Bobby of the Labrador

  Produced by Wallace McLean, Edna Badalian and the Online DistributedProofreading Team.

  BOBBY OF THE LABRADOR

  It was plain that retreat was hopelessly cut off]

  Bobby of the Labrador

  BY DILLON WALLACE

  AUTHOR OF "THE FUR TRAIL ADVENTURERS," "THE LURE OF THE LABRADOR WILD,""THE WILDERNESS CASTAWAYS," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRANK E. SCHOONOVER

  A.C. McCLURG (Publishers Stamp)]

  DEDICATED

  TO

  L.G.H.

  WHO KNOWS WHY

  If I may call you friend, I wish you this-- No gentle destiny throughout the years;No soft content, or ease, or unearned bliss Bereft of heart-ache where no sorrow nears,But rather rugged trouble for a mate To mold your soul against the coming blight,To train you for the ruthless whip of fate And build your heart up for the bitter fight.

  If I may call you friend, I wish you more-- A rare philosophy no man may fake,To put the game itself beyond the score And take the tide of life as it may break;To know the struggle that a man should know Before he comes through with the winning hit,And, though you slip before the charging foe, To love the game too well to ever quit.

  GRANTLAND RICE.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I The Boat That Came Down from the Sea

  II The Mystery and Bobby

  III Skipper Ed and His Partner

  IV Over a Cliff

  V The Rescue

  VI With Passing Years

  VII The Wolf Pack

  VIII The Battle

  IX The Fishing Places

  X A Foolhardy Shot

  XI When the Iceberg Turned

  XII Adrift on the Open Sea

  XIII How the _Good and Sure_ Brought Trouble

  XIV Visions in Delirium

  XV Marooned in an Arctic Blizzard

  XVI A Snug Refuge

  XVII Prisoner on a Barren Island

  XVIII The Winter of Famine

  XIX Off to the _Sena_

  XX Jimmy's Sacrifice

  XXI Who Was the Hero?

  XXII A Storm and a Catastrophe

  XXIII It Was God's Will

  XXIV Under the Drifting Snow

  XXV A Lonely Journey

  XXVI Cast Away on the Ice

  XXVII A Struggle for Existence

  XXVIII The Ships That Came Down to the Ice

  XXIX In Strange Lands

  XXX The Mystery Cleared

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  It was plain that retreat was hopelessly cut off _Frontispiece_

  "Hurry, Jimmy. I can't hang here much longer. I'm getting all numb"

  Quick as a flash Bobby raised his gun to his shoulder

  They ran by the side of the _komatik_ to keep warm

  "I was hunting," explained Bobby. "The ice broke loose and cut Jimmy,and me off from Skipper Ed"

  Bobby of the Labrador

  CHAPTER I

  THE BOAT THAT CAME DOWN FROM THE SEA

  Abel Zachariah was jigging cod. Cod were plentiful, and Abel Zachariahwas happy. It still lacked two hours of mid-day, and already he hadcaught a skiffload of fish and had landed them on Itigailit Island,where his tent was pitched.

  Now, as he jigged a little off shore, he could see Mrs. Abel Zachariah,the yellow sunshine spread all about her, splitting his morning catch ona rude table at the foot of the sloping rocks. Above her stood thelittle tent that was their summer home, and here and there the bigsledge dogs, now idle and lazy and fat, sprawled blissfully upon therocks enjoying the August morning, for this was their season of rest andplenty.

  With a feeling of deep content Abel drew in his line, unhooked aflapping cod, returned the jigger to the water, and, as he resumed themonotonous tightening and slackening of line, turned his eyes again tothe peaceful scene ashore.

  Mrs. Abel in this brief interval had left the splitting table and hadascended the sloping rock a little way, where she now stood, shading hereyes with her right hand and gazing intently seaward. Suddenly she begangesticulating wildly, and shouting, and over the water to Abel came thewords:

  "_Umiak! Umiak!_" (A boat! A boat!)

  Abel arose deliberately in his skiff, and looking in the direction inwhich Mrs. Abel pointed discovered, coming out of the horizon, a boat,rising and falling upon the swell. It carried no sail, and after carefulscrutiny Abel's sharp eyes could discern no man at the oars. This, then,was the cause of Mrs. Abel's excitement. The boat was unmanned--aderelict upon the broad Atlantic.

  A drifting boat is fair booty on the Labrador coast. It is therecognized property of the man who sees it and boards it first. Andshould it be a trap boat he is indeed a fortunate man, for the value ofa trap boat is often greater than a whole season's catch of fish.

  So Abel lost no time in hauling in and coiling his jigger line, inadjusting his oars, and in pulling away toward the derelict with all thestrength his strong arms and sinewy body could muster.

  Abel had wished for a good sea boat all his life. When the fishingschooners now and again of a foggy night anchored behind ItigailitIsland he never failed to examine the fine big trap boats which theycarried. Sometimes he had ventured to inquire how much salt fish theywould accept in exchange for one. But he had never had enough fish, andhis desire to possess a boat seemed little less likely of fulfilmentthan that of a boy with a dime in his pocket, covetously contemplating agold watch in the shop window.

  But here, at last, drifting directly toward him, as though Old Oceanmeant it as a gift, propelled by a gentle breeze and an incoming tide,came a boat that would cost him nothing but the getting. Fortune wassmiling upon Abel Zachariah this fine August morning.

  Now and again as he approached the derelict, Abel rested upon his oars,that he might turn about for a moment and feast his eyes upon hisprospective prize, and revel in the pleasure of anticipation about to berealized.

  And so, presently, he discovered that the boat was not a trap boat afterall, but a much finer craft than any trap boat he had ever seen. Itslines were much more graceful, it had recently been painted, and, as itrose and fell with the swell, a varnished gunwale glistened in thesunlight. It was fully four fathoms and a half in length, and wasundoubtedly a ship's boat; and, being a ship's boat, was probably builtof hard wood, and therefore vastly superior to the spruce boats of thefishermen.

  Abel had fully satisfied himself upon these points before, keenlyexpectant, he at length rowed alongside the derelict. Grasping itsgunwale to steady himself, he was about to step aboard when, with anexclamation of astonishment and horror, he released his hold upon thegunwale and resumed his seat in the skiff.

  Stretched in the boat lay the body of a man. In the man's side was agreat gaping wound, and his clothing and the boat were spattered andsmeared with blood. The man was dead. In the fixed, cold stare of hiswide-open eyes was a look of hopeless appeal, and the ghastly terror ofone who had beheld some awful vision.