"He hath given Annadoah half of his meat and fuel," the women murmured
complainingly among themselves.

"He hath given her his skins; he hath thieved upon himself."

"Why hath he not taken another to wife? Verily men are few; women are
many. And all gaze favorably upon Ootah."

"Yea, his arm is strong."

"There is courage in his heart."

"He feareth not the night."

"He should press his face upon the face of one who is fair; his wife
should bear children."

When Annadoah passed from her tent into her new home the women scolded
her bitterly. The men goodnaturedly jeered Ootah. Annadoah huddled
near Ootah and gazed gratefully into his eyes. In the thought that he
was there to protect her the heart of Ootah pulsed with joy.
Annadoah's heart was cold. Annadoah sat inside the new little house of
snow, the oil lights flickering fitfully. In the dancing shadows
Annadoah saw the semblance of the form of the blond chief. Joylessly
Ootah built his own home.

And in their houses, in celebration of the fall of night, the natives
continued their grotesque dances. Beating membrane drums, and singing
jerky chants, they danced frenziedly, forcing a false hilarity. They
felt the overwhelming approach of the dread spectre of famine. In