furiously with its huge tail.
With a thunderous roar all the others leaped with one glide into the sea.
The floe rocked, the water churned like a boiling cauldron. In a few
minutes Ootah had despatched the beast. Standing erect, he gazed in
defiance at the clouds, at the distant gulls. He forgot the omens, and
laughed with joy.
Not a moment was to be lost, however. Springing into their kayaks, the
Eskimos put to sea. Now the battle began in earnest. Attacking enraged
walrus in these frail skin boats is probably the most dangerous form of
hunting in the world. At any moment an infuriated animal is liable to
rise from the sea immediately beneath a kayak and upturn it.
Forming a semi-circle on the water about the swimming herd, the
fearless hunters sat in their tossing boats, each with one arm upraised
ready to strike, and with the other manipulating the paddle. Whenever a
whiskered head rose above the water one of the hunters let a harpoon
descend. After each attack they waited breathlessly.
Tateraq suddenly let his arm descend--his harpoon point struck home.
He shouted with joy--for he, too, sought Annadoah. Roaring with rage
the lanced sea-horse dived into the deep. The foaming water became
red with blood, and a few snorting, bellowing heads appeared. All
about glared enraged, fiery eyes. The animals plunged and tossed
furiously in the water--the savor of blood maddened them. They began
a series of attacks upon the kayaks.
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. Eré 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.
He saw Ootah, with almost superhuman dexterity, striking constantly.
Repeatedly he had to renew the metal points on his weapon-handle.
One by one the animals gave up the attack and dispersed, until only an
obdurate bull remained. The battle between man and beast continued,
finally Ootah let the harpoon fly with full strength. It struck the animal
near the heart. Ootah uncoiled the free line attached to the harpoon
point quickly--and

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