Left on the Labrador | Page 3

a natural pier for the fishing station.
There was some bitterness in Charley's heart as he watched the retreating boat, and so occupied was he that he failed to observe, until it was quite near, another boat pulling toward the ship. It was a small, dilapidated old boat, with a boy of fourteen or thereabouts at the oars.
Charley leaned over the rail, and with much interest watched the boy make the painter fast to the ladder, and then, like a squirrel, mount the ladder to the deck.
The visitor was dressed much like the other natives that Charley had seen. An Eskimo adikey, made of white moleskin cloth, with the hood thrown back, served as a coat. His trousers were also of white moleskin, and were tucked into knee-high sealskin boots with moccasined feet. From under a muskrat fur cap appeared a round, smiling face, tanned a dark brown, and a pair of bright, pleasant eyes.
"Hello!" said Charley. "Looking for some one?"
"No," answered the boy, "I'm just pullin' over to look at the ship."
Charley was seized by a sudden impulse, and acted on it instantly.
"Will you take me ashore? The ship will be here for half an hour, and maybe longer. I'll give you a dollar if you'll take me ashore and bring me back."
"And you wants to go I'll pull you ashore," agreed the boy cheerfully. "I'll be goin' down and holdin' the boat up so you can get into she easy."
Without parley he slipped over the side and down the ladder into the boat, which he drew broadside to the ladder and there held it until Charley, who followed, was seated astern.
"Where you wantin' to go now?" asked the boy. "To the boat landin'?"
"Just anywhere ashore," directed Charley. "Let's land over where I can climb that hill and have a look around."
He indicated a low hill midway between the tickle and the cabins, and the boy soon made a landing on a shelving rock, above which the hill rose abruptly. Charley helped him pull the boat to a safe place, and waited while he made the painter fast. Then the two began the ascent of the hill.
"What's your name?" asked Charley.
"Toby Twig," answered the boy.
"My name is Charley Norton, and I'm from New York. I'm taking a cruise in the mail boat."
"I'm wishin' every time I sees she come in that I could be takin' a cruise in she! It must be wonderful fine."
"I don't think it is. It's too cold on deck and too smelly in the cabin. It must get pretty cold here in winter. Where I live we hardly ever have snow until the end of December."
"Aye, it does get wonderful cold," agreed Toby. "'Twill not be long now till the harbour freezes and the sea too."
"Can't you use boats in winter?"
"No, we can't use un much longer now. We cruises with dogs in winter, after the harbour and the sea freezes."
"It must be dreadfully lonesome with no boats coming in."
"I don't find un lonesome. There's aplenty to do. We hunts in winter, and 'tis fine fun."
"Did you ever shoot a wolf?" asked Charley in some awe.
"No, but I sees un. Last winter I sees five wolves, but they keeps too far away to shoot un."
"My, but I'd like to see a wild wolf! Did you ever see a bear?"
"Yes, I sees bears, black and white. Dad killed a black bear last week."
The two had crossed the crest of the hill, as they talked, wholly oblivious of the passage of time, until Toby suggested:
"I'm thinkin' now we'd better be goin' back. The mail boat never bides long here."
"She was to be here half an hour," said Charley, as they retraced their steps. "We haven't been half an hour."
A moment later they reached the top of the hill. Both boys stopped and looked below them and in consternation into the empty harbour.
"She's gone! The ship has gone!" cried Charley in sudden fright.
"She's gone!" echoed Toby. "She's goin' and leavin' you!"
"Oh, catch her! Signal her! Do something!" Charley plead helplessly.
"We can't catch she or signal she! She's too far," and Toby pointed to a long black line of smoke rising above the rocks beyond Pinch-In Tickle, and more than a mile distant.
"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" wailed Charley in wild despair.
What indeed could he do? Here he was, left upon the bleak rocks of the Labrador coast, at the edge of an Arctic winter, a lad of thirteen, a stranger in a strange and desolate land.
[Illustration: "SHE'S GONE! THE SHIP HAS GONE!" CRIED CHARLEY IN SUDDEN FRIGHT.]

II
THE TWIGS OF PINCH-IN TICKLE
"You'll be comin' along with me," suggested Toby. "Dad'll be knowin' what to do."
"But the boat has gone! How can I get home?" Charley almost sobbed, quite beside himself with despair and terror.
"Don't be takin'