Bobby of the Labrador by Dillon Wallace

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"No," decided Bobby, glancing at the skiff, which rose and fell on the
swell, and which Jimmy was holding dangerously near the breaking waves
on the cliff base. "I might hit the boat but I'd break my neck, and
maybe tip you over. Stand her off a little, and I'll show you."

He felt in his pocket for his jackknife, drew it out and opened it. Then
with his left hand he succeeded, after several attempts, in lifting
himself sufficiently to relieve the strain of his body, and with the
jackknife in his right hand cut the line where it circled his body below
the arms.

Hanging now by his left hand he deliberately and coolly closed the knife
by pushing the back of the blade against his leg, and restored it to his
pocket. This done he grasped the line with his right hand just above the
bowline knot, where he had a firm hold, slipped his other hand down to
it, and began swinging in toward the cliff and out over the waves, and
then on an outward swing, let go. Down he went, well away from the
rocks, feet first into the deep water, and, a moment later, appearing on
the surface, swam to the skiff, grasped it astern, and climbed aboard,
shivering from his icy bath.

"Oh, Bobby, you're a wonder!" exclaimed Jimmy. "I never would have
thought of that way of your getting off that line!"

"'Twasn't anything," declared Bobby, deprecatingly, as he seated himself
and picked up his oars. "Now let's pull back where we can put on a fire.
I'm freezing cold."

"I was scared when I found I couldn't pull you up," said Jimmy, as they
rowed back to the gully. "Wasn't you?"

"No, I wasn't scared," boasted Bobby. "I was just getting cold and
numb. The worst of it is I had to drop my bag with all the eggs I
picked off the cliff. I had some dandies, too! Two of them were the
prettiest eggs I _ever_ saw--real small at one end and big at the other,
and all colored and marked and spotted up. They were different from any
eggs I ever saw, too."

"Did you find 'em together, or separate?"

"Found 'em separate, on different ledges."

"I know what _they_ were! They were murre eggs. Murre eggs are different
from any other kind. They've got more colors and marks on 'em. Partner
found some last year."

"There were some murres down on the water, but I never thought they'd go
up to lay their eggs in places like that. The eggs were right on the
bare rock, and weren't in a nest at all, and if it wasn't for their
shape they'd have rolled off."

"It's a strange place for any bird to leave eggs, but that's where the
kittiwakes, auks and swimmers and some of the gulls and lots of birds
make nests and lay eggs. I suppose it's so as to make it hard to find
them when folks go egging. Partner tells me lots, and I ask lots of
questions, because he says the more I know about the way birds and
animals live and the things they do, the better I'll be able to hunt and
take care of myself."

In spite of his exertion at the oars, Bobby's teeth were chattering when
they landed at the place where they had cooked their dinner. But it was
not long before Jimmy had a roaring fire and the kettle over for some
hot tea, and then, leaving Bobby to dry his clothes, Jimmy climbed up
again over the cliff to recover Abel's harpoon line, which was much too
valuable to be left behind.

At this season of the year the days are long in Labrador, and though it
was nearly eleven o'clock at night when the boys reached home, it was
still twilight. Mrs. Abel was on the lookout for them, and had a fine
pan of fried trout and steaming pot of tea waiting on the table, for she
knew they would be hungry, as boys who live in the open always are. And
she praised them for the fine lot of eggs they brought her, and laughed
very heartily over Bobby's adventure, for in that land adventure is a
part of life, and all in a day's work.

CHAPTER VI

WITH PASSING YEARS

Bobby's adventure on the cliff was, after all, but typical of the
adventures that he was regularly getting into, and drawing Jimmy into,
but somehow coming out of unscathed, during these years of his career.
Though he was nearly four years Jimmy's junior, he was invariably the
instigator of their escapades.

Jimmy was inclined to cautiousness, while Bobby had a reckless turn, or
rather failed to see danger. Bobby was naturally a leader, and in spite
of his youth Jimmy instinctively recognized him as such. He could always
overcome Jimmy's scruples and cautions, and with ease and celerity lead
Jimmy from one scrape into another.

But Bobby invariably kept a cool head. He had a steady brain and nerve
and the faculty of quick thought and prompt decision, with a practical
turn of mind. If he got Jimmy and himself into a scrape, he usually got
them out of it again not much the worse for their experience.

Jimmy was imaginative and emotional, and when they were in peril he
could see only the peril, and picture the possible dire results. Bobby,
on the other hand, concentrated his attention upon some practical method
by which they might extricate themselves, losing sight, seemingly, of
what the result might be should they fail to do so.

Bobby had doubtless inherited from his unknown ancestors the peculiar
mental qualities that made him a leader. From Abel he had absorbed the
Eskimo's apparent contempt of danger. Abel, like all Eskimos, was a
fatalist. If he was caught in a perilous position he believed that if
the worst came it would be because it was to be. If he escaped unharmed,
so it was to be. Therefore why be excited? Bobby had as completely
accepted this creed as though he, too, were an Eskimo, for his life and
training with Abel was the life and training of an Eskimo boy.

And so the years passed, and Bobby grew into a tall, square-shouldered,
alert, handsome, self-reliant youth. He was in nearly every respect,
save the color of his skin and the shade of his hair, an Eskimo. He
spoke the language like an Eskimo born, his tastes and his life were
Eskimo, his ambition to be a great hunter--the greatest ambition of his
life--was the ambition of an Eskimo, and he bore the hardships, which to
him were no hardships at all, like an Eskimo. He was much more an
Eskimo, indeed, than the native half-breeds of the coast farther south.

In one respect, however, Bobby was highly civilized. He was a great
reader and an exceptional student. Skipper Ed had seen to this with
singleness of purpose.

To him and Jimmy study was recreation. Mathematical problems were
interesting to them, just as the solution of puzzles interests the boy
in civilization. Just as the boy in civilization will work for hours
upon the solution of a mechanical puzzle, they worked upon problems in
arithmetic and geometry, and with the same gusto. They studied
grammatical construction much as they studied the tracks and the habits
of wild animals. They read the books in Skipper Ed's library with the
feelings and sensations of explorers. In the first reading they were
going through an unknown forest, and with each successive reading they
were retracing their steps and exploring the trail in minute detail and
becoming thoroughly acquainted with the surrounding country.

This may seem very improbable and unnatural to the boy whose studies are
enforced and, because they are compulsory, appeal to him as tedious
duties which he must perform. But nevertheless it was very natural.
Human nature is obstinate and contrary. Tom Sawyer's friends derived
much pleasure from whitewashing the fence, and even paid for the
privilege. Had their parents set them to whitewashing fences they would
have found it irksome work, and anything but play.

Bobby, indeed, had developed two distinct personalities. In his
every-day living he was decidedly an Eskimo; but of long winter
evenings, reading or studying Skipper Ed's books, at home in Abel's
cabin, or in one of the easy chairs in Skipper Ed's cabin, when Skipper
Ed explained to him and Jimmy the things they read, Bobby was as far
removed from his Eskimo personality as could be.

Abel and Mrs. Abel never wavered in their belief that God had sent Bobby
to them from the Far Beyond, through the place where mists and storms
were born. They believed he had been sent to them direct from heaven.

But Bobby was very human, indeed. No one other than Abel and Mrs. Abel
would ever have ascribed to him angelic origin, and as he developed it
must have caused a long stretch of even their imagination to continue
the fiction. There was nothing ethereal about Bobby. His big, husky
frame, his abounding and never-failing appetite, and his high spirits,
were very substantial indeed.

And as Bobby grew, and more and more took part in the bigger things of
life, his adventures grew from the smaller adventures of the boy to the
greater ones of the man.

In this wild land no one knows when he will be called upon to meet
adventure. The sea winds breathe it, it stalks boldly over the bleak
wastes of the barrens, and in the dark and mysterious fastnesses of the
forest it crouches, always ready for its chance to spring forward and
meet you unawares. Adventure, ay, and grave danger too, are wont to show
themselves unexpectedly. And so, one winter's evening, they came to
Skipper Ed and Bobby and Jimmy.

CHAPTER VII

THE WOLF PACK

In seasons when caribou were plentiful along the coast, wolves were also
plentiful, for it is the habit of wolves in this land to follow the
trail of the caribou herds and prey upon the stragglers. And so it was
that sometimes of a winter's night the silence of the hills was startled
by the distant howl of wolves. And always Skipper Ed's dogs and Abel's
dogs would answer the wild, weird cries of their untamed kin of the
hills with equally weird cries, their muzzles in the air and the
long-drawn notes rising and falling in woful and dismal cadence.

Perhaps the dogs were possessed of an uninterpreted longing to join
their brothers of the wilderness in their care-free wanderings, and be
forever free themselves from the yoke of sledge and whip and the toil
and drudgery of the trail. But so like men were the beasts that they
never had the courage to cast themselves free from the shackles of their
man-master, though it required but a resolution and a plunge into the
hills.

"So it is with many a man," said Skipper Ed one evening when Bobby was
stopping for the night with him and Jimmy, and a wolf howl was followed
by the answering howl of dogs. "Many and many a man that has the power
and strength within him, and the brains too, if he but knew it, to go
out into the broad world of endeavor and do great things, simmers his
life away in the little narrow world into which he has grown, expending
his energies as a servant when he might be a master. He keeps his eyes
to the ground and never looks out or up, and so he never knows how big
the world is or how much it holds for him.

"It takes courage sometimes to break loose from old things. But it's the
man that dares to break loose, and hit a new trail, and try his hand at
new things, that wins. The man that never takes a chance, never gets
anywhere, and then he says that luck has been against him. I speak of
luck sometimes, but I don't mean it in that way. There is no such thing
as luck. What we call luck is the Almighty's reward when we've done the
best we can."

"Did you ever try new things?" asked Bobby.

"Yes, yes, lad! Long ago," and a shadow fell upon Skipper Ed's face, to
pass in a moment, however, as he added, "I think I did what the Lord
Almighty intended me to do."

"What was it?" asked Bobby, ever curious.

"To come here, and be Jimmy's partner, and to be a friend to both of you
young scalawags, I think," and Skipper Ed smiled.

"Didn't you ever ask the Lord to let you do some big, _big_ things?"
insisted Bobby.

"Partner does big things all the time," protested Jimmy. "He's a fine
shot, and there isn't a better hunter on The Labrador."

"Yes," said Skipper Ed, "I've asked the Lord, and I think the big thing
He's given me to do is to teach you chaps the best I can, and maybe my
teaching will help one of you to do the big, _big_ thing."

And then a wolf howled again, not far away this time, and out in front
of the cabin Skipper Ed's dogs howled an answer, and down from Abel's
cabin came the long, weird cry of woe from Abel's dogs; and the three
sat silent for a little, and listened.

"The wolves are growing bold," remarked Skipper Ed presently. "That last
fellow that howled was just above here in the gulch."

"I'd like to see one running loose," said Bobby, "but they don't like to
show themselves to me, and I never saw but one in my life."

Skipper Ed arose, and donning his _adikey_ went out of doors, soon to
return followed by a breath of the keen, frosty air of the winter night.

"It's bright moonlight," said he, rubbing his hands briskly to warm
them, for he had worn no mittens. "The wind is nor' nor'west, and if you
chaps feel like an adventure we'll take a walk around and up the
s'uth'ard side of the gulch, where he won't get a smell of us, and maybe
we'll have a look at that old rounder that's howling, and who knows but
we might get a shot at him and his mates. What do you say?"

"Fine!" agreed the boys in unison, springing eagerly up from their
chairs.

"Well, hustle into your _adikeys_, then, and we'll try to get to leeward
of the old fellow," directed Skipper Ed.

"I hope there'll be a chance for a shot!" Bobby exclaimed excitedly, as
they shouldered their rifles and slung cartridge pouches over their
shoulders.

"So do I!" agreed Jimmy.

"Just a bare chance," said Skipper Ed, as they passed out into the porch
shed and took their snowshoes from the pegs. "It depends upon which way
they're traveling."

"Do you think there's more than one?" asked Bobby in an excited
undertone, as they swung away on snowshoes.

"Yes, but we'd better not talk now. They're keen, and shy old devils,
and they might hear us," warned Skipper Ed.

Cautiously but swiftly they stole out and into the moonlit forest and up
into the gulch and along the southern banks of a frozen brook. Now and
again Skipper Ed halted, stooping to peer about and along the open space
that marked the bed of the stream. Presently he held up his hand as a
sign of caution, and crouched behind a clump of brush, motioning the
boys to follow his example.

"They're just above us," he whispered. "I saw them moving among the
trees, above the bend. They're coming down this way, and they'll come
out in that open just ahead of us. Don't shoot till I tell you, but be
ready for them, lads."

"How many are there?" Bobby whispered excitedly.

"I can't tell yet. But I saw them move, and there's more than one,"
answered Skipper Ed.

A moment later the blood-curdling howl of a wolf broke the forest
stillness. It was answered by the distant howl of the dogs, and then
near at hand the night was startled by the defiant howl of many wolves,
long, loud and terrible in unexpected suddenness, and so close that the
boys involuntarily rose from their crouch.

"A pack!" whispered Skipper Ed, "and a big pack! See them coming there!
Too many for us to tackle, lads! Keep quiet, now, lads, and don't lose
your heads and don't shoot! We must keep to leeward of them so they
won't get our scent, and we must get back to the cabin. They're too many
for us to tackle."

As he spoke the leaders of the pack--great, fearsome creatures looming
big on the glistening white of the moonlit snow--straggled leisurely
around the bend of the frozen stream--one--two--three--Skipper Ed
counted until more than twenty had appeared, and still others were
coming. It was a pack large enough to be fearless of any enemy and to
attack boldly any prey that crossed its path.

Leading the way, and keeping under cover of trees, with Bobby and Jimmy
close at his heels, Skipper Ed turned and ran down the gulch toward the
cabin, which was not above a mile distant. The gulch ended in an open
space, which was a marsh in summer but was now a white expanse of
hard-beaten snow. Between this open space and the bay shore a hedge of
thick brush grew. On its northern and southern sides the open was
flanked by the forest, extending from the gulch mouth to the shore of
the bay, and on the northern side it continued to Skipper Ed's cabin and
beyond.

Skipper Ed led the way into the forest to the southward of the open,
that they might keep well to leeward of the pack, and thus avoid so far
as possible danger of the wolves getting their scent. He hoped that this
maneuver might permit them to circuit back to the cabin under the
protecting cover of the brush fringe along the shore and the forest to
the northward. To have crossed the open would have been to invite
discovery, for it was evident the wolves would follow the bed of the
stream through the gulch and into the open.

Whether they would answer the call of the dogs and turn northward, or
whether they would range southward in quest of prey, was uncertain. If
to the southward they would be very sure to catch the wind of Skipper Ed
and the boys almost immediately, and be upon them before they could
reach safety. If they answered the dogs, there would still be danger,
but the three in that case would be enabled to keep on the lee side of
the pack with the probability of detection considerably lessened.
Therefore Skipper Ed hoped and trusted that the wolves would answer the
challenge of the dogs.

Even then there was still the danger that the trail made by them on
their way up the gulch would be discovered, and unless the dogs proved a
greater attraction Skipper Ed knew that the moment the wolves came upon
the trail they would take up the fresh scent, and might overtake them
before they could gain the shelter of the cabin.

As it came about, they were behind the brush hedge, running up the
shore, when the wolves wound out of the gulch and into the open. Through
a break in the brush Skipper Ed saw them dimly, in the distance. The
leaders stopped and sniffed. Suddenly came the howl of pursuit--the
awful, terrifying cry of the wolf pack fresh upon the heels of quarry.
The wolves had turned on the trail and were off up the gulch.

"Run!" commanded Skipper Ed, half under his breath, but still in a tone
so loud and tense that the boys heard. "Run! We must run now for our
lives!"

And they did run, but had scarcely gained the cover of the woods on the
northern side of the open when wolf cries left no doubt that the animals
had discovered the return trail and were hot upon it. It seemed now that
nothing but an intercession of Providence could save them. The wolf pack
would surely overtake them before they could attain the protection of
the cabin.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BATTLE

Now they could hear the pack yelping down through the forest! Already
it had reached the brush hedge by the shore! It had made its turn
northward, the yelps increasing in volume as it approached! Now the
leaders were in sight!

"Go on! Go on!" yelled Skipper Ed, himself lagging in order that he
might fall in the rear of the boys and take a position between them and
the wolves, and as he did so he turned quickly and fired a random shot
at the leader of the pack.

The cabin had just loomed into view dimly through the trees, and the
wolves, almost upon their expected prey, were sounding the wild, fierce
cry of triumph, when another pack, like phantoms in the forest shadows,
coming from the direction of the cabin, swept down past Skipper Ed and
the boys, suddenly breaking forth as they ran into a fierce howl of
defiance.[B]

[Footnote B: A few years ago Job Edmunds, a native acquaintance of the
author, was saved from a pack of wolves in just this manner by his
dogs.]

"Thank God!" exclaimed Skipper Ed. "The dogs! The dogs will help us!
Run, lads, and get to the door! I'll stop and help hold them with my
rifle till you get in!"

But Bobby and Jimmy would not have it so. They, too, turned, and in the
dim light of the shadowed forest the three fired into the face of the
pack until their rifles were empty. Whether or not any of the animals
fell they could not see, but the pack paused for a moment in surprise.
Then the dogs charged them, and as the three reached the cabin door
yelps and snarls told of the clash as the dogs met their wild kin of the
hills in battle.

"Thank God!" again breathed Skipper Ed when the three, panting for
breath, were safe in the cabin, a moment later, with the good stout door
between them and the ravenous pack, which presently came snapping and
snarling around the cabin. "I never saw such a pack of wolves before. I
never knew that they gathered in such numbers in these days. There must
be at least thirty of them."[C]

[Footnote C: Not many years ago a pack of upwards of thirty of these great
northern wolves appeared a few miles to the southward of this point. One
of my friends was driven to the shelter of his cabin to escape
them.--Author.]

"The dogs! Partner, what will become of our dogs?" exclaimed Jimmy.
"They'll kill our fine dogs!"

"I'm afraid they will," agreed Skipper Ed, who had lighted a lamp and
was loading the magazine of his rifle. "Load up, partner. Load up,
Bobby. We'll see what we can do from cover."

"We must have killed some of them!" Bobby exclaimed excitedly. "I know I
did! I saw three fall when we shot!"

"Yes, of course we did," agreed Skipper Ed, "but there are enough of
them we didn't kill. Here, you chaps," he added, raising a window three
or four inches. "You should get some good shots from here. I'll try my
luck from the shed door."

They had turned the lamp low, that they might see the better what was
going on out of doors. The wolves, baffled by the sudden disappearance
of their quarry, were ranged a little distance from the porch door, save
two or three of the bolder ones, which were sniffing at the door itself.
The dogs were nowhere to be seen.

"Look out!" called Bobby to Skipper Ed, who was about to open the porch
door. "Some of them are right at the door!"

Then he and Jimmy began shooting. The wolves at the door fell, and
Skipper Ed, opening the door a little way, joined in a fusillade at the
main pack. The rapid reports of the rifles at close range, together with
the flashes of fire from an unseen source, struck panic to the heart of
the pack. A slightly wounded one turned and ran. That was a signal for
panic, as is the way of men and beasts, and the whole pack followed in
a mad, wild rush to the cover of the woods.

An instant and the last of the pack had faded into the shadows among the
trees--all save those left sprawling and limp upon the snow, which would
never roam the hills again, and one or two of the wounded, which were
whining, like whipped dogs, and the clearing about the cabin was as
deserted as ever it was.

"I'll go out," said Skipper Ed, "and end the suffering of those wounded
brutes. Build up the fire, partner, and put the kettle on, and we'll
have some tea. Then if there's no sign of what's left of the pack
returning, we'll haul the carcasses into the shed, where we can skin
them tomorrow."

There was a roaring, cheerful fire in the stove when Skipper Ed returned
a few minutes later to report that twelve wolves lay dead outside.

"There must be some more down where we shot them at first," said he, as
he drew off his _adikey_, "and some of those that got away were wounded,
no doubt. At any rate we've cut the pack down so far in numbers that it
won't be a menace any longer."

"What'll they do now?" asked Bobby, as the three settled into their easy
chairs to wait for the kettle to boil.

"Go and look for caribou, and attend to their business, I suppose, and
leave us quiet, peaceable folk alone," he laughed, adding: "I never saw
such a pack before, though I've heard some of the old Eskimos say that
years ago it used to happen now and again that packs like this appeared.
Wolves are cowardly beasts, but numbers give them courage. When six or
eight get together, you have to look out for them, and when the pack
grows to a dozen they'll attack openly, and aren't afraid of
anything--not even man."

"Well, anyway we had the adventure we started out to get," laughed
Bobby, "and a little more of it than we expected."

"Yes, and a nice haul of wolf pelts to boot," added Skipper Ed.

"We were lucky they didn't get us," said Jimmy.

"Yes," agreed Skipper Ed, "lucky--the kind of luck we were talking about
tonight. That is, the luck of the Almighty's bounty and protection. We
did the best we could, according to our lights, to protect and help
ourselves, and so He helped, and brought us safely back, none the worse,
and perhaps a little the stronger and better and richer in experience
than we were an hour ago."

"It was a corking good adventure, anyhow!" broke in Bobby. "That sort of
thing just makes me tingle all over! Somehow when I get out of a mess
like that I feel a lot bigger and stronger and more grown up. It was
great fun--now that it's over."

"You're a natural-born adventurer," laughed Skipper Ed. "You should have
lived in the old days, when men had to fight for their life, or went out
to find and conquer new lands."

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