Bobby of the Labrador by Dillon Wallace

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"Well, I'm glad it's over," Jimmy shuddered--"the run from the
wolves--and that they've gone. I didn't have time to feel much scared
out there, but I'm scared now of what might have happened. I don't like
to get into such fixes."

"Well, it's over, and all is well, and we're none the worse for it. Now
drink your hot tea, lads," counseled Skipper Ed. "We've work to do
before we sleep."

They ate their hardtack biscuit, and sipped the hot tea silently for a
little, listening the while to the snug and cheerful crackle of wood and
roar of flames in the big box stove.

"Now," said Skipper Ed finally, "we'll haul the wolves into the porch,
and make them safe, for the dogs are like to tear at them, and injure
the pelts."

The following morning the carcasses of five additional wolves were
discovered at the place where they had first fired upon the pack. Two of
the dogs, mangled and torn by wolf fangs, were dead, and three others
were so badly injured that for a long time they were unfitted for
driving. But the others had discreetly decided that it was better "to
run away and live to fight another day," and were none the worse for
their scrimmage.

Bobby, of course, ran over to Abel's cabin to tell the great news of the
battle, and Abel and Mrs. Abel must needs return with him to assist in
removing the pelts from the animals, and to spend the day with Skipper
Ed and his partner. And a merry day it was for all of them, for wolf
pelts could be traded at the mission store for necessaries. And none of
them gave heed or thought to the danger the pelts had cost, save to give
thanks to God for His deliverance; for dangers in that land are an
incident of the game of life, and there the game of life is truly a
man's game.

CHAPTER IX

THE FISHING PLACES

Like every other healthy lad of his years Bobby loved fun and adventure,
though he had early learned to carry upon his broad shoulders a full
portion of the responsibilities of the household. In the bleak land
where he lived there is no shifting of these responsibilities. Everyman,
and every boy, too, must do his share to wrest a living from the sea and
rocks, and Bobby had no thought but to do his part. If a boy cannot do
one thing in Labrador, he can do another. He can cut wood, hunt small
game, attend the fish nets, jig cod--there are a thousand things that he
can do, and make sport of as he does them, too, as Bobby did, until he
grows to man's estate.

Each summer Abel and Mrs. Abel returned to their old fishing place on
Itigailit Island, and of course Bobby went with them, and did his share
in jigging cod; and each summer Skipper Ed and Jimmy went to Skipper
Ed's old fishing place--the place where he had found his forlorn little
partner that stormy autumn day, when they had sealed their bargain with
a handshake.

The days of preparation for departure to the fishing were days of keen
and pleasurable anticipation for the boys. It was a break from the
routine of the long winter, and brought with it the novelty of change.
These promised weeks upon the open sea were always weeks of delight, and
above all else was the pleasure of seeing and sometimes visiting the
fishing schooners which occasionally chanced their way.

The schooners had a wonderful fascination for the lads, for they came
from the far-away and mysterious land of civilization of which Skipper
Ed had told them so often and so much, and of which they had read so
eagerly on long winter evenings.

It was more than a novelty to listen to the sailormen on the schooners
talk of the strange happenings in that wonderful land, and to hear them
sing their quaint old sea songs and chanteys, or relate marvelous
stories of adventure.

Sometimes a skipper would drop them a newspaper, many weeks old to be
sure, but as fresh and interesting to them as though it had come
directly from the press. Or perchance--and this was a treasure
indeed--an illustrated magazine fell to their lot. And no line of paper
or magazine, even to the last advertisement, but was read many and many
times over. And no illustration in the magazines but held their
attention for hours upon hours.

These old newspapers and magazines were preserved, and carried home to
take their place as a valued source of entertainment on stormy winter
days and long winter evenings. And finally the illustrations and more
interesting articles were clipped and pasted upon the walls until the
interiors of Abel's and Skipper Ed's cabins became veritable picture
galleries and libraries of reference.

But the eve of parting for their separate fishing places was always
tinged with sadness and regret, for during these weeks they were denied
one another's companionship.

"If our fishing places were only close to each other, so we could fish
together, wouldn't it be fine!" suggested Bobby, one spring day as he
and Jimmy sat on a rock below Abel's cabin, looking expectantly out over
the bay, while Abel, with Skipper Ed's assistance, put the finishing
touches upon the big boat in preparation for departure to their fishing
places the next morning.

"Yes, wouldn't it!" exclaimed Jimmy. "If we weren't so busy, Partner and
I would be dreadfully lonesome without you."

"And if it wasn't for being busy I'd be dreadfully lonesome without you,
too," admitted Bobby. "I always am, anyhow."

"Yes," said Jimmy, "so are we on days when the sea's so rough we can't
fish."

"But it's fine out there, and it's always fine to get back, isn't it,
Jimmy?"

"Aye, 'tis that!" declared Jimmy.

"But it makes me feel lonesome already," said Bobby, returning to the
original proposition, "to think that I won't see you and Skipper Ed for
so long."

"What's this I hear? Lonesome for Partner and me?" asked Skipper Ed,
who had finished with the boat and, coming up behind the boys, overheard
Bobby's remark.

"Yes," said Bobby, "at the fishing."

"Well, well, now, isn't that strange!" ejaculated Skipper Ed. "I was
thinking the same way, and Abel was thinking that way, too, and we've
been talking it over!"

"Jimmy and I think 'twould be fine if we could all fish together,"
continued Bobby.

"So were we! So were we! A strange coincidence!" declared Skipper Ed.
"And Abel thinks it might be arranged."

"Oh, can it? Can it?" and the boys jumped to their feet.

"I don't know," and Skipper Ed's face assumed a long and gloomy
expression as he seated himself upon the rock. "There's one thing in the
way and I couldn't consent."

"Why can't we?" asked Jimmy, in deep disappointment.

"Because," said Skipper Ed seriously, "I'm not free to consent."

"Why not? Yes, you are!" coaxed Bobby. "Please do."

"I'd like to," said Skipper Ed. "Yes, I'd _like_ to; but you see I've
got a partner, and one partner can't go ahead and do things unless the
other partner agrees. At any rate he shouldn't. Do you agree, Partner?"

The boys gave a whoop of joy.

"Then you consent, Partner?" and Skipper Ed's eyes twinkled humorously.

"Of course I do, Partner!" exclaimed Jimmy. "It's what I've wanted to do
right along."

"Then everything is arranged," said Skipper Ed. "Abel says there are
plenty of fish for all of us around Itigailit Island. Perhaps, then,
we'd better go home, Partner, and put things in shipshape for an early
start in the morning."

And so they parted in high glee, Bobby to the cabin to break the good
news to Mrs. Abel, and Skipper Ed down the trail toward his own cabin,
with Jimmy at his heels.

CHAPTER X

A FOOLHARDY SHOT

Though the days were long now, for this was July, when dawn comes in
this land before two o'clock in the morning, it was scarce daylight when
Skipper Ed and Jimmy in their big trap boat, and with a skiff in tow in
which were stowed his seven sledge dogs, hoisted sail and bore down the
bay before a westerly breeze.

And as they passed beyond the point which separated the cove in which
Abel's cabin stood from the cove where their own cabin stood, they
discovered Abel's boat almost abreast of them, and within hailing
distance. Bobby and Jimmy exchanged vociferous greetings, and Skipper Ed
and Abel converged their courses until the boats were so close as to
permit of conversation.

It was a glorious morning. The air was crisp and fragrant with whiffs of
forest perfumes borne down to them from the near-by shore. Banks of
brilliant red and orange in the eastern sky foretold the coming of the
sun. The sea sparkled. Gulls and other wild fowl soared overhead or rode
lightly upon the swell. A school of shining caplin shimmered on the
surface of the water. Here and there a seal lifted its curious head for
a moment, and then disappeared. At intervals a grampus, with a
startling, roaring blow, raised its great black back above the surface,
and then sank again from view.

On barren hillsides patches of snow, remnants of mighty drifts, lay
against the dark moist rocks like great white sheets, and here and there
miniature ice pans rose and fell upon the swell, reminders of the long
cold winter, for winter in this far northern clime is ever reluctant to
relinquish its grasp upon the earth.

The glow in the east disappeared at length, and then the sun rose to
caress them with his warmth. Presently mirages appeared. Islands seemed
to sit upon the tops of other islands, or to hang suspended in the air,
and every distant shore became distorted in the brilliant July sunlight.

"That's the way a good many of us look at things in this life," said
Skipper Ed. "We see the mirage, and not the thing itself. Hopes loom up
and look real, when they're just false. It's a great thing to be able to
tell the differences between what is real and what is just a mirage."

The wind fell away to a dead calm before noon, and though Abel and
Skipper Ed worked at their heavy sculling oars, and Bobby and Jimmy and
Mrs. Abel at the other oars, the boats, laden as they were, and retarded
by the skiffs in tow, made such slow progress that at length they
stopped at a convenient island to boil the kettle and cook their dinner
and wait for a returning breeze.

Dinner was a jolly feast, simple as it was, for in this land folk live
upon simple food and are satisfied with little variety, for their
appetites and desires are not glutted, as ours so often are. And many
things that you and I deem necessary they do not miss, because they have
never had them, and more often than not have never so much as heard of
them. And perhaps it is just as well, and their happiness is just as
complete.

A cod which Bobby caught with his jigger, was boiled in sea water,
because sea water salted it to just the right flavor. This was the first
cod of the season, and the first cod is always a delicacy, and so they
deemed it, together with some of Mrs. Abel's bread, and a pot of tea
sweetened with a drop of molasses.

Then Skipper Ed and Abel shaved tobacco from black plugs, and Skipper Ed
and Abel and Mrs. Abel talked while they waited for the wind to rise
that was to carry them on their journey.

It was a rocky, irregular island upon which they had halted, with rocks
sloping up from the water's edge, and on the top some struggling bunches
of brush. It was not a large island, but nevertheless Bobby and Jimmy
deemed it worthy of exploration, and so, bent upon discovery, they left
their elders to talk, while they wandered about.

"There's a dotar on the shore," exclaimed Bobby, stopping suddenly and
indicating the dark body of a harbor seal sunning itself comfortably
upon the surface of the smooth, flat rocks near water. "Wait here,
Jimmy, till I get my gun and try a shot at him."

And away he ran, presently to return with his gun--the same that Abel
had found in the boat at the time he discovered Bobby. It was
double-barreled, and a shotgun, but now both barrels were loaded with
round ball. And loaded with ball it was effective enough at fifty yards
or so, but far from certain in accuracy at a greater distance.

"Let's work down through the brush as far as we can," suggested Bobby,
"and then I'll crawl down on him, if he'll let me, for a good close
shot."

Slowly they crawled, and cautiously, looking at nothing and paying
attention to nothing but the seal, which, presently becoming conscious
of danger perhaps, grew restless; and though Bobby was not as near his
game as he should have wished, he threw up his gun and fired. The
bullet, after the manner of bullets fired from shotguns at long range,
went wide of its mark, and the seal, after the manner of seals, slipped
gently into the water and was gone.

"There he goes!" exclaimed Bobby in disgust, springing to his feet. "If
I had only had a rifle!"

"Yes," said Jimmy, "you'd have--"

Jimmy's sentence was cut short by the sound of a heavy tread behind
them, and wheeling about our young hunters discovered a big polar bear,
in the edge of the brush and not twenty yards away. It had apparently
been aroused from an afternoon sleep, and not being partial to human
society was now bent upon an expeditious departure from the vicinity.
Quick as a flash Bobby raised his gun to his shoulder.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" warned Jimmy.

But Bobby did not heed the warning. The bullet from the undischarged
barrel went crashing into the animal's shoulder. The bear stumbled, bit
furiously at the wound, and then in a rage charged upon his now
defenseless enemies.

Polar bears, unless very hungry, or unless
placed in a position where they must defend themselves, will rarely
attack man. But when wounded they are more likely than not to become
furious, and their fury knows no bounds. Bent upon revenge they will
attack viciously and are dangerous enemies. The hunter who wounds a
polar bear without first taking the precaution to prepare for defense or
retreat, tries an exceedingly dangerous experiment.

[Illustration: Quick as a flash Bobby raised his gun to his shoulder]

This was exactly what Bobby had done. The instant he fired the shot he
realized that he had not reached a vital spot. In his eagerness to
secure the bear he took the chance of his single bullet disabling it. A
reckless game it was, but he played it and lost.

Jimmy was unarmed and Bobby had no time to reload, for he knew the bear
would charge immediately.

"Run, Jimmy! Run for your life!" he shouted.

But Jimmy needed no warning. He was already putting into action all the
speed he could muster, and away went Bobby, also.

Jimmy chose the open space nearer the shore, Bobby a more direct, though
more obstructed, course across the island, but both took the general
direction of camp. As the two diverged the bear, probably because he was
more plainly in view, chose to follow Jimmy, and followed him so
strenuously and with such singleness of purpose that he was presently
at Jimmy's very heels--so close at his heels, indeed, that had Jimmy
stopped or hesitated or lessened his speed for an instant, the
infuriated beast would have been upon him.

Bobby was quick to discover that the bear had left his own trail, and he
was also quick to discover Jimmy's imminent danger. There was no other
help at hand. If Jimmy was to be saved, he must save him. The thought
crossed his mind like a flash of lightning. He did not lose his
head--Bobby never lost his head in an emergency. He thought of
everything. He feared there was not time to reload, but it was the only
thing to do. As he ran he drew two shells, loaded with ball, from his
pocket. For the fraction of a minute he halted, "broke" his gun, dropped
the shells into place, snapped the gun back and threw it to his
shoulder, but in the brief interval that had elapsed the bear and Jimmy
had so far gained upon him that the distance between him and the bear
loomed up before him now as almost hopelessly long. If he only had a
rifle, instead of his shotgun! But it was the last hope, and whispering
a prayer to God to send the bullet straight, with nerves as tense as
steel, he pulled the trigger.

His heart leaped with joy as he saw the bear stop, bite again at the
wound, this time near its hind quarters, and then with a roar of rage
turn from Jimmy toward himself.

He would not risk another shot at that distance. He would wait now for
his enemy to come to close quarters, and with nimble fingers he slipped
a loaded shell into the empty barrel, that when the time came to shoot
he might have two bullets at his disposal instead of one. He had never
felt so perfectly cool and steady in his life, nor so absolutely
unafraid, as now, while he stood erect and waited.

The bear was not twenty feet away when he fired his first shot. It
staggered, shook its head for a moment, and then rushed on. Bobby drew a
careful bead and fired again. The bear fell forward, pawed the rocks,
regained its feet, and lunged at Bobby.

CHAPTER XI

WHEN THE ICEBERG TURNED

But the bear had spent its vitality, and as Bobby sprang nimbly aside it
fell at the very spot upon which the young hunter had stood when he
delivered his last shot, struggled a little, gave a gasp or two, and
died. And when Jimmy came running up a moment later Bobby with great
pride was standing by the side of his prostrate victim.

"We got him, Jimmy! We got him!" said he in high glee, touching the
carcass with his toe.

"But, Bobby, what a chance you took!" Jimmy exclaimed. "Supposing you
hadn't stopped him!"

"No chance of that at all," declared Bobby in his usual positive tone.
"All I wanted was time to load, and I knew I'd get him."

"Well, I'm thankful you got him, instead of he getting you, and I was
afraid for a minute he was going to get us both," and Jimmy breathed
relief, as he placed his foot against the dead bear. "My, but he's a big
one! I don't think I ever saw a bigger one!"

"He _is_ a ripper!" admitted Bobby proudly. "Won't the folks be glad!"

And Bobby was justified in his pride. He had fired upon the beast in
the first instance, not through the lust of killing but because he was
prompted to do so by the instinct of the hunter who lives upon the
product of his weapons. In this far northern land it is the instinct of
self-preservation to kill, for here if man would live he must kill.

In Labrador they butcher wild animals for food just as we butcher steers
and sheep and hogs for food, and the only difference is that the wild
creature, matching its instincts and fleetness and strength against the
hunter's skill, has a reasonable chance of escape, while our domestic
animals, deprived of liberty, are driven helpless to the slaughter.

In our kindlier clime the rich soil, too, produces vegetables and fruits
upon which we might do very well, if necessary, without ever eating
meat; but in the bleak land where Bobby and Jimmy lived the summer is
short and the soil is barren, and there are no vegetables, and no fruits
save scattered berries on the inland hillsides. And so it is that here
men must depend upon flesh and fish for their existence and they must
kill if they would live.

Every lad on The Labrador, therefore, is taught from earliest youth to
take pride in his profession of hunter and trapper and fisherman--for on
The Labrador every man is a professional hunter and trapper and
fisherman--and to strive for skill and the praise of his elders, and
Bobby was no exception to the rule.

And so it came about that Bobby at the age of thirteen proved himself a
bold and brave hunter, and standing now over the carcass of his victim
he felt a vast and consistent pride in his success; for it was no small
achievement for a lad of his years to have killed, single-handed and
poorly armed, a full grown polar bear. It was an accomplishment, indeed,
in which a grown man and a more experienced hunter than Bobby might have
taken pride; and a grown man could scarcely have employed better
tactics, or shown greater skill and courage, after the first foolhardy
shot had been fired.

But this was Bobby's way. It was an exhibition of his old trait of
getting himself and Jimmy into a scrape and then by quick action and
practical methods getting them safely out of it again.

Skipper Ed and Abel had heard the reports of Bobby's gun, and they knew
that something unusual was on foot. The first shot did not disturb them.
That, they knew, was for the seal for which Bobby had taken the gun. But
no self-respecting seal will remain as a target to be fired at
repeatedly, and the shots that followed told their practiced ears that
more important game than a seal was the object of the fusillade. And so,
without parley, each seized his rifle, and together they set out across
the island, and thus it happened that presently they came upon Bobby and
Jimmy admiring the prize.

"Jimmy and I got a bear! A ripping big one, too!" said Bobby as the two
men came up to them, giving Jimmy equal credit, for if he was positive,
Bobby was also generous, and wished his friend to share in the glory of
his triumphs and achievements.

"Bobby got him alone," corrected Jimmy. "I legged it, and if it hadn't
been for Bobby he'd have caught me."

"Oh, you know better than that," protested Bobby. "You got in his way,
so he'd take after you, and that gave me time to load, and shoot him."

"_Peauke! Peauke!_" exclaimed Abel. "A fine fat bear."

"Good for you, Bobby!" commented Skipper Ed, looking the carcass over.
"I never killed as big a bear as that myself. Good work!"

"And we'll have some meat now, and won't have to eat just fish all
summer," said Bobby, who had the respect of most healthy boys for his
stomach.

"We'll feast like kings," agreed Skipper Ed. "Flesh as well as fish.
Great luck! Great luck! And I'll be bound not another lad of your age
could have got a bear like that with just a shotgun. Why, neither Abel
nor I would have tackled him with just a shotgun. No, sir, we wouldn't!"

And Skipper Ed put it to Abel, who declared he never would have risked a
shotgun unless he had a spear, also, to protect himself.

Deftly and quickly they skinned and dressed the carcass, wasting no part
of the flesh, save the liver, which they fed to the dogs, for, as every
one knows, the liver of the polar bear is poisonous and unfit for human
consumption.

"I could eat a steak right now," suggested Bobby, when the meat was
stowed.

But there was no time now to cook bear steaks, for a breeze had sprung
up and they must needs take advantage of it, and Skipper Ed and Jimmy
had already hoisted sail.

"Never mind," said Abel, "I'll show you! I'll show you!" and with an air
of mystery, and chuckling to himself, Abel hurriedly gathered some flat
stones which he piled into the boat.

"Now," suggested Abel, when they were at last moving, "you take the
tiller, Bobby, and we'll see about the bear steaks."

With much care he proceeded to arrange the stones in the bottom of the
boat until presently a very excellent fireplace was built, and so
arranged that the boat itself was well protected. No wood save driftwood
was to be found on Itigailit Island or on the near-by shores, and
therefore both Abel's boat and Skipper Ed's boat had been provided with
sufficient firewood to meet the needs of their camp for several days.
And so, with fuel at hand, Abel quickly had a cozy fire blazing in his
fireplace and Mrs. Abel, laughing and enjoying the novel experience of
cooking in a boat, had some tea brewing and some bear's steaks sizzling
in the pan in a jiffy.

Skipper Ed's trap boat, though a fine sea craft, was not so fast a
sailer in a light breeze as Abel's, and though Skipper Ed and Jimmy had
left the island some little time in advance the boats were now so close
that Abel could make himself heard, and standing in the bow he bawled:

"_Pujolik! Pujolik!_" (A steamer! A steamer!)

A steamship in these waters was uncommon. No steamer had ever come into
the bay, indeed--for they were still in the bay--at least within the
memory of man, and eager to see what manner of ship it might be Skipper
Ed and Jimmy were on their feet in an instant, eagerly searching the
eastern horizon.

Abel was immediately convulsed with laughter, and Mrs. Abel laughed, and
Bobby laughed, and when Skipper Ed and Jimmy, failing to discover the
steamer, or any signs of it, turned inquiringly back toward Abel, still
standing in the bow, Abel pointed to the smoke rising from the fire, and
repeated:

"_Pujolik! Pujolik_!"

Then Skipper Ed and Jimmy understood, and they laughed too. It was a
great joke, Abel thought, and for an hour afterward he indulged at
intervals in quiet chuckles, and even after the two boats had drawn
alongside, and tea and fried bear's steaks had been passed to Skipper Ed
and Jimmy, that they too might share in the feast, Abel laughed.

It was noon the following day when the boats drew up to the old landing
place on Itigailit Island, and an hour later the two tents were pitched
on Abel Zachariah's old camping ground, and everything was as snug and
settled, and they were all as perfectly at home, as though they had been
living there for months.

Then the dogs in the skiffs were brought ashore and released from their
two days' confinement, and Abel's train and Skipper Ed's train, after
the manner of Eskimo dogs, immediately engaged in a pitched battle. They
began by snarling and snapping at one another with ugly, bared fangs,
and then followed a rush toward each other and they became a rolling,
tumbling mass of fearsome, fighting creatures, and had to be beaten
asunder with stout sticks before they could be induced to settle into
their quiet and uneventful summer existence.

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