whom she had rejected. When Olafaksoah brought his companions to the
tent her soul rose in rebellion. In the camp there was an orgy. None
of the married men, who for a slight consideration were willing to
permit their wives to dance with the traders, objected to the drunken
carousal. Ribald songs sounded strange in this region of the world.
Yet after Olafaksoah had kicked her and left her lying in the tent,
high above the sound of the sailors' doggerel songs, Annadoah
frantically called aloud:

"Ootah! Ootah!"

For a long time she lay in a stupor. Her face was bleeding. When she
regained consciousness the white chief and his men had left. They had
taken with them all available furs, ivories and provisions in the
village.

At the door of her tent Annadoah stood, dry-eyed, her hair dishevelled.
To the south she yearningly extended her arms. Her heart still ached
toward the man who had lied to her and deserted her. She was left, a
divorced woman, alone among her people, with no one to care for her
during the long winter night.

As she stood there the light of the descending sun, which was now far
below the rim of the horizon, paled. Driven by a frigid wind, howling
raucously from the mountains, great snow clouds piled along the sky
line. Out at sea the tips of the waves became capped--leprous white
arms seemed reaching hopelessly for help from the depths of the sea.
The sky blackened. The increasing gusts tore at the frail tents. The
wolf-dogs crouched low to the ground and whined. A tremor of anxiety
filled the hearts of the tribe. Presently the clouds were torn to