He had thrilled when she soothed him, and now he was half sorry that the injuries no longer needed attention.  He loved Annadoah more deeply than ever, and his greatest concern was for her.  He might win her—­yes, perhaps some day, but he could not forget that, whenever she had touched him with tenderness, she thought of Olafaksoah.

Standing before his igloo, musing upon these things, Ootah espied in the semi-light a dark speck moving on the ice.

“Nannook! (Bear)” he called, and the men rushed from their houses.  Without pausing to get his gun Ootah ran down to the ice-sheeted shore.  Nature, as if repenting of her bitterness, had sent milder weather, and the bear, emerging from its winter retreat, made its way over the ice in search of seal.  Lifting his harpoon, Ootah attacked the bear.  It rose on its haunches and parried the thrusts.  A half-dozen lean dogs came dashing from the shelters and jumped about the creature.  The bear grunted viciously—­the dogs howled.  The bear was lean and faint from hunger, and its fight was brief—­the lances of four natives pierced the gaunt body.  The bear meat was divided after the communal custom of the tribe, and the gnawing of their stomachs was again somewhat appeased.  Some days later three bears were killed near the village.  The hearts of the tribe arose, for spring was surely dawning.

Early in March Arnaluk, skirmishing along the shore, saw a bear disappearing in the distance.  The animal was making its direction seaward, and this indicated to the astute native that its quick senses had detected the presence of seal.

“Ootah!  Ootah!” he called.  “Attalaq!  Attalaq!” The two tribesmen responded.  With harpoons and lances they followed the trail of the bear.  Less than a mile from shore they found it sitting near a seal blow hole in the ice.  At the sight of the men it fled.  A close inspection resulted in the discovery of a half dozen blow holes—­or open places to which the seal rise under the ice and come to the surface to breathe.  For a long while the men waited.  Standing near the holes, their weapons ready to strike, they imitated the call of seals.  Finally there was a snorting noise beneath one of the holes.  Ootah detected a slight rise of vapor.  Attalaq’s harpoon descended.  A joyous cry arose.  Breaking open the ice about the hole a seal was drawn to the surface.  Daily visits were thereafter made to the vicinity and the hunters, patiently watching near the holes, succeeded in catching several seals.  Other blow holes were later detected along the ice, then they disappeared and for a period no seal rewarded the hunters.

The weather continued to moderate, and these excursions on the sea ice became more and more dangerous.  One day Attalaq and Ootah, while walking along the shore, heard a familiar call in the far distance, out toward the open sea.

“Walrus,” said Ootah, the zest of the hunt tingling in his veins.