racked and splintered under their feet.
Then the village disappeared behind them. The voices of their
tribesmen trailed shudderingly into silence.
The assembled tribe watched the teams diminishing in the distance.
Presently someone whispered a terrible thing.
"Sipsu hath cursed Ootah."
A low ominous murmur passed from lip to lip among the gathered men and
women. In the distance a black speck in the moonlight marked the
departing hunters.
"Yea, he hath called upon the spirit of the mountains to destroy Ootah."
A low groan followed this.
"Methinks he hath prophesied too many deaths," said Arnaluk.
"He hath declared that Koolotah's mother will die."
"And Koolotah--did he not say two moons ago that Koolotah would depart
on a long journey from which he should never return?"
"And the wife of Kyutah--did she not perish after his evil prophesy?
And Piuaitsoq--did not the spirit of the skin tents strike him when he
lay asleep? And did not yon evil wretch tell of it long before?"
A dozen voices angrily rose in assent.
"Verily he hath found hatred in his heart for Ootah. For Ootah hath
had no need of his powers. Did not Ootah's mother sew into his cap the
skin from the roof of a bear's mouth? And hath he not become as strong
as the bear? Did not his father place in his _ahttee_ the feet of a
hawk--and have not his own feet the swiftness of the wings of a bird?
And doth not Sipsu hate him for his strength? Yea, as he hateth all
who are young, who are brave, and who find joy in their shadow."
Their voices rose threateningly. Maisanguaq, chagrined and bitter at
the old man, leered among the crowd.
"Hath he not lived too long," he whispered softly. And the others
suddenly shouted:
"Let Sipsu die!"
In a wild rush they bore down upon the _angakoq's_ igloo. Screaming
with rage they kicked in the sides. The icy dome shattered about the
startled old man. They leaped upon him as hungry dogs upon a dying
bear. A dozen hands ferociously gripped his throat. They moved to and
fro in a mad struggle over the uneven ice. They seized hold of one
another in the blood-thirsty desire to lay their hands upon the old
man. He made no struggle. Finally all drew away. Amid the wreck of
his igloo Sipsu lay, motionless, his face sneering evilly in the
moonlight. His dead lips seemed to frame a curse.
They secured a rope of leather lashings and placed a noose about the
old man's neck. Then they dragge
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