pool of blood, whipping the floe furiously with its huge tail.

With a thunderous roar all the others leaped with one glide into the
sea. The floe rocked, the water churned like a boiling cauldron. In a
few minutes Ootah had despatched the beast. Standing erect, he gazed
in defiance at the clouds, at the distant gulls. He forgot the omens,
and laughed with joy.

Not a moment was to be lost, however. Springing into their kayaks, the
Eskimos put to sea. Now the battle began in earnest. Attacking
enraged walrus in these frail skin boats is probably the most dangerous
form of hunting in the world. At any moment an infuriated animal is
liable to rise from the sea immediately beneath a kayak and upturn it.

Forming a semi-circle on the water about the swimming herd, the
fearless hunters sat in their tossing boats, each with one arm upraised
ready to strike, and with the other manipulating the paddle. Whenever
a whiskered head rose above the water one of the hunters let a harpoon
descend. After each attack they waited breathlessly.

Tateraq suddenly let his arm descend--his harpoon point struck home.
He shouted with joy--for he, too, sought Annadoah. Roaring with rage
the lanced sea-horse dived into the deep. The foaming water became red
with blood, and a few snorting, bellowing heads appeared. All about
glared enraged, fiery eyes. The animals plunged and tossed furiously
in the water--the savor of blood maddened them. They began a series of
attacks upon the kayaks.

Alive to their danger the men kept an alert watch. As they saw a
seething streak described on the surface of the water, as an animal