interpreted.

No people are fonder of rhythmic motion and dreamy chanting than are the
natives of the far north. The keen-witted Japanese girl had learned this
by watching their native dancing. She had once visited an island in the
Pacific and had learned while there a weird song and a wild, whirling
dance.

Now, as she stood up she kicked from her feet the clumsy deer skin boots
and, from beneath her parka extracted grass slippers light as silk.
Then, standing on tip toe with arms outspread, like a bird about to fly,
she bent her supple body forward, backward and to one side. Waving her
arms up and down she chanted in a low, monotonous and dreamy tone.

All eyes were upon her. All ears were alert to every note of the chant.
Great was the Chukche who learned some new chant, introduced some
unfamiliar dance. Great would he be who remembered this song and dance
when this woman was dead.

The tones of the singer became more distinct, her voice rose and fell.
Her feet began to move, slowly at first, then rapidly and yet more
rapidly. Now she became an animated voice of stirring chant, a whirling
personification of rhythm.

And now, again, the song died away; the motion grew slower and slower,
until at last she stood before them motionless and panting.

"Ke-ke! Ke-ke!" (More! More!) they shouted, in their excitement,
forgetting that this was a dance of death.