Bobby of the Labrador by Dillon Wallace

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Toward noon Jimmy came over, hauling behind him a sled, and upon it his
sleeping bag of caribou skin, to say that Skipper Ed had gone that
morning to his traps and would not return until the following evening,
and Jimmy was to stay at Abel's over night. This was the custom when
Skipper Ed was away, and of course Jimmy was more than welcome with both
Abel and Mrs. Abel, and Bobby was delighted.

When dinner was over Abel, with a long stick, went down to inspect the
ice. He prodded it with the stick, and finding it to his satisfaction
stepped out upon it, and still prodding ahead of him made a wide
circuit. The ice bent as he walked, but sea ice is tough, and may be
perfectly safe though it bends. And so Abel found it, for when he came
back he said "_Piovok"_ (it is good).

Bobby was wrapped well, and out he went with Jimmy for his first winter
frolic. A wonderful time they had, coasting down the steep bank and
shooting far out upon the ice, or running over the ice, with Bobby on
the sled and Jimmy hauling him, until at last, quite weary with the fun,
they returned to the cabin to play with the ivory dogs and sledge until
supper time.

After this Jimmy came often with his sled, and he and Bobby coasted the
steep bank or rolled and tumbled in the snow, or built miniature snow
_igloos_, while Bobby grew as tough and hardy as any little Eskimo boy
could have been, which was very much to the satisfaction, not only of
Mr. and Mrs. Abel, but of Skipper Ed, as well.

It was not long after the ice came that the missionary from Nain visited
them, and met Bobby for the first time. He was a tall, jolly man, and
made much of Bobby, asking many questions about the manner of Bobby's
coming.

"It is very strange," said he. "Shall I not take him, Abel, to the
Mission, and care for him there? You do not want a white child."

But there was such a protest from both Abel and his wife, who insisted
that Bobby was their own child, sent them by God, that the missionary
never again suggested taking him from them. When the mail left the
coast, however, the following summer, he wrote to England a full
description of the occurrence, and the fact of Bobby's rescue and
whereabouts was published far and wide in British papers, but no
inquiries ever came of it, and no one came to claim Bobby.

But we must not linger over this period of Bobby's life. When he was
five years of age Skipper Ed began his lessons, coming over to Abel
Zachariah's cabin as often as possible, for the purpose, and now and
again he would take Bobby to his own cabin to stop a day or two with him
and Jimmy.

He supplied Bobby with the books he needed, and Bobby studied hard and
learned quickly, and was fascinated with the work, for Skipper Ed had
the rare faculty of making study appear a pleasant game, and it was a
game which Bobby loved to play.

There was little else, indeed, to occupy his attention during long
winter evenings--no streets to play in, no parties, no theaters--and he
made more rapid progress than he probably would have made had he
attended school in civilization, for Skipper Ed was a good tutor and
Jimmy, who was already quite a scholar, was also of great help to Bobby
in preparing lessons.

And as Bobby grew and developed, Abel, on his part, taught him to be
keenly alert, patient, self-reliant and resourceful--qualities that
every successful hunter and wilderness dweller must possess.

He learned first with the miniature whip that Abel made him, and later
with Abel's own long dog whip, to wield the long lash with precision. He
and Jimmy would practice for hours at a time clipping a small bit of ice
no larger than an egg from a hummock thirty feet away.

He played with the young puppies and trained them to haul him on his
small sledge, and he would shout to them proudly, as large as life--and
just as Abel did when he drove the big team--"_Hu-it!"_ when he wanted
them to start; "_Ah!"_ when he wanted them to stop; "_Ouk! Ouk! Ouk_!"
when he wanted them to turn to the right; "_Ra! Ra! Ra!"_ for a turn to
the left; "_Ok-su-it!"_ when he wished them to hurry; and with his whip
he enforced his commands.

He learned to shoot his bow and arrow, and to wield the harpoon and
spear. Abel once fashioned for him, from a block of wood, a very good
imitation of a small seal, and Bobby and Jimmy had unending sport
casting their harpoons at it, and presently they became so expert that
seldom did they fail to make a "killing" strike.

When he was old enough Bobby learned to make his hunting implements
himself. Here, indeed, was required patience, perseverance, and
resourcefulness, for his only tools were his knife and his ax, and his
only material such as the wilderness produced; and to gain Abel's
praise, which was his high ambition, he must needs do his work with care
and niceness. And thus Bobby was learning to be a man and a hunter.

Bobby was still a very young lad when Abel began to teach him the signs
of the wilderness and the ways of the wild things that lived in the
woods. He learned to know the tracks of all the animals of the region,
and even how long it had been since the animals that made the tracks had
passed by. And he learned to make snares and traps, and how to handle
his gun--the wonderful gun which Abel told him God had sent with him
from the Far Beyond--and shoot it quickly and accurately, for the man
who exists upon the wilderness must know how to do these things, and his
sense of observation must be keenly trained; and he must train himself
to be alert.

One other accomplishment he acquired from Skipper Ed. He learned to
swim. Even in midsummer these northern waters are icy cold. From the
breaking up of the ice in summer until the sea freezes again in winter,
the natives spend their time upon the water or near it, yet it is rare,
indeed, that one of them can swim. And so it was with Abel. He had never
in his life voluntarily gone into the sea. But Skipper Ed was a mighty
swimmer, and under his instruction Jimmy had learned the art, and in the
fourth summer after Bobby's arrival nothing would do but he, too, must
learn. Much perseverance was necessary before Abel and Mrs. Abel gave
their consent, but finally it was obtained, and in a little while Bobby
was as keen for a dip and a dive and a swim as were Skipper Ed and his
partner, Jimmy.

And so the years passed in toil, in pleasure, and in attainment--active
years that were filled with glorious doing, and with never a heavy
moment or idle wasting of time or vain dawdling.

"Never waste time," said Skipper Ed, one stormy winter's day when Bobby
was over there, and he and Bobby and Jimmy were luxuriating in their big
chairs before the fire. "If you can't be busy with your hands, be busy
with your brain. You were put into the world for some purpose, and your
destiny is the will of the Almighty. But we may spoil His will by
refusing to do the very best we can. The Almighty plans some fine thing
for each of us, but He leaves it with us to decide whether we will have
the fine things or not. What we're to be or to do comes to us gradually,
just as the sun rises gradually. We never know ahead what He has planned
for us. That's His big surprise.

"He may have put us into the world to do some great thing, and to become
a great and useful man, or we may be intended just to help other people
to be noble and honest and true, by doing our duty always, and setting
an example of honesty and nobility."

"Do you think you or Jimmy or I will ever be great men?" Bobby asked in
some awe.

"Partner is a great man _now_" declared Jimmy. "He knows most
everything!"

"No, not everything," laughed Skipper Ed. "Not everything, Partner.
But," and he spoke gravely again, "I've always tried to do my duty as
God has pointed it out to me. Perhaps the Great Thing that I was
intended to do was to teach you two chaps what I could, and perhaps your
Great Thing is to teach others, and perhaps working all together in this
way we may guide someone else to a great destiny.

"We are just hunters and fishermen. Aside from our own two families, we
don't see many people, except the missionary down at Nain, and the
Eskimos at the settlement there, and now and again in summer the
fishermen on passing schooners. But that doesn't matter. Here Destiny
placed us, and here is our work, and we must do it the best we can.

"We should work hard when we have work to do; we should play hard when
we are at play; we should think hard when we are neither working nor
playing. We should not waste time idling. We should do our level best to
fit ourselves for our destiny, whatever it may be."

This was one of many conversations of the sort that Skipper Ed had with
the boys. He was their comrade, their teacher, their adviser, and their
inspiration. And, be it said, with the constant inspiration, also, of
the great wilderness and sea, with no other youthful companions or
playmates, and with little of the joy of sports with which boys in
civilization are blessed, it was but natural that they should feel more
deeply the responsibility of life, and should ponder and take to heart
more seriously Skipper Ed's philosophy, than they would had their lot
been cast in a city or a town.

It is not to be supposed, however, that they never got into mischief.
They were too full of life and energy to avoid that. But they were
seldom or never instructed _not_ to do this or that, and their mischief
was usually the result of indiscretion and error of judgment natural to
youth, rather than disobedience. Eskimos do not whip or punish their
children. They treat them rather, as comrades, and the boy's effort is
to do as nearly as he can the things his elders do and in the manner in
which they do them.

And this was the case with Abel and Mrs. Abel and Bobby. They never
punished Bobby. It was the case also with Skipper Ed and Jimmy. Skipper
Ed, from the first, called Jimmy his partner, and talked to him and
treated him very much as he would have done had Jimmy been a grown-up.

From the very beginning Bobby had his escapades, which usually included
adventures. During the first summer after his arrival he fell into the
water with due regularity, but always, fortunately, within reach of
Abel's or Mrs. Abel's strong arms. Once he climbed into the big boat,
undid the painter, and the tide had carried him well out to sea before
his plight was discovered and he was rescued by Abel in the skiff. And
once he was lost for a day in the forest, with Abel, Mrs. Abel, Skipper
Ed, and Jimmy searching frantically for him. They found him, quite tired
out with his wanderings, peacefully sleeping on the forest moss.

With these escapades and a thousand others, Bobby kept his foster
parents pretty constantly varying between a state of suspense and a
state of joy, for they were vastly delighted when he emerged from an
adventure, usually not much the worse for his experience.

Bobby's age was, of course, a matter of conjecture. Abel and Mrs. Abel
must needs have a definite date set down as his birthday, in order that
it might be duly and appropriately celebrated each year, and as a
convenient date they chose December 1 of the year in which he came to
them as his fourth birthday. This was a date when the autumn seal hunt
would be finished, and the sea ice would be formed, when Abel might go
to Nain with the dogs and bring back some sweets or other surprise.

Upon this reckoning Bobby was eight and Jimmy was twelve years of age
when the two lads had their first real adventure together. It was in the
spring. A westerly wind had cleared the bay of ice, and Abel and Skipper
Ed had gone north in the big boat two days before for the spring seal
hunt, and were not expected back for a fortnight. Jimmy, during Skipper
Ed's absence, was stopping with Bobby and Mrs. Abel as usual, and the
two boys were out bright and early to haul a trout net which was set in
the mouth of a river which flowed into the bay not far away.

It was one of those ideal days which come now and again to that northern
country in spring, as though to emphasize by contrast the fact that the
long bleak winter is over. The sun shone brilliantly and the rippling
waves of the nearly placid bay sparkled and glinted alluringly, spicy
odors of the forest perfumed the air, and birds twittered gleefully.

"Let's go egging, Bobby," Jimmy suggested, as the boys, pulling
leisurely back from the river, turned Abel's old skiff to the beach
landing place below the cabin.

"All right," agreed Bobby, "let's do, as soon as we take care of the
trout. Mother said last night she'd like some eggs. We haven't had any
yet this year." Bobby always called Abel "Father," and Mrs. Abel
"Mother."

"I'm sure there must be lots of ducks and gull and tern eggs out on the
islands, and puffin and auk eggs on the cliffs along the shore. It's
lots of fun!" said Jimmy enthusiastically.

So they hurried in with the trout, which they dressed, washed, and
finally salted down in a barrel. This required but a few minutes, and
while they worked Mrs. Abel prepared a simple luncheon of bread,
sufficient tea for a brewing, and a bottle of molasses for sweetening,
and these, with their tea pail and cups and hunting bags, they carried
down to the skiff, followed by Mrs. Abel's wishes for a pleasant day,
and her "_Oksutingae_."

And so they set off down the bay to the islands, each pulling at a pair
of oars and chatting gaily as they rowed, in fine spirits at the
prospect, and enjoying their outing as only youth with enthusiasm can
enjoy itself.

At the end of a three hours' row they turned the skiff to the sloping
rock of an island shore, and landing, tied the painter to a big bowlder.

"This is a fine egg island," said Jimmy, as they set out with their
bags. "Partner brought me out here last year."

Squawking birds rose in every direction as they approached, and clouds
of gulls circled around crying the alarm. Down in rock crevasses along
the shore they saw many sea pigeon eggs, and Bobby wanted to get them,
but they were generally well out of reach.

"They're too small to bother with anyway," said Jimmy. "Come on."

"There! There!" shouted Bobby. "There goes an eider duck! And another!
And another! _Their_ eggs are fine and big! Let's find the nests!"

Presently they discovered, under a low, scrubby bush, a down-lined nest
containing eight greenish-drab eggs.

"There's one!" shouted Jimmy. "This is an eider's nest."

And so, hunting among the bushes and rocks, they soon had their bags
filled with eider duck, tern, gull, and booby eggs, while the birds in
hundreds flew hither and thither, violently protesting, with discordant
notes, the invasion and the looting. But the eggs were good to eat, and
the boys smacked their lips over the feasts in store--and Mrs. Abel
wanted them; that was the chief consideration, after all.

"Now," said Jimmy, "let's go over to the mainland and boil the kettle.
It's away past dinner time and I'm as hungry as a bear."

"All right," agreed Bobby. "I'm so hungry I've just got to eat. Where'll
we go?"

"I know a dandy place over here, and there's a brook coming in close to
it where we can get good water. It's just a few minutes' pull--just
below the ledges."

Ten minutes' strong rowing landed them on a gravelly beach near the
mouth of a brook, which rushed down to the bay through a deep gulch. To
the eastward the gulch banks rose into high cliffs which overhung the
sea. Kittiwakes, tube-nosed swimmers, ivory gulls, cormorants, little
auks and other birds were flying up and down and along the cliff's face,
or perching upon ledges on the rock, and, like the birds on the island,
making a great deal of discordant noise.

"It seems as though there were no end of birds," said Bobby, as they
secured their boat. "I'd like to see what kind of nests those make up
there, and after we eat I'm going to look at some of them."

"You can't get up there," said Jimmy. "I've tried it lots of times. They
take good care to leave their eggs where nobody can get at them."

"Well, I'm going to try, anyhow," Bobby declared, as he turned to the
brook for a kettle of water.

"I wish we had something to boil eggs in," said he, as he set the kettle
of water down by Jimmy, who was whittling shavings for the fire.

"What's the matter with the old tin bucket we use for bailing the
skiff?" Jimmy suggested. "I don't believe it leaks enough to hurt."

"That's so!" said Bobby. "We can boil 'em in that."

With the ax--in this country men never venture from home without an ax,
for in wilderness traveling it is often a life saver--Jimmy split some
sticks, and then with his jackknife whittled shavings from the dry
heart. He stopped his knife just short of the end of the stick, until
six or eight long, thin shavings were made, then, with a twist of the
blade, he broke off the stub with the shavings attached to it. Thus the
shavings were held in a bunch.

Several of these bunches he made, working patiently, for patience and
care are as necessary in building a fire as in doing anything else, and
Skipper Ed had taught him that whatever he did should be done with all
the care possible. And so in making a fire he gave as much care to the
cutting of shavings and placing of sticks as though it had been
something of the highest importance, and doing it in this way he seldom
failed to light his fire, rain or shine, with a single match. Fire
making in the open is a fine art.

When Jimmy had collected enough shavings for his purpose, he placed two
of his split sticks upon the ground at right angles to each other, an
end of one close up to the end of the other. Then, holding a bunch of
shavings by the thick, or stub, end, he struck a match and lighted the
thin end, and when it was blazing well placed the unlighted end upon the
two sticks where they met. Other bunches of shavings he laid on this,
the thin ends in the blaze, the thick ends elevated upon the sticks.
Then came small splits, and bigger splits, and in a moment he had a
crackling fire.

He now secured a pole six or seven feet in length, and fixed one end
firmly in the ground, with the other end sloped over the fire. On this
he hung first, by its bale, the old bailing kettle, filled with water,
and then the tea pail, in such a way as to bring them directly over the
blaze, and though the fire was a small one, it was not many minutes
before the kettles boiled. Then while Bobby dropped half a dozen eggs
into the bailing kettle, Jimmy lifted the tea pail off, put some tea
into it, and set it by the fire to brew.

"Now," said Jimmy, presently, "let's go for it."

And they ate, as only hungry boys can, and with the keen relish of
youths who live in the open.

"Let's see if we can't get some of the eggs off the cliff now,"
suggested Bobby, when they were through. "I know I can climb down
there."

"I've tried it plenty of times," said Jimmy, "and I don't believe it can
be done. You can't get in from this end, and the top hangs over so you
can't get in from the top."

"Let's go up on top and try to get down, anyhow," insisted Bobby. "I
know what! There's a harpoon line in the skiff. Father always keeps it
stuffed in under the seat aft. We can tie an end of it under my arms and
you can let me down, and then pull me back."

And so without loss of time the young adventurers secured the harpoon
line, and climbing out of the gully followed the top of the cliff to a
place where birds were numerous.

Jimmy tied a bowline knot at the proper distance from one end of the
line, passed the line around Bobby's body under the arms, ran the end of
the line through the loop, and secured it. With this arrangement the
line could not tighten and pinch, and still was tight enough to hold
Bobby securely.

"Now," said Jimmy, indicating a high bowlder, "I'll bring the line
around this rock, so I'll have a purchase on it and it can't slip away
from me, and let it out as you climb down. You holler when you want to
stop and holler when you want to come up."

The plan worked admirably for a while. Very slowly Bobby descended,
calling out now and again for Jimmy to "hold" while he picked eggs from
nests on shelving rocks.

At last his bag was full, and he was ready to ascend.

"All right, Jimmy. Pull up now," he called.

Jimmy pulled, but pull as he would he could not budge Bobby one inch. He
did not dare release the line where it made its turn around the
bowlder, for without the leverage he feared the line would get away from
him, in which case Bobby would crash to the bottom of the cliff. So
Jimmy pulled desperately. But it was of no avail, and presently he took
another turn of the line around the bowlder, and secured it so that it
could not slip, and ran forward.

Bobby was shouting to be drawn up, and Jimmy, throwing himself upon his
face and peering down over the edge of the cliff, saw Bobby dangling in
mid air some forty feet below him and thirty feet above the deep black
water. He also saw that, supported only by the line, Bobby was in a
strained and perilous as well as most uncomfortable position.

His first impulse was to lower Bobby to the base of the cliff, and let
him wait there until he could get the boat, bring it around and take him
off. But he saw at a glance that at its foot the rocky cliff rose out of
the deep water in a perpendicular wall, so smooth that there was not
even a hand hold to be had, and this was its condition for a
considerable distance on either side. Neither was there hope that, in
the strong outgoing tide, and encumbered by clothing, Bobby could swim
in the icy waters to a point where a footing could be had.

"Hurry, Jimmy; I can't stand this much longer! I can't stand it much
longer!" Bobby shouted, as he caught a glimpse of Jimmy's head.

Jimmy in return shouted reassurance to Bobby, and ran back for another
effort to pull him out. But again he pulled and pulled in vain. With all
the strength he had he could not pull Bobby up a single inch. With a
sickening dread at his heart, he refastened the line.

CHAPTER V

THE RESCUE

Jimmy realized that there was no help to be had from outside. There was
no one at home but Mrs. Abel, and rowing the skiff alone against the
tide fully four hours would be consumed in reaching there and another
three hours in coming back. Then it would be well past dark. An easterly
breeze was springing up, and a chop was rising on the bay. This
easterly wind was likely to bring with it a cold storm, and Bobby,
suspended thirty feet above the water, and not warmly dressed, might
perish.

"Yes," said Jimmy, "he might perish! He might perish! And it would be my
fault!"

The thought brought a cold perspiration to Jimmy's forehead, and a cold,
unnatural feeling to his spine, and in desperation he tried the line
again. But it was useless effort. He could not pull it up. And again he
ran to the cliff, crawled out and peered over at the dangling and by no
means silent Bobby.

"Hey there, Jimmy! Pull me up! Hurry!" shouted Bobby.

"I can't! I can't budge you! Oh, Bobby, what are we going to do?"

"If you can't pull me up, let me down!" Bobby was growing impatient. "I
can't stand this much longer. The line is cutting me in two."

"Try to climb up the line," suggested Jimmy, the idea striking him as a
bright one. "Just climb up, and when you get up here where I can reach
you I'll pull you over."

Bobby tried the experiment, but the line was oily, and in spite of his
best efforts he could climb only a little way, when he would slide back
again.

"I can't do it," he shouted up to Jimmy, after several vain efforts.
"The line is too greasy. I can't get a good hold."

"I don't know what to do!" said the distressed Jimmy. "I don't know what
to do!"

"If you can't pull me up, let me down," directed Bobby.

[Illustration: "Hurry, Jimmy. I can't hang here much longer. I'm getting
all numb"]

"That won't do any good," said Jimmy. "You'll only go into the water and
drown, for there's no place for you to stand."

"Well," Bobby insisted, "let me down nearer the water. I feel all the
time as though the line was going to break, and I'm so high up from it
that it makes me dizzy swinging around this way."

"Holler when you want me to stop," shouted Jimmy, rising and running
back.

But Jimmy found that after all he could let Bobby down only a very
little way when he came to the end of the line. So he fastened it again.

"That's as far as it will go!" he called, lying down on his face again
to look over the cliff at Bobby, who was now about twenty feet above the
water.

"Then go and get the boat and fetch it down," shouted Bobby. "Hurry,
Jimmy. I can't hang here much longer. I'm getting all numb."

That was a solution of the difficulty that had not occurred to Jimmy,
and without delay he ran away along the cliff top and down to the skiff,
which was lying a half mile above, and, undoing the painter, rowed with
all his might toward Bobby, until presently he drew up directly beneath
the swinging lad.

"Can you unfasten the line and drop into the boat, Bobby?" he asked,
gazing up.

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