"I would thou call them now; that they release the glaciers, that Ootah may be carried to his death. I hate Ootah, I would that he die." He shook his fist.
Sipsu's body quivered from head to foot. "Ootah hath never consulted my familiar spirits," he rejoined bitterly. "He despiseth them."
Rising from his sitting posture Sipsu seized his drum and began moving his body. He groaned with extreme pain. By degrees his dance increased. He improvised a monotonous spirit song. His face grimaced demoniacally. As his conjuration approached the climax, his voice rose to a series of shrieks. He shuddered violently; he seemed to suffer agonies in his limbs. Finally he fell to the floor in a writhing paroxysm.
"Pst!" Maisanguaq's eyes lighted.
Outside he heard the sharp barking of dogs. "Huk! Huk!" Ootah's voice called. Others joined in the clamor. The entire tribe seemed to wake as from a sleep of the dead.
"He starts for the mountains," said Maisanguaq. "Thinkest thou the spirits will strike?"
Sipsu opened his eyes—and glared wildly at Maisanguaq.
"Speak," Maisanguaq demanded. "Hast thou not the power?"
"Did I not once go to the bottom of the sea to Nerrvik, she who rules over the sea creatures? Hath she not only one hand, and is she not powerless to plait her hair? Doth she not obey me? For did I not plait her hair? Did I not carry wood for weapons to the spirits of the mountains? And have they not answered for nigh a thousand moons?"
"Yet there is doubt in thy voice, Sipsu!"