just like the husky dogs in winter. Mooka was trying to untangle them,
dancing about to keep her bare toes and fingers away from the nipping
claws, when she jumped up with a yell, the biggest crab hanging to the
end of her finger.

"Owee! oweeeee! Caesar bit me," she wailed. Then she stopped, with
finger in her mouth, while Caesar scrambled headlong into the tide; for
Noel was standing on the beach pointing at a brown sail far down in the
deep bay, where Southeast Brook came singing from the green wilderness.

"Ohé, Mooka! there's father and Old Tomah come back from salmon
fishing."

"Let's go meet um, little brother," said Mooka, her black eyes dancing;
and in a wink crabs and sledges were forgotten. The old punt was off in
a shake, the tattered sail up, skipper Noel lounging in the stern, like
an old salt, with the steering oar, while the crew, forgetting her
nipped finger, tugged valiantly at the main-sheet.

They were scooting away gloriously, rising and pounding the waves, when
Mooka, who did not have to steer and whose restless glance was roving
over every bay and hillside, jumped up, her eyes round as lynx's.

"Look, Noel, look! There's Megaleep again watching us." And Noel,
following her finger, saw far up on the mountain a stag caribou, small
and fine and clear as a cameo against the blue sky, where they had so
often noticed him with wonder watching them as they came shouting home
with the tide. Instantly Noel threw himself against the steering oar;
the punt came up floundering and shaking in the wind.