hands--strike! Descend and smite Olafaksoah! carry him to the
narwhals; let the whales feed upon his body. May the soul of his
hands, and the soul of his feet, and the soul of his heart, and the
soul of his head struggle with one another. May he never rest!
_Ioh--ioh--ioh--ioh_!"

The boom of sliding avalanches answered him. The sound was like that
of muffled thunder. Wild cries arose from the mountain birds. They
sounded demoniacal in the taut air.

Far below soared the black vultures of the arctic. In a fit of anger
Ootah shook his arms frantically at the shrieking birds. For they
seemed to mock him.

"Spirits of the clouds," he wailed, "_Ioh--ioh--ioh-h_! Ye that wander
to the south! Ye that fly to the north! Ye that struggle hither and
yon, from the east to the west. Bear my curses to Annadoah. Tell her
that the heart of Ootah is bitter. Tell her Ootah would that her voice
become as harsh as the winds of _ookiah_ (winter). Tell her Ootah
would that her face become withered as frozen lands in winter. Tell
her Ootah would that her heart rot within her, that the wild beasts
feed upon her breasts. _Ioh-h--ioh-h-h_! Sing unto her the curses of
Ootah, and may she not rest!"

Below him the clouds, burning with vivid fire, moved in the varying
strata of air currents--to Ootah they were conveying his messages. The
sun, circling low about the horizon, shifted its rays, and within the
nebulous cloud-masses in the valleys, fountains of prism light played.
In this radiant phantasmagoria messages in turn came to Ootah.