"Hurrah!" yelled Kit.
"Hurrah, hurrah!"
Crack, crack, crack, went the muskets!
"Hurrah!" came faintly from out the storm, a quarter of a mile off.
We danced, we capered, at the risk of our necks, among the slippery kayaks. We fairly hooted for joy.
"Have you got the boat there?" hailed Capt. Mazard with the trumpet. "Will you come off now?"
"Boat laid up!" shouted Kit. "Wait till light!"
"All right!" was the reply.
Nothing more could be done then. We went back to our tent.
"I suppose we ought to help the Huskies get their oomiak back to the water," Kit remarked.