Ootah pointed to the women. The soft crooning of their voices reached
him as they resumed the dismal dirge of their own woes.

"They hate thee," he said. He pointed to the constellation of the
Great Bear which glittered faintly in the sky. "Yonder _qiligtussat_
(the barking dogs) would rend the gentle bear. Thou rememberest the
old men's tale. A woman ran away from her family. She was false at
heart. The good mother bear protected her and gave her food. But
yearning for her husband, she returned and to gain his favor betrayed
the hiding place of the mother-bear and her young. Then the husband
drove out with sledges. His dogs attacked the bear. But they all
became stars and went up into the sky. Even as the bear was good to
the false woman so hast thou made clothing for those yonder, and now
they would as the dogs rend thee. Thou needest a husband."

"They would be bitter to thee," she argued.

"Perchance, but I would protect thee. I love thee."

Annadoah shook her head. "The teeth of the wolves are in my heart,"
she said. "And I no longer care."

"Yonder _Nalagssartoq_ (he who waits and listens) bends to hear thy
reply." Ootah pointed to Venus, the brightest of the stars--to the
Eskimos an old man who waits by a blow-hole in the heavenly icefloes
and listens for the breathing of seals. "Thou wilt come to Ootah, who
loves thee? Answer, Annadoah! Ootah listens."

He soothed her little hands. A wondrous light burned in his eyes.