Left on the Labrador | Page 5

to be playin'!" He spoke in a big voice that quite suited his
size, but which startled Charley, and did not reassure him. "What's to
be done about un now? What be you thinkin' to do?"
"I don't know. I don't know what to do," answered Charley timidly.
Toby's Dad put down the gun he was cleaning and wiped his hand on a
cloth.
"Leastways we'll make the best of un," he said, taking Charley's hand in
a bear-like clasp. "Besides bein' Toby's Dad, I'm Skipper Zebulon Twig
of Double Up Cove, and this is Mrs. Twig and this is Vi'let, the
smartest little maid on The Labrador."
Skipper Zebulon Twig laughed so heartily that Charley forgot his
difficulty for a moment, and laughed too, while he shook hands with
Mrs. Twig, who had, Charley thought, a nice motherly way, and with
Violet, who took his hand shyly.
"Now," said Skipper Zeb, "you're in a fix. You're cast away. The worst
fix a man can get in, to my thinkin', is to be cast away on a rock, or on
the ice, without grub. But you're cast away with grub, and that's not so
bad. There's a pot of stewed bear's meat with dumplin' just ready. We'll
set in and eat, and then talk about your fix. 'Tis hard to think a way out
of fixes with an empty belly, and we'll fill ours. Then we'll get to the
bottom of this fix. We'll find a way out of un. You'll see!"

III

SKIPPER ZEB FIXES MATTERS
Mrs. Twig placed the big earthen bowl with the appetizing odour in the
center of the table, together with a plate heaped high with slices of
white bread and a bowl of molasses. Then she poured tea.
"Dinner's ready this minute," boomed Skipper Zeb. "Set in, and we'll
eat."
There was no cover upon the home-made table, but its top had been
scoured clean and white with sand and water. The cabin boasted no
chairs, and chests were drawn up by Skipper Zeb and Toby to the ends
of the table, and a bench on each side, to serve as seats.
Accepting the invitation, Charley took a place beside Toby on one of
the benches, Violet sat on the bench opposite them, while the Skipper
and Mrs. Twig each took an end. When all were seated, Skipper Zeb, in
so big a voice Charley was sure the Lord could not fail to hear, asked a
devout blessing upon the family, the stranger within their home, and
upon the food.
"Turn to, now, and eat hearty," Skipper Zeb invited, indicating the
earthen bowl. "'Tisn't much we has, but 'tis good. Mrs. Twig makes the
finest dumplin' on The Labrador. I knows for I eats un. I shoots the bear
last week, and 'twere as fine and fat a bear as ever I sees. He were just
prime to curl up for his winter sleep."
"It looks good, and I'm hungry," said Charley, transferring, with a big
serving spoon, a portion of the stewed bear's meat and dumpling to his
plate. "I never ate bear's meat, and I've always wished I could."
"Never ate bear's meat!" exclaimed Skipper Zeb. "Well, now! And we
gets a bear most every year. What kind of meat does you eat where you
comes from? 'Tis likely you gets plenty of deer's meat?"
"Beef, and lamb, and veal, and pork, but I don't care much for pork,
except bacon," said Charley.

"Well, now! In all my days I never tastes beef or lamb or veal! We gets
pickled pork at the post, and 'tis wonderful fine meat I thinks. If beef
and lamb and veal be better than pork, I'd like to try un once. They must
be a rare treat." Skipper Zeb smacked his lips. "Yes, sir, I'd like to try
un once! And does you hunt un?"
"No," Charley smiled, "the animals are raised on farms and the meat is
sold at stores."
"Well, now! What wonderful things goes on in the world, and we never
knows about un down here on The Labrador." Skipper Zeb shook his
head in astonishment. "Does you mark that, Sophia? They raises the
animals and then kills un, and sells the meat at the tradin' stores!"
"'Tis a queer way," admitted Mrs. Twig.
"'Tis a fine way!" enthused Skipper Twig. "Twould be fine if we could
raise deer and kill un when we wants un."
"Here's sweetenin' for your tea," and Toby, observing that Charley had
not helped himself, passed the molasses.
"Thank you," Charley accepted, putting a spoonful of the molasses into
his tea, and wondering why it was used instead of sugar, but venturing
no question. Had he asked, Skipper Zeb would have told him that it
was much less expensive