Left on the Labrador | Page 7

come back till next June or July
month."
"If the ship don't come," broke in Charley, suddenly startled into his old

fear, "what can I do? What will become of me?"
"Well, now!" and Skipper Zeb broke into a hearty laugh. "'Tis just what
I says in the beginnin' about no worry, and about to-day bein' to-day
and to-morrow bein' to-morrow. You're cast away with shelter and grub.
That's not so bad, considerin'. Not the best of shelter and not the best of
grub, but not so bad either. You does your best to get out of this fix,
and the best way you finds is to bide right where you finds the shelter
and grub. If the mail boat don't come to-day, and I says fair and square,
I'm not expectin' she, you goes to Double Up Cove in the marnin' with
us. Whilst you're on The Labrador our home is your home, and I hopes
you'll like un."
"But Daddy! Poor Daddy! He'll be broken-hearted when he thinks I've
been lost at sea, and so will Mother!" Charley gulped hard to keep back
the tears.
"'Twill be a bit hard for un, but you can't help un," Skipper Zeb
consoled. "What's past is past, and there's no use worryin' about un.
You're busy tryin' to get out of a fix. They'll be so glad to see you when
you gets home, 'twill more than make up to un for the mournin' they
does now. Your feelin' bad and worryin' about un won't help your
father and mother any, and it'll get your insides upset, as I were sayin'.
You're gettin' out of a fix. You stick by the grub and shelter, such as 'tis,
and make the best of un, and be happy."
"Oh, thank you!" and tears came into Charley's eyes in spite of his
effort to keep them back. "Daddy will make it right with you. He'll pay
you for being good to me. He'll pay you all you ask."
"I asks nothing," said Skipper Zeb. "'Tis the right thing to do. Here on
The Labrador we stands shoulder to shoulder, and when a man's cast
away we takes him to our home till he can get to his own home. We all
be wonderful glad to have you. Ask Mrs. Twig, now."
"'Twill be wonderful fine to have you bide with us," and Mrs. Twig's
smile left no doubt of her sincerity. "You and Toby will be havin' rare
good times together."

"That we will, now!" broke in Toby quite excited at the prospect.
FOOTNOTE: [1] Seal.

IV
MISSING
Mr. Henry Wise, Mr. Bruce Norton's secretary, was enjoying himself.
The mail boat did not offer the luxuries to which he was accustomed, to
be sure, but it was much more to his liking than a hunting camp in the
wilderness, particularly in frosty weather and flying snow. He could not
keep his shoes properly polished, nor creases in his trousers, nor a
spotless collar tramping upon rough trails through underbrush, and the
very thought of sleeping in a tent, and upon the ground, was horrible.
When he had suggested to Mr. Norton that Charley was too young to
follow his father on the trail, he had done so with the hope that he
might be permitted to remain at St. John's in charge of Charley, and
there enjoy the comfort of a hotel in idleness. That the hunting trip
might prove too strenuous for Charley had not occurred to Mr. Norton
until the suggestion came from Mr. Wise after their arrival in St. John's.
Mr. Wise amplified his suggestion with the argument that it was quite
too great a physical undertaking for any boy of thirteen, and might
therefore create in Charley a distaste for future camping in the wilds.
This appealed to Mr. Norton as reasonable. He wished his boy to love
the wilds as he loved them. Perhaps, he admitted, Mr. Wise was right,
and if he took Charley with him, and Charley found the trails too hard,
not only his own holiday would be spoiled, but Charley would have
anything but a pleasant time.
In expectation that he would take him on his hunting expedition, Mr.
Norton had promised Charley a unique and enjoyable experience. Now
that he had decided against it, he cast about for a substitute. Mr. Norton
was a man of his word. Charley had looked forward with keen
anticipation to the hunting trip with his father, and had asked

innumerable questions concerning it, and talked of little else since
leaving New York. The prospect of camping in a real wilderness with
his father,--the association with his father in camp, rather than the camp
itself,--was the source of Charley's anticipated pleasure.
Not realizing this, and believing that any unusual experience would