excelled them all. Only of late had Annadoah listened with some degree
of favor to his pleadings. In the days of want he brought blubber to
her for fuel, and provided her with meat. And she was grateful.
Perhaps her heart stirred, but she feared the quiet passion of Ootah,
and by a perverse feminine instinct she resented a tenderness so gentle
that it seemed almost womanly. With winter approaching, and food
scarce, it was inevitable that Annadoah should wed. And now that Ootah
in the quest of the walrus had made the greatest kill, none doubted
that he should be chosen.

As the kayaks approached the village an unexpected sight greeted the
eyes of the hunters.

Along the shore, the women of the tribe and strange men were dancing.

Before the village tents they were gathered in groups. While the elder
women of the tribe beat a savage dance on membrane drums, the
chubby-bodied maidens, dressed in fur trousers, swayed in the arms of
the foreigners.

As the boats approached the shore, the natives recognized the visitors.
They were one of a half dozen parties of Danish traders who came north
yearly from Uppernavik to gather the results of the season's hunt.
Their visit meant an untold distribution of wealth among the tribe, for
they brought needles, knives, axes, guns, ammunition, and in return
secured a fortune in furs and ivory tusks. They also doled out tea,
biscuits, matches, tobacco, thread, and gaudy handkerchiefs beloved by
the women. Their coming had not been expected this season because of
the dearth of game.