Bobby of the Labrador by Dillon Wallace

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For two weeks the _Fearless_, which was the ship upon which Mr. Winslow
and his nephew were passengers, remained near the ice, her crew of
nearly two hundred men engaged in killing seals and in loading them
aboard, and then at last, with a cargo of nearly forty thousand
carcasses, she set sail to the southward.

The days were lengthening rapidly now, and with every mile the
atmosphere grew milder. The Labrador coast was still ice-bound, and it
would be many weeks before the harbors were cleared and vessels could
enter them, but Mr. Winslow promised Bobby that as early as conditions
would permit they would sail northward to Abel's Bay, and perhaps
charter a vessel for the journey. Indeed, he and Edward were nearly if
not quite as anxious for this as Bobby.

It was during the first week in April that the _Fearless_ steamed into
St. John's harbor, and Bobby for the first time in his life saw a city,
and great buildings, and railway trains, and horses--horses were his
great mark of admiration--and very shy he was, for he had been
transported to a world that was new to him.

And then, in a swirl of ever-growing wonders, they were away on a
railway train, and for a night on a steamer, and again on a train,
moving at a gait that made Bobby's head whirl, and at last budding trees
were seen, and green fields--all the marvelous things of which Skipper
Ed had so often told him.

At last they left the train one evening at Carrington, which, as
everyone knows, is a suburb of Boston. Bobby was hurried with Mr.
Winslow and Edward Norman into an automobile, which whirled away with
them to a great old house, where they were greeted at the door by Mrs.
Winslow, whom Bobby thought nice and motherly, and whom he loved at
once; and by a white-haired old gentleman and old lady who Bobby learned
were Edward's grandparents.

Bobby was made quite dizzy by much talking and by innumerable questions
that he was called upon to answer, and when Mrs. Winslow and the
white-haired old lady cried at the story of Skipper Ed, and the old
gentleman repeated over and over again: "Is it possible! Is it possible!
My poor Edward! My long lost boy!" he almost cried himself, though he
could see nothing to cry about, really, except Jimmy's supposed death.

And then came wonderful days while Bobby watched the marvelous
blossoming of the trees in the garden, and as they were transformed into
masses of pink and white, and flower beds became spots of glowing color,
he believed a miracle had been performed before his very eyes--as,
indeed, one had. And there were times when he believed he must be
dreaming, and not living in the world at all, and then he would pinch
himself to make certain he was really alive and awake, and that he had
not perished on the ice after all and awakened in Paradise.

But in his room of nights when the lights were out and he was alone and
all was still, he had many sleepless and homesick hours. Then it was he
longed for the old times again in the cozy cabins, and for Abel
Zachariah and Mrs. Abel, and Skipper Ed and Jimmy, and felt that he
would give all the world to have them back.

And so the weeks passed until the lengthening days of June were well
advanced, and Mr. Winslow announced that he had chartered a small
auxiliary schooner and that she was ready for the northern voyage, and
then for two nights before their departure for St. John's, where the
schooner was in waiting, Bobby could scarcely sleep at all, so eager was
he to return home to Abel Zachariah and Mrs. Abel, that they might know
he still lived, for he often thought of them there in the cabin, very
lonely without him.

One day late in June Mr. and Mrs. Winslow, with Edward Norman and Bobby,
went down to Boston, where they boarded their steamer, and immediately
the lines were thrown off and the steamer had turned her prow seaward,
Bobby nearly shouted with joy, and every throb of the steamer's engine,
and every turn of the propeller, brought fresh delight to his heart,
for they were beating away the miles that separated him from home.

In Halifax there was a day's vexatious delay while they awaited the St.
John's steamer, but at last it came, and at last they were on board the
schooner _Gull_ in St. John's harbor, and at last the _Gull_ was plowing
northward past stately icebergs glimmering in the sunshine, and vagrant
pans of ice rising and falling on the swell, and home was drawing near.

CHAPTER XXX

THE MYSTERY CLEARED

How slowly those last days dragged away! Bobby could scarcely restrain
his impatience. But one day in the middle of July Itigailit Island was
sighted, and that evening the _Gull_ anchored in its lee. Abel Zachariah
had not come out to his fishing yet, and the island was bare and
deserted. Bobby's emotion nearly got the better of him when he
remembered that stormy winter's day when he had last been here, with
Skipper Ed and Jimmy.

They launched a motor boat with which they had provided themselves, and
went ashore for a half hour, while Bobby pointed out Abel's landing
place, and the place where they always pitched their tent, and where the
snow _igloo_ had stood. The seals were gone, so Bobby knew Skipper Ed
and Abel had hauled them home before the ice broke up.

And then Bobby took his friends to see the grave, and the cairn he had
built over it, and for a little they stood, in silence and in pity for
the nameless man who lay there.

Day comes early in this latitude at this season, and at two o'clock, in
the morning twilight, anchor was weighed, sails hoisted before a good
fair breeze, and the _Gull_ was plowing her way into Abel's Bay, with
Bobby as pilot, for he knew its waters as you and I know our city
streets. And what old friends the distant mountains and headlands
seemed, as he pointed them out to his companions!

It was mid-afternoon when the _Gull_ at last approached the head of
Abel's Bay, and in the distance the two cabins gradually came into view.
Skipper Ed's cabin was the nearer, and their course was laid toward it,
and presently two figures were discerned at the boat landing.

"That's the Skipper on the left!" exclaimed Bobby. "I know him because
he's so tall! The other must be Father, but he doesn't look like
Father, either!"

And then, standing intently gazing at the men, he suddenly shouted:

"It's Jimmy! Oh, it's Jimmy! He was saved! He was saved! He was saved!
Oh, thank God, he was saved!"

And in spite of himself tears of joy sprang to Bobby's eyes, and he
leaned over the rail and shouted and shouted, and waved his hat, and at
last Skipper Ed and Jimmy heard, and they knew his voice, and they too
shouted and waved their hats, in no less excitement and joy than Bobby.

Presently the _Gull's_ sails were run down, her chains rattled, and she
was at anchor. As quickly as might be the launch, which was in tow, was
drawn alongside, and Bobby, with Mr. and Mrs. Winslow and Edward Norman,
were chugging toward the landing, where the two eager men stood to greet
them.

It would be quite impossible to describe the joy of the greeting, and
the explanations and the reunion that followed. As quickly as he could
do so Bobby, with Jimmy to accompany him, ran away to make glad the
hearts of Abel Zachariah and Mrs. Abel, who greeted him as he knew they
would, and who believed they had never been so happy in their life. And
embracing Bobby, Mrs. Abel cried over him, and they both declared that
God was better to them than they deserved.

Skipper Ed was indeed the long lost Edward Norman. His brother, young
Edward's father, had confessed shortly after Edward's disappearance all
that had taken place. He was forgiven and made restitution, and had
never again gambled. Several years later he and his wife were lost at
sea, with Mr. and Mrs. Winslow's little son.

It had happened many years before. Robert Norman, Skipper Ed's brother,
was invited, with his wife and Mr. and Mrs. Winslow, to cruise in a
friend's yacht. Mrs. Winslow falling ill was unable to go, and therefore
Mr. Winslow also declined the invitation. Robert and his wife urged,
however, that the Winslows' little son, who was a namesake of Robert and
of whom they were exceedingly fond, be permitted to accompany them. The
child had been in poor health, and upon the recommendation of their
physician consent was finally given. Edward, who was attending school at
the time, was not of the party.

The yacht had voyaged northward, stopping for several days at various
ports from which letters were received. Finally a letter from Sydney,
Nova Scotia, stated that the party had decided upon a still more
northerly cruise, and for a little while might not be in touch with the
mails. That was the last that was ever heard of the yacht or any one on
board.

And so for a full three hours they talked of home, and sorrowed over
long-ago partings and the dead, and rejoiced over their reunion and the
living, until Skipper Ed suggested that they all pay their respects to
Abel Zachariah and Mrs. Abel, and complained that he had hardly seen
Bobby at all, and that they had not become properly acquainted with his
partner, who had run off to Abel's with Bobby, which was quite to be
expected under the circumstances, for the two boys were like brothers.

Because it was easier for Mrs. Winslow than the rough and wet path, they
chugged over in the motor boat, and were met at the landing by Abel and
Mrs. Abel, who saw them coming and ran down to meet them, with much
good-natured laughter, and ushered them into the cabin where, after the
hospitable fashion of the country, they were called upon to drink tea.

"Bobby," suggested Mr. Winslow, when they had risen from the table,
"I'm immensely interested in what you told me about yourself. May we not
see the package of which you spoke? It might throw some light upon your
parentage."

And when Bobby told Mrs. Abel that the visitors had requested to see the
little clothes he wore when they found him, she and Abel were greatly
pleased, for they were proud of Bobby, and without delay she opened the
chest in which she kept her treasures and brought forth a neatly wrapped
package, which she delivered to Mr. Winslow.

For many years the package had not been opened. It was covered with
cloth, and tied with a buckskin thong. Mr. Winslow placed it on the
table, and as he undid it the others grouped themselves around him.

On the top of the package lay the little dress. He lifted it and shook
it out and held it up for inspection, and then a strange thing happened.
Mrs. Winslow, mildly curious, had been standing by Skipper Ed. Her face
suddenly went white, she reached for the garment, examined it for a
moment, and then exclaimed:

"Oh, my little Bobby! Oh, my little boy! That was his dress! It was
his!"

There was excitement at once. Mrs. Winslow became so dizzy and faint
that Skipper Ed sat her in a chair. Mr. Winslow's hand trembled as he
examined the other articles of clothing. Then he opened the wallet in
which Mrs. Abel had placed Bobby's little ring, for he had long since
outgrown it.

"The ring Robert gave him on his third birthday, just before they left
us!" said Mrs. Winslow, bursting into tears. "His name is in
it--'Bobby.' Let me see it."

She was right. The identification was perfect. But none seemed yet to
remember that the tall, handsome lad standing with them was the same
Bobby. The parents were lost in the sorrowful yesterday and forgetful of
the happy today, until Skipper Ed asked:

"What was the name of the yacht in which they were lost?"

"The _Wanderer_," said Mr. Winslow.

"The boat Bobby was found in was a yacht's boat, and it bore the name
_Wanderer_. There's no doubt, I think, of the identification. Bobby,
you scamp, why aren't you kissing your mother? Quick, now. And there's
your own father, too; and don't forget I'm your old uncle."

Suddenly this brought the father and mother to a realization that this
Bobby was their Bobby--their lost child--the boy they had so long
mourned as dead--and they drew him to them and the mother wept over him,
and fondled him and caressed him, and for a time there was so much
confusion, with every one talking and nobody listening, that they quite
forgot the notebook. But at last, when some order had been restored, Mr.
Winslow opened it, and read. It contained some odds and ends of items,
with a closing entry which cleared up much of the mystery of the
_Wanderer_:

"At sea, in an open boat," it was dated.

"Two weeks ago the yacht _Wanderer_, when somewhere S.W. from the
Greenland coast, collided in a dense fog with an iceberg. Her bow was
stove in and she began to sink at once. The boats were immediately
lowered and my wife and myself with our little nephew, Robert Winslow,
and a sailor named Magee, succeeded in getting away in one of them,
while the remainder of our party and crew were divided among three other
boats. But in the dense fog we somehow became separated from them.

"Magee as he entered the boat seized my shotgun and a pouch of loaded
shells, the only things within reach, and we saved nothing else.
Fortunately the boats had been used on shore expeditions and ours was
provisioned with a bag of sea biscuits and a quantity of water, and
contained some blankets.

"On the day following the wreck my wife was taken ill, developing, I
believe, pneumonia. On the fifth day she died. I would have kept her
remains with us in the boat, but Magee insisted that she be buried at
sea, claiming that the presence of her body would have a constantly
depressing effect upon us. I offered a prayer and said an improvised
burial service over her, we wrapped her in a blanket, and weighting her
body with an anchor buried her. My heart went into the sea with her, and
but for my young son at home and my little nephew, I would have wished
to follow her.

"Yesterday Magee went mad. He began to talk wildly, and to brandish the
loaded gun. I feared he would do injury with it, and endeavored to take
it from him. In some manner it was discharged, and I was injured, I am
well aware, fatally. I lost consciousness, and when I awoke today Magee
was gone. In his frenzy he must have plunged overboard.

"My strength is nearly gone, and it is hard to hold a pencil. Should our
boat by chance be discovered, let the finder communicate with Mr. Henry
Winslow, Carrington, Massachusetts, and care for the little boy, who is
his son. I commend the child to God's care, and as I die I pray God that
my son Edward may grow to noble and Christian manhood--that he may
possess as true and noble and Christian a character as my long-lost
brother for whom he was named, the brother who sacrificed so much for me
and him, and whom I wronged so deeply. God has forgiven me and I die in
peace.

"Robert Norman."

It was difficult to read the final lines, for the pencil had wavered
sadly, and it was evident that the entry had been finished with intense
effort.

When Mr. Winslow at last laid aside the yellow old notebook there were
no dry eyes, and for a little while all were silent. Then Edward took
Skipper Ed's hand in a strong grasp.

"With God's help," said he, "I will live as my father wished, and always
endeavor to be worthy his ideal."

* * * * *

But our story must end. I might relate how Bobby and Jimmy went to
college, for Skipper Ed would not part from his partner. How the three
always spent their summers with Abel Zachariah and Mrs. Abel, and
provided for their comfort until in the fullness of years they went to
their final rest; and how Edward erected a stone on Itigailit Island to
his father's memory. But already our story has grown too long.

We may be sure in the busy years that followed, Bobby and Jimmy never
forgot the cabins at Abel's Bay, nor the cozy hours in the easy chairs
before the big box stove. Nor Skipper Ed's teaching: "Destiny is God's
will."

THE END

The Wilderness Castaways

_By_

DILLON WALLACE

ILLUSTRATED BY H.S. WATSON

One of the "meatiest" stories for boys that has seen the light for many
years. The tale of how two lads, one a self-reliant Newfoundlander, and
the other an over-pampered New Yorker, went adrift in a fog on Hudson
Bay and were forced to make their own living out of the wild in a
sub-Arctic winter. It is full of adventure from first to last.--_Boston
Globe_.

Full of hunting, of peril, and privation, and shows how a grim outdoors
can transform the life of a self-centered youth. It is the work of a man
who knows the heart of a boy, as well as the heart of the
wilderness.--_Epworth Herald._

One of the best boys' stories published is this record of a spoiled New
York lad and a sailor boy who became separated from a hunting party.
Their adventures, and the change wrought in the selfish city lad are
told with a vividness and sense of humor which will appeal at once to
the boy reader or any other.--_American Tourist_.

The story is brimful of exciting incidents, and will be numbered among
the boy readers' favorites.--_San Francisco Bulletin_.

Mr. Wallace has made a gripping story, and held up manliness and courage
in an attractive light--_Boston Journal._

In this book two boys make good, and that is a mighty good thing to
present in any book for boys.--_Baltimore Sun._

12mo. $1.25

A.C. McCLURG & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS-CHICAGO-ILLINOIS

The Fur Trail Adventurers

_By_

DILLON WALLACE

ILLUSTRATED BY E.W. DEMING

The story is told with a realism that is a result of Mr. Wallace's long
experience in the northland. It is one of the best books that could be
given to a boy of twelve or fourteen, and one of the most
acceptable.--_Chicago Daily News._

Like all his others, it is intensely interesting, the style vivid, the
ideas high and elevating, and the whole story clean and wholesome. All
boys like his books and read them with eagerness.--_Christian Observer._

There is in it much of the woodcraft and outdoor life that boys are
learning more and more to love, thanks to the scout movement. Dillon
Wallace knows by experience what his boy readers like, and this is one
of the best books he has written. It is well illustrated.--_Indianapolis
News._

The author has written a thrilling tale in which is incorporated much
real information about woodcraft and the outdoor life.--_Boston Globe._

To those who wish a library for boys, with some books of clean
adventure in the woods and waters of the far north, this volume is
indispensable.--_Sioux City Tribune._

A book of adventures written to satisfy the thirst of every young boy
for the romance of the wilds.--_Chicago Examiner._

12mo. $1.25

A.C. McCLURG & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS-CHICAGO-ILLINOIS

The Long Labrador Trail

_By_

DILLON WALLACE

ILLUSTRATED BY PHOTOGRAPHS

"It's always the way, Wallace! When a fellow starts on the long trail,
he's never willing to quit. It'll be the same with you if you go with me
to Labrador. When you come home, you'll hear the voice of the wilderness
calling you to return, and it will lure you back again."

It was Leonidas Hubbard, the heroic explorer, who spoke these words to
Dillon Wallace when they were lying by a camp fire in the snow-covered
Shawangunk mountains where they planned the trip that cost them
indescribable suffering, and Hubbard his life.

"The work must be done, Wallace, and if one of us falls before it is
completed the other must finish it."

Wallace returned to keep the compact, and "The Long Labrador Trail" is
the story of marvelous adventure, discovery, and brilliant description
of the exploration of the land that lured, the hitherto unknown country,
where the Eskimo builds his _igloo_ and hunts the walrus and the seal.

The story is one of brave and successful exploration, of interesting
anecdote, of human feeling, with scientific accuracy characterizing the
fund of information, and many photographs illuminating the text.

Crown 8vo. $1.50

A.C. McCLURG & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS-CHICAGO-ILLINOIS

Beyond the Mexican Sierras

_By_

DILLON WALLACE WITH PHOTOGRAPHS AND A MAP

With the intense interest in Mexico which now obtains everywhere, this
fascinating volume attains to new values.

"There is no area of equal extent that can approach Mexico in wealth of
natural resources, variety of climate, grandeur of scenery, prehistoric
ruins, and romantic history," writes the author in his Introduction.

"Here you witness the incomparable scenery of an old, new land with its
snow-clad peaks, its magnificent mountain heights, its awe-inspiring
canyons, its vast plains, its picturesque villages, its ancient ruins,
its historic towns, and quaint corners.

"Within the borders of our neighbor republic there is a territory
one-quarter as large as the United States, with a coast line of six
thousand miles. In Mexico practically every product of the soil of the
tropical and temperate zones can be grown to perfection. Here are vast
primordial forests, and incalculable wealth of minerals."

This story of travel and exploration, with its fine descriptions of the
life of the people, history, and resources, possesses unfailing value
and interest. A large folding map accompanies the many photographs.

Crown 8vo. $2.00

A.C. McCLURG & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS-CHICAGO-ILLINOIS

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