"That's a big oomiak!" exclaimed Raed, taking a long look at it. "One—two—three—five—seven kayaks."
"How many do you make out in the big boat?" Kit asked.
"Nineteen—twenty; and I don't know how many behind the sail," Raed replied.
"Those are the women and children, I suppose," Wade said.
"Wade's thinking of the Husky belles," Kit remarked with a wink to me; "of the one he gave the scarf to. Let's see: what was her name?"
"Ikewna," I suggested.
"I've noticed Wade has been a little distrait for some time," Raed observed. "Possibly he sighs for the beauteous Ikewna!"
Wade laughed.
"Somebody else was a little sweet on a certain yellow-gloved damsel: rather stout she was, if I recollect aright. Mind who that was, Raed?"
"Ah! you refer to Pussay," Raed replied. "Well, she was a trifle adipose. But that's a merit in this country, I should judge. Lean folks never could stand these winters."