sick. At that moment he was too stunned to realize fully the blighting
tragedy which had annihilated his hopes.

Nearby in her tent he heard Annadoah's voice, sweet as the song of
buntings.

"Olafaksoah, Olafaksoah," he heard her murmur tenderly, "thou art a
great man. Thou art strong. Thy arms hurt me, thy hands make me
ache." Then Ootah heard the man's hard voice and Annadoah's repressed
murmurs of mingled pain and delight. The day became black about him.
He felt that he must get away; a wild madness to run seized him. He
felt the impetus of the winds in his feet. Turning on his heel, his
face to the northwest, he fled.

In the sky overhead the black guillemot screamed.




III

"_Her lips are red--red as a wound in the throat of a deer._"


For seven weeks Ootah lived in the mountains. The violence of his
bitterness and grief scared away the wild hawks in whose high nesting
place he found shelter. At the door of that icy cave above the clouds,
he called upon the spirits of the mountains for vengeance.

"_Ioh--ioh_!" he wailed. "Spirits of the glaciers, lift your