scarcely pausing to rest, Ootah constructed an icy dome of more than
usual solidity. This completed, he went many miles, through the
darkness, to the south, where, in the shelter of certain rocks, he knew
there was much soft moss. Digging through the frozen blanket of ice he
secured a quantity, and returning, made with it a soft bed for Annadoah
over a tier of stones. This he covered in turn with the soft skin of
caribou. Inside the immaculate house of snow he fashioned an interior
tent of heavy skins to retain the heat of the oil lamps. Of his own
supplies of blubber and walrus meat, which he had secretly buried early
in the hunting season and which had thus escaped the rapacity of the
white men, he gave more than half to Annadoah. He fixed her lamps with
oil, and arranged them solicitously in positions where they would give
most heat. He placed supplies in the house, and buried the rest
outside so that Annadoah might readily reach them. Meanwhile Annadoah
sat alone in her tent, her sad face buried in her hands, "her shadow
yearning toward the south." Many of the tribe, emerging from their
igloos, had paused to taunt Ootah at his labors.

"A-ha--a-ha!" they laughed. "Thinkest thou that Annadoah will let thee
share her igloo when the snow closes in?" They laughed again. Ootah
seriously shook his head.

"I would that Annadoah be protected from the storm," he said simply.

"A-ha--ha! No man buildeth a house wherein he may not have shelter; no
man layeth a bed of soft moss whereon he doth not expect to lie. Idiot
Ootah, as well mayest thou expect the willows to sprout in the long
night--Annadoah thinketh naught of thee. Why seekest thou not a
sensible maiden?"