“Canst thou invoke the curse of death upon one who goes hunting upon the seas?”

Through the rheum of years Sipsu’s eyes gleamed.

The aged, gnarled thing found voice.  It was hollow and thin.

“Ha, thou art Maisanguaq,” his toothless jaws chattered.  “Thou bearest no one good will.  Seldom dost thou smile.  For this I like thee.”

He laughed harshly.  Maisanguaq impatiently repeated his question: 

“Can Sipsu invoke the great curse?  Ha, what dost thou mean?  Art thou a fool?  Have not many died upon the word of Sipsu, Sipsu whose spirits never desert him!  Harken!  Did not Sipsu go unto the mountains in his youth?  Did he not hear the hill spirits speaking?  Did he not carry food to them, and wood and arrow points for weapons?  And in ookiah (winter) did they not strike?  Did they not kill one Otaq, who hated Sipsu?  Did Sipsu not go unto the lower land of the dead—­did he not speak to those who freeze in the dark?  Yea, did Sipsu not learn how the world is kept up, and the souls of nature are bound together?  And hath he not the power to separate them, yea, as a man from his shadow?”

“Thou evil-tongued wretch, well doth Maisanguaq believe thee!  Here—­I promise thee meat.  I follow Ootah upon the chase.  There are walrus on the sea.  Invoke the curse of destruction upon Ootah—­and I will give thee meat for the long winter.”

“Ootah—­Ootah—­yah—­hah!  Ootah!” Sipsu snapped the name viciously.  “With joy shall I bring the great evil unto Ootah.  For hath he not despised my art, hath he not scoffed at my spirits!  But thou—­what reason hast thou to desire his death?”

“Ootah findeth favor with Annadoah,” said Maisanguaq briefly.  “I would she never make his kamiks (boots).”

“Yea, and she shall not.  She shall not!” the old man shrieked in a sudden access of rage.  “So saith Sipsu, whose spirits never fail.”

Lying on the floor Sipsu closed his eyes and, moving his head up and down, called repeatedly: 

“Quilaka Nauk! Quilaka Nauk!  Where are my spirits?  Where are my spirits?”

Presently he rose, and swaying his body crooned: 

“Tassa quilivagit! Tassa quilivagit!  My spirits are here—­they are here! Tassa quilivagit!”

Grasping a drum made of animal tissue strung over a rib-bone he began to dance.  He beat a slow, uneasy measure on the drum.  His face grinned hideously.  His voice at times rose to a harsh shriek, then suddenly it trailed away until it seemed like the voice of one speaking very far off.  In a curious sort of intermittent crooning and shrieking ventriloquism he called down curses upon Ootah.  His dance increased; he beat the drum frenziedly.  His legs twisted under him, he described short running circles and jumped up and down in accesses of hysteria.  His scraggy arms, with their tattered clothes, writhed in the air as he beat the drum above him.  His head began to nod from side to side; his eyes glowed like coals; his tongue hung from his mouth; foam gathered at his lips.