Alive to their danger the men kept an alert watch.  As they saw a seething streak described on the surface of the water, as an animal raged toward them, they would skillfully shift their positions.  The animal would rush snortingly by.

With dexterous movements of the paddle, Ootah playfully moved his kayak among the herd, in one hand his harpoon ready to strike.  A feverish desire to make the greatest kill possessed him.  Each time a hunter made an attack he felt a pang of anxiety.  Tense rivalry spurred the young hunters.

In the midst of the battle Arnaluk struck a beast.  Ootah summoned all his skill, and dashed in succession after a number of appearing heads—­he forgot his danger.  Before the others realized it, he had killed two.  Maisanguaq’s harpoon went wild.  He jealously watched Ootah and struck without skill, carried away by chagrin and rage.  Ere made valiant attacks for he, too, thought of Annadoah, but the walrus invariably went skimming from under his blows.  Papik’s harpoon glanced the backs of half a dozen.  Finally it landed.  He shouted with glee.  The inflated floats attached to the harpoon lines bobbed crazily on the surface of the ensanguined waters as the animals tossed in their death struggles below.

Two white tusks appeared near Ootah’s kayak.  His arm cut the air—­his harpoon sped into the water—­an enraged bellow followed.  He withdrew the handle, free of its line and the attached metal point—­the point, with the sinew, descended into the water.  It had struck home.

Suddenly a cry went up.  One of the natives waved his arms frantically.  A great monster had risen by his kayak and fastened one of its tusks in the skin covering the boat from gunwale to gunwale.  To strike it with the harpoon meant that it would plunge and capsize the frail craft.  Crazy with excitement, the native began hissing and spitting in the beast’s face.

“Lift his head!” cried Ootah, paddling near.  “Lift—­tugaq!—­lift his tusk!”

“Lift his head!” echoed the others.

“Aureti! Aureti!  Behave!  Behave!” the panic stricken man ludicrously shrieked at the animal.

Ootah paddled his kayak to the side of his companion’s and, leaning forward, with a quick movement, threw a lasso over the animal’s nose and under one tusk.  With a terrific jerk of the body, he gave a backward pull—­the walrus rose on the water, the kayak was freed of the tusk and slipped away.  With a roar the animal sank into the sea.  A number now rose angrily about Ootah’s kayak.  They were bent upon a combined assault.

Ootah warded off the attacking bulls on all sides with his harpoon.  The air trembled with infuriated calls, the animals were insane with brute rage.  The other natives, alarmed, paddled to a safe distance and watched the unequal conflict.  While Ootah manipulated his harpoons, Maisanguaq, in the shelter of the floe, watched him with eager eyes.