No steamer had ever come into
the bay, indeed--for they were still in the bay--at least within the
memory of man, and eager to see what manner of ship it might be Skipper
Ed and Jimmy were on their feet in an instant, eagerly searching the
eastern horizon.
Abel was immediately convulsed with laughter, and Mrs. Abel laughed, and
Bobby laughed, and when Skipper Ed and Jimmy, failing to discover the
steamer, or any signs of it, turned inquiringly back toward Abel, still
standing in the bow, Abel pointed to the smoke rising from the fire, and
repeated:
"_Pujolik! Pujolik_!"
Then Skipper Ed and Jimmy understood, and they laughed too. It was a
great joke, Abel thought, and for an hour afterward he indulged at
intervals in quiet chuckles, and even after the two boats had drawn
alongside, and tea and fried bear's steaks had been passed to Skipper Ed
and Jimmy, that they too might share in the feast, Abel laughed.
It was noon the following day when the boats drew up to the old landing
place on Itigailit Island, and an hour later the two tents were pitched
on Abel Zachariah's old camping ground, and everything was as snug and
settled, and they were all as perfectly at home, as though they had been
living there for months.
Then the dogs in the skiffs were brought ashore and released from their
two days' confinement, and Abel's train and Skipper Ed's train, after
the manner of Eskimo dogs, immediately engaged in a pitched battle. They
began by snarling and snapping at one another with ugly, bared fangs,
and then followed a rush toward each other and they became a rolling,
tumbling mass of fearsome, fighting creatures, and had to be beaten
asunder with stout sticks before they could be induced to settle into
their quiet and uneventful summer existence.
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