An hour later the lamps blazed in Kadlu's house; snow-water was heating; the pots were beginning to simmer, and the snow was dripping from the roof, as Amoraq made ready a meal for all the village, and the boy-baby in the hood chewed at a strip of rich nutty blubber, and the hunters slowly and methodically filled themselves to the very brim with seal-meat. Kotuko and the girl told their tale. The two dogs sat between them, and whenever their names came in, they cocked an ear apiece and looked most thoroughly ashamed of themselves. A dog who has once gone mad and recovered, the Inuit say, is safe against all further attacks. "So the _tornaq_ did not forget us," said Kotuko. "The storm blew, the ice broke, and the seal swam in behind the fish that were frightened by the storm. Now the new seal-holes are not two days' distant. Let the good hunters go to-morrow and bring back the seal I have speared--twenty-five seal buried in the ice. When we have eaten those we will all follow the seal on the floe." "What do _you_ do?" said the sorcerer in the same sort of voice as he used to Kadlu, richest of the Tununirmiut. Kotuko looked at the girl from the North, and said quietly, "_We_ build a house." He pointed to the northwest side of Kadlu's house, for that is the side on which the married son or daughter always lives. The girl turned her hands palm upward, with a little despairing shake of her head. She was a foreigner, picked up starving, and could bring nothing to the housekeeping. Amoraq jumped from the bench where she sat, and began to sweep things into the girl's lap--stone lamps, iron skin-scrapers, tin kettles, deerskins embroidered with musk-ox teeth, and real canvas-needles such as sailors use--the finest dowry that has ever been given on the far edge of the Arctic Circle, and the girl from the North bowed her head down to the very floor. "Also these!" said Kotuko, laughing and signing to the dogs, who thrust their cold muzzles into the girl's face. "Ah," said the _angekok_, with an important cough, as though he had been thinking it all over. "As soon as Kotuko left the village I went to the Singing-House and sang magic. I sang all the long nights, and called upon the Spirit of the Reindeer. _My_ singing made the gale blow that broke the ice and drew the two dogs toward Kotuko when the ice would have crushed his bones. _My_ song drew the seal in behind the broken ice. My body lay still in the _quaggi_, but my spirit ran about on the ice, and guided Kotuko and the dogs in all the things they did. I did it." Everybody was full and sleepy, so no one contradicted; and the _angekok_, by virtue of his office, helped himself to yet another lump of boiled meat, and lay down to sleep with the others in the warm, well-lighted, oil-smelling home. * * * * *