Annadoah!”

“Yea, that thou mightest claim Annadoah!  Thou art the strongest hunter of the tribe,” the natives rejoicingly chorused.

“Did I not win in the muscle-tapping games?” he sang.  “Did I not speed the arrow as none other—­did I not speed the arrows as the birds fly?”

“Yea,” they replied, “thou didst speed the arrow with the skill of the happy dead playing in the aurora—­over the earth as the birds fly didst thou send the arrows.  Strong is thy arm, Ootah.”

Not far away some of the natives, joining in the chorus, began beating drums.  The white men hilariously drank from bottles and joined in the merry dances.

“Did I not call the walrus and seal from the sea—­as none other?  Have I not lured the caribou from their hidden lair?  Have I not enticed the birds, the foxes, and the bear by my calls—­as none other of the tribes?”

In succession Ootah uttered imitations of the calls of the walrus bulls, the female caribou, and cries of the various birds.