A gentle swell was running, and with a good sailing breeze from the northwest they made excellent progress. To their astonishment, however, they discovered early in the afternoon a long coast line, just discernible, directly east of them.
“Now this must be a bay we’re runnin’ into,” suggested Dan when this new coast was discovered, “and I’m thinkin’ ’t will be best to cross un, for if we runs t’ th’ head of un we’ll be losin’ a rare lot o’ time.”
Accordingly they took an easterly course, and with sunset made a comfortable landing and cheerful camp, where driftwood in plenty was to be found for their stove. It was a cozy, snug camp, and a savory supper of hot broth and boiled birds, added to the satisfaction of having accomplished a good day’s voyage to the southward, made them very jolly and happy.
When they had eaten Dan produced his harmonica and blew a few notes. Suddenly he ceased the music and listened intently, then springing to his feet left the tent. Paul, aware that something of importance had happened, was close at his heels. Outside Dan listened again, keeping silence for several minutes. Then he asked excitedly:
“Does you hear un? Does you hear un?”
“Yes, what is it?” asked Paul, also excited. “Wolves?”
“Dogs! ’Tis husky dogs! They’s huskies clost by t’ th’ east’ard, an’ them’s their dogs howlin’! Hear un!”
They were silent again for a moment, to be certain that there was no mistake, and as the distant “How-oo, how-oo, how-oo” came up from the eastward, Paul shouted:
“Hurrah! Hurrah!” and then threw his cap in the air in an ecstasy of delight.