the yellow sunshine spread all about her, splitting his morning catch on
a rude table at the foot of the sloping rocks. Above her stood the
little tent that was their summer home, and here and there the big
sledge dogs, now idle and lazy and fat, sprawled blissfully upon the
rocks enjoying the August morning, for this was their season of rest and
plenty.

With a feeling of deep content Abel drew in his line, unhooked a
flapping cod, returned the jigger to the water, and, as he resumed the
monotonous tightening and slackening of line, turned his eyes again to
the peaceful scene ashore.

Mrs. Abel in this brief interval had left the splitting table and had
ascended the sloping rock a little way, where she now stood, shading her
eyes with her right hand and gazing intently seaward. Suddenly she began
gesticulating wildly, and shouting, and over the water to Abel came the
words:

"_Umiak! Umiak!_" (A boat! A boat!)

Abel arose deliberately in his skiff, and looking in the direction in
which Mrs. Abel pointed discovered, coming out of the horizon, a boat,
rising and falling upon the swell. It carried no sail, and after careful
scrutiny Abel's sharp eyes could discern no man at the oars. This, then,
was the cause of Mrs. Abel's excitement. The boat was unmanned--a
derelict upon the broad Atlantic.

A drifting boat is fair booty on the Labrador coast. It is the
recognized property of the man who sees it and boards it first. And
should it be a trap boat he is indeed a fortunate man, for the value of