is coming!" the Eskimos say then. The children race up to the rock to pick up the dead birds. And soon large fires are alight, to cook the first bird-catch of the year. And of that every one must taste.
It was just such a day as I have described: there was growth in the very air, and unrest among men and women. Some of the young girls had flung off their clothes, and were playing catch on a flat open space; this roused the men to mirth too, and merrily they joined in the game.
One old Eskimo had spread out a reindeer skin on the ground, and was revelling in the sunshine without a stitch upon him. By his side sat his daughter, in the same Edenic costume, nursing her little baby. Down on the seashore, at the edge of the ice, lay the dogs with tongues hanging out of their mouths, panting with the heat. All over the country hung the heavy spring haze which the sun sometimes draws up out of the awakening earth; and everybody was happy and good, and took no thought save for the day the sun gave.
Then a shout rang through the village, and brought all to their feet. The effect of it was like that of an avalanche of stones on the birds. The shout was not repeated; it had been heard, and all hurried down towards the house where Sagdloq lived.
Sagdloq was the greatest and oldest magician of the tribe, and he had just announced to his fellow-villagers that he was about to conjure up spirits. His wife was ill, and he wished to try to cure her.
His hut was near the sea. The people, therefore, collected down at the ice's edge; the sick woman was seated on a sledge among the rest, and her son stood by her side. Up on the roof, close to the window, sat the magician Kale, who had learnt his art from old Sagdloq; he must consequently be near his master; but Sagdloq himself was alone in the house.
All work in the settlement ceased: none dared to move. When I came up, I was enjoined to stand still. Every face bore the imprint of earnest reverence.
