Speechless, Ootah viewed the flameous wonder, and, although he knew no prayer, he felt in his soul an instinctive love, a profound awe . . .  In the silent sanctity of that auroral-shot and frigidly glorious region he seemed to feel the pulsing of an Unseen Presence—­a presence of which he was a part, of which, with a glow, he felt the soul of her he loved was a part, to which all nature, everything that lives and breathes, was vitally linked . . .  He felt the drawing urge, the thrilling tingling impetus, as it were, of the terrific currents of vital spirit force that sweep vastly through the universe, keeping the earth and all the planets in their orbits . . .  He felt, what possibly the primitive and pure of heart feel most keenly . . . the presence of the Great Unknown, He who is the fountain source of love, and whose hands on the sable parchment of the northern skies perchance write, in irid traceries of fire, mystic messages of hope which none, of all humanity, during all the centuries, has ever learned entirely to understand.

Not until the wonder lights were fading did the tribesmen take up the precious bear meat, and according to Ootah’s instructions divide portions among the community.  His arm full of meat, Ootah joyously entered Annadoah’s igloo.

Annadoah, sad and lonely, sat by her lamp.  Her igloo was like that of all the others.  Inside, so as to retain the heat and carry off the water which dripped from the melting dome of snow, there was an interior tent of seal skin.  In a great pan of soapstone was a line of moss, which absorbed the walrus fat, and served as a wick for the lamp.  This emitted a line of thin, reddish blue flame.  Over the light, and supported by a framework, was a large soapstone pot in which bits of walrus meat were simmering.  By the side of the pot a large piece of walrus blubber hung over a rod.  In the heat of the lamp this slowly exuded a thick oil which, falling into the pan below and saturating the moss wick, gave a constant and steady supply of fuel.

Like the other women, Annadoah sat by her lamp day after day.  When she could endure hunger no longer she would eat ravenously of the meagre food in the pot.  Regular meals are unknown in the arctic—­a native abstains from food as long as he can in days of famine, but when he eats he eats unstintedly.

As Ootah entered the low enclosure Annadoah’s eyes lighted.

Ootah told her of the bear encounter, and, with the joy of children, they placed bits of the meat in the pot and sat by, delightedly inhaling the odor as it cooked.

Several days later, while they were eating the last remainder of the meat, both heard an uproar outside.  They crept from the igloo and discovered most of the village assembled without.

“Attalaq hath carried off Ahningnetty,” one told them.

“He broke into her father’s house and seized her with violence!”

Not far away they heard Ahningnetty’s screams.