their dances some sobbed, others passed into uncontrollable hysteria.

Ootah alone did not indulge in the fierce ceremonies. His own igloo
built, day after day, night after night, he sat alone. His heart ached
with the unrequited and eternal desire of all the loveless and lonely
things of the world. Outside, the moon increased in fulness and soared
in a low circle about the sky. The dogs crouched low on the ground,
howling dismally.

During the first days of the long night the natives held a series of
dog fights inside the snow and stone houses. Ordinarily Ootah would
have attended these, for a dog fight is of keenest interest to a
tribesman, and the Eskimos' most exciting form of sport.

To a hunter with healthy blood in his veins the dog encounter affords
the same thrills as other men, in more southern lands, find in bull
fights, horse racing, card playing and other games of chance. Two
lovers, both desirous of a maiden, may hold a fight between their king
dogs, each hoping that success may determine the girl's favor. Pieces
of blubber, animal skins, ivory carvings and less valuable objects are
often bet by the contestants and the onlookers.

By all logical assumptions, one might naturally suppose that the
Eskimos--whose night is many months long--through many dark and
rigorous ages, would have developed into a taciturn and moody people,
just as the denizens of sunny climes are joyful, effervescent and
pleasure loving. However, this is not so. Troublous as is their
existence, they preserve until old age that playful joy of life, that
carefree ignoring of danger, which we find in our children--which,
alas, we lose too soon. Each day brings to them its novel delights; in