and his seal-lance and his bird-dart. There was nothing else to do.

“We shall go to Sedna soon — very soon,” the girl whispered. “In three days we shall lie down and go. Will your tornaq do nothing? Sing her an angekok’s song to make her come here.”

He began to sing in the high-pitched howl of the magic songs, and the gale went down slowly.

In the middle of his song the girl started, laid her mittened hand and then her head to the ice floor of the hut. Kotuko followed her example, and the two kneeled, staring into each other’s eyes, and listening with every nerve. He ripped a thin sliver of whalebone from the rim of a bird-snare that lay on the sleigh, and, after straightening, set it upright in a little hole in