"We've been in hell, Bob! In hell! The devils chased us, Bob—chased us for months and months and months. They looked like wolves, Bob—hungry, ugly wolves. I shot one! Yes, shot it! We ate it, and it was good! Ate the devil, Bob! and Ed! and Dick! Are you angels from heaven, or really you?"

"A bit o' tea's what he needs first thing," suggested Ed, in a shaky voice, as Shad paused in his ramblings. "Dick, you cut some wood, now, an' I'll be fillin' th' kettle with ice an' get un over. Bob better be stayin' right here."

"Bob!" Shad continued, as Dick and Ed passed out of the lodge. "Is it really you, Bob?"

His voice was now more rational, though very weak.

"Yes, Shad, 'tis me."

"How is Manikawan, Bob? Look after her, won't you? I'm all right now. I've tried to keep her out of the deep sleeps she falls into. I've been afraid she'd die. But I was very tired, and I think I must have been very sound asleep myself—and slept for hours. Leave me, Bob, and wake her up. I'm all right."

Bob obediently passed over to Manikawan, leaving Shad sitting and anxiously watching him.

It seemed for a time that he was not to succeed in rousing Manikawan from the coma-like sleep into which she had passed. But when Dick placed wood upon the fire, and the lodge began to warm, she displayed symptoms of waking; and Bob lifted her head to his shoulder, chafed her temples, and spoke her name over and over again. At last she opened her eyes, and with almost instant recognition smiled:

"White Brother of the Snow—Manikawan is glad you have come. It has—been—long—but Manikawan knew—White Brother of the Snow—would come at last—she did not—leave his friend."

Then she paused, exhausted, but presently continued:

"Manikawan told—White Brother of the Snow—she would—stay until he came—for his friend."

"Manikawan has done well. She has been very brave. She is a Ne-ne-not (Nascaupee), and brave." Bob could trust himself to say no more, for his voice was thick.

Manikawan's eyes lighted at these words of praise, and, never taking them from Bob's face, she lay silent upon his shoulder until the food was ready.

Ed Matheson gave some tea and a small portion of broiled ptarmigan and bread to Shad, while Bob held the cup for Manikawan, then fed her some morsels of the meat as one would have fed a child. It was difficult for her to eat, though the tea stimulated her temporally, and she began presently to speak again, in a scarcely audible voice:

"The Spirit—of Hunger—followed us. The Gaunt Gray—Wolf—was—always—behind—us. The—Spirit—of—Death—stood—at—the—door—of the—lodge. The spirits—were—strong—and cunning—like—the wolverine—Manikawan—was—weak—like a rabbit."

She was out of breath again and had to rest, and Bob held the cup of tea to her lips. With renewed strength she continued:

"Manikawan—killed—two ptarmigans—with—her—arrow. She—ate—the—entrails—but she—gave—the meat—to the friend—of White Brother of—the Snow. She was—not afraid—to die. She—could—not say to—White Brother—of the Snow—when he came—'The Spirit—of Death—has—entered—the lodge—and—taken—your—friend.'"

There was another pause. Bob could see, and Ed and Dick could see that the Spirit of Death was even then in the lodge, and that his cold hand was upon Manikawan's brow. Tears trickled down Bob's cheeks. He could not check them.

"White—Brother—of—the—Snow—must—not—feel—bad. He—must—be—strong. Manikawan—is—happy. She—is—warm—as—when—the—sun—grows—brave—in—summer—and— comes—to—warm—the—earth."

A smile played upon her lips.

"Manikawan—is—very—happy. She—sees—a—light—like—the—rising—sun. White—Brother—of—the—Snow—"

That was the end. Bob's cheeks were wet as he laid the lifeless form upon its couch of boughs, and gently covered it with a deerskin robe; and tears streamed down the weather-beaten cheeks of the two rough trappers standing at his side.

Manikawan was not a Christian. She had never heard of Christ and His saving grace. But dare any say He did not welcome her to His Father's house?

She had renounced her own hope of life by remaining behind in the lodge when Mookoomahn left them. In the name of love and duty she had made the supreme sacrifice—she had laid down her life for another—and Christ hath said: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

And, after all, did Manikawan not worship the same God that you and I worship? Standing upon the high pinnacle of rock, looking toward the rising sun, she offered a silent prayer to the Great Mystery, that she might be made nobler, braver, and more generous—worthy to stand in the presence of the Great Mystery—the Maker of heaven and earth and all things.

We call Him God. Manikawan called Him the Great Mystery.



XXVII

SHAD'S TRIBUTE TO THE INDIAN MAIDEN

Though Shad's weakness caused him to wobble woefully when he walked, his knee had much improved since the day of his injury.

The food, given him in small portions at frequent intervals, and the assurance of continued life that the appearance of the rescuers brought, stimulated his body to new strength and restored to him his mental equilibrium. Hope is life, and one possessed of a large degree of hope, coupled with a good physique, may withstand a tremendous amount of hardship and privation.

The very presence of Manikawan during the long period of enforced inactivity and waiting, had kept alive in Shad Trowbridge the hope that Mookoomahn might after all reach the river tilt and send his friends to the rescue before it was too late. Had it not been for this, it is scarcely probable he would have survived until they came.

The few Indian words which Shad had acquired had not been sufficient to permit him to carry on connected conversation with Manikawan or the other Indians. Denied this privilege for so long, he talked almost incessantly to the three trappers, while the four sat through the hours until daybreak, keeping vigil with Death. He talked of the prospect of continued life, and what a blessed thing it was to know that he was still to be in and of the great and glorious world; of his trying experiences since he had joined the Indians.

With dawn the tent was pitched among the trees, not far from the lodge. Then they removed to its more comfortable shelter, with Bob walking at Shad's side to steady his uncertain footsteps.

Shad was sick, and suffered severely from nausea that day—and at intervals, indeed, for several days thereafter—a result that always follows the introduction of food into the contracted stomach after a long period of starvation, particularly when the food is of coarse quality and unsuitably prepared.

Almost immediately, too, his legs began to swell. But this disturbed him little. It was merely an incident and another result of his long period of starvation, quite to be expected.

"Don't worry about un none," advised Ed Matheson, when Shad called attention to the phenomenon. "Injuns as starves always gets swelled legs, an' they stays swelled for quite a bit, too. Just forget un now. You'll be all right so long's you don't get too rapid wi' th' grub, an' set you'm belly swellin' too fast."

"Ed," said Shad, "after what I've been through, I think there's nothing would alarm me much. It doesn't disturb me in the least to have my legs swell. I'm rather proud of them. They contrast beautifully with the rest of me, and give me a certain sense of stability that otherwise I should not have, for they're the only part of me that looks in the least natural. Do you hear my bones rattle when I move? I have a presentment that, unless I'm pretty careful, my skeleton will fall apart before I get flesh enough to hold it together."

"Now that's th' way I likes t' see folk!" exclaimed Ed. "Not growlin' like a bear because they looks summat like a dead man, an' because they has a bit o' ache in their insides every time they eats. You'm do look as though you'm just rize from th' grave. But you'm a wonderful live corpse yet, Shad. A man may's well be happy even if he do feel like all creation turned inside out, 'specially when he knows he ain't goin' t' keep feelin' that way. A man is just as happy as he's thinkin' he is, an' no happier, an' as miserable as he's thinkin' he is an' no miserabler. I finds bein' happy an' content wi' things is just a matter o' th' way o' lookin' at un."

"Yes, Ed, I think you're right," agreed Shad. "I'm finding no fault. I'm thankful to be alive and in the beautiful world, and I'm very much contented with my lot. I would be very happy, too, but for the thought of that poor little Indian girl."

The earth, frozen to adamantine hardness, precluded the possibility of digging a grave during the winter season. Therefore, after the manner of her people, a platform of poles, high raised above the snow, was built among the spruce trees to receive Manikawan's body.

It was late in the afternoon when the platform was completed and the four weatherbeaten men again entered the silent lodge, where they were to conduct a simple, primitive funeral service, and give Manikawan the rites of Christian burial before raising her body to the platform.

Bob, who never was separated from the little Testament his mother had given him years before, drew the book from his pocket when they had seated themselves in the lodge, and opening to John xv, passed it to Shad, who, accepting it, read the chapter aloud in a low but clear voice, while the others reverently listened.

[Transcriber's note: John XV:12-13—"This is my commandment: love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends."]

"Bob," said Shad at length, closing the Testament, "you knew her first. Tell us about her."

Responding, Bob described how Sishetakushin and Mookoomahn, finding him unconscious in the snow, had carried him to their lodge—the very lodge in which they were now sitting; and how upon first opening his eyes to consciousness he had seen her, weaving the web of a snowshoe, opposite him, across the fire—just where she was lying now; and she had looked up and smiled when she discovered he was awake. And then, ever gentle, ever considerate, she had nursed him to health, and ministered to him until he had left them.

When Bob had finished, Shad spoke of her never-failing thoughtfulness and consideration. Of the encouragement of her example as, uncomplaining, she followed the weary, endless trail day after day. Of her hand lightly laid upon his shoulder as she looked into his eyes and spoke words of encouragement he could not understand, but which never failed to call him back to himself and his manhood and to banish an impulse which frequently assailed him to give up the fight for life, lie down in the snow and accept the release from suffering which Death offered.

"But her crowning sacrifice," said Shad, "came when she refused to leave me alone to die; and I certainly could not have survived had I been left in this lodge without human companionship.

"Manikawan could have gone on with Mookoomahn and saved herself. He went to you and told you of our need. He did well, but he did it mainly to save himself. It was the instinct of self-preservation that gave him inspiration to accomplish it. But she remained, and remaining she gave me the only food that fell to her arrow, while she starved. That was divine unselfishness—divine sacrifice."

Stepping to the side of Manikawan's lifeless body, he lifted and laid aside the skin robe which covered her face, then kneeling at her side, with tears upon his cheeks, he continued:

"Manikawan, your skin was red, but your soul was as white as the driven snow that covers the desolate land of your people. Your features are shrunken with starvation and suffering, but still they are beautiful, for they reflect the beautiful, unselfish soul which they once sheltered.

"Your lips smile. Did you see the glory of heaven as you passed from us—a thousand times more beautiful than the brilliant aurora or the gorgeous sunsets that glorify the skies of this land of awful desolation where you existed? Did you see the light of the Eternal City shining through its gates when they were opened to receive you?"

As though in answer to Shad's question the last rays of the setting sun dropped through the open top of the lodge and rested upon the upturned face of the dead Indian maiden in a bright, illuminating glow.

"Manikawan, you sacrificed your life to duty and to human sympathy. You died a Christ-like death, and your sacrifice shall not be wasted. Your body is dead, but your spirit still lives.

"So long as the breath of life is in me, Manikawan, I shall never forget your example of patience and encouragement and self-effacement. It has built for me new ideals. It has taught me that there are other things to live for than the mere attainment of pleasure and the gratification of selfish desires.

"You were an Indian, Manikawan, and the world would have called you a pagan and a savage. But you have pointed out to me the way to a nobler and better life."

Shad arose and resumed his seat. He had spoken in a voice of tense earnestness, and for a little while all sat in awed silence. Then Ed Matheson began to sing, and the others joined him:

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee."

With the last notes of the grand old hymn they all knelt, while big Dick Blake, in a voice shaken with emotion, offered a short but fervent prayer.

Manikawan's body was wrapped tightly in deerskin robes, and in the darkening twilight of the cold winter evening it was reverently borne to the newly erected platform among the spruce trees. Here it was to lie exposed to winds and storms, but beyond the reach of marauding animals, until the next summer's sun should warm and soften the earth sufficiently to permit Mookoomahn and the trappers to dig a grave and lay it in its final resting-place.



XXVIII

TROWBRIDGE AND GRAY, TRADERS

At the end of a week, when the supply of provisions which the trappers had brought with them was running low, Shad suggested that he was quite able to make the journey to the river tilt. His knee was now so far improved that it caused him but slight inconvenience to walk, and he was rapidly regaining strength.

He was anxious indeed to return to the tilt. He thought of it much as one thinks of home; and the thought carried with it visions of rest and comfort. The others could ill afford a longer absence from their trails, and it was therefore with a sense of deep satisfaction to all that the camp on the shore of the Great Lake was broken.

Travelling slowly, with Shad following in the well-packed trail which the others made, they arrived at their destination on an afternoon five days later, and were welcomed by Bill Campbell and Mookoomahn.

How deeply or how lightly Mookoomahn felt when he learned of Manikawan's death, none knew. He listened in stoical silence while Bob related to him in detail the circumstances of her going and the subsequent happenings in the lodge and in the camp at the Great Lake; but throughout the recital Mookoomahn made no comments, and his countenance betrayed nothing of his sensations.

Mookoomahn was recovering rapidly. He was passing, indeed, quite beyond Bill Campbell's control; and not satisfied now with the limited portions of food which Bill, religiously adhering to the advice he had received from Dick Blake and Ed Matheson, doled out to him, he had the day before the return of the travellers stolen away to the willows along the river bank below the tilt, killed some ptarmigans on his own account, and gorged himself upon the flesh to his temporary satisfaction; but nature balanced her account with him in the hours of subsequent agony which he suffered for his indiscretion.

Fully a month elapsed after their return before Shad could eat a meal with any assurance that it would not be followed by distress. His normal appetite, however, had begun to return before they broke camp on the Great Lake, and had quickly developed into a highly abnormal appetite.

No sooner was one meal finished than his mind was centred upon the next. At night his last thought was his next morning's breakfast, and when he awoke breakfast was still on his mind. Eating during this period of recuperation was to him the all-important object in life.

It was nearly a month after his return to the river tilt that Shad first learned of Bob's loss of fortune. It was upon the occasion of the fortnightly rendezvous, when Ed Matheson remarked:

"Th' next round's about th' last we can make. Th' fur's 'most too poor t' take, now, an' when I comes back I'll strike up my traps. An' it's been a wonderful poor hunt."

"Aye, wonderful poor, an' wonderful disappointin'," sighed Bob.

"Th' worst I ever see," continued Ed. "If 'tweren't for you, Bob, clearin' Dick's an' my old debts, we'd be in a bad way gettin' next fall's debt from th' Company. An' now your losin' all your money, th' bad furrin' comes hard on you—wonderful hard. I'm fearin' th' new debt we'll all have t' start off next season with'll be a big un."

"What money did you lose, Bob? I hadn't heard of it," asked Shad, as Ed passed out of the tilt to join Dick and Bill, who were cleaning the snow from the roof of the tilt in anticipation of an early thaw.

"Th' money I has in th' bank t' St. Johns," explained Bob. "When Ed comes back from th' Bay he brings me a letter from Mother sayin' th' bank broke an' th' money's gone."

"That's bad!" Shad sympathised. "How much was there?"

"About twelve thousand dollars. But 'tain't so bad. We has th' traps, an' th' new trails laid."

"But that was the capital you were to begin trading on?"

"Aye, but we'll have t' give th' tradin' up now. I'm thinkin' th' Lard weren't wantin' us t' go tradin' or t' have th' money, an' I'm not complainin', though I were wonderful disappointed when I hears of un first."

Shad asked many questions, in the course of which he drew from Bob a description of the air castles which Bob had been building, and which had been so unceremoniously knocked down about his ears by his mother's letter; of the poverty-stricken condition of the Bay folk, which Bob in his big-hearted and youthful enthusiasm had hoped to relieve; and of many other things which he had planned to do with his fortune.

Though all this was of the past, and of little importance now, he had intended to keep it a secret. But he and Shad had grown very close together, and somehow Shad had a way of drawing from him even his most sacred thoughts—and before Bob realised it he had bared his heart to his friend.

"An' I were thinkin'," said Bob, after the sum-total of his shattered plans had been disclosed, "when we was up on th' Great Lake, what a rare fine thing 'twould ha' been for th' Injuns, if I hadn't ha' lost th' money, t' make a tradin' station an' a cache o' grub up th' other end o' th' Great Lake—seventy or eighty miles in from where Manikawan dies—so when another bad year comes th' Injuns down that way could get grub t' carry un out t' th' Ungava post. If they'd been a cache there this winter, Manikawan wouldn't ha' died, an' a lot o' th' other poor Injuns as must ha' died would ha' got out."

"That's so," agreed Shad. "What an amount of suffering it would have saved! And the poor little Indian girl wouldn't have been sacrificed."

The others returned at this point, and conversation drifted into other channels—the striking up of the traps—the probability of an early break-up—the hard times that the present season's failure was certain to cause among the people of the Bay.

"Bob, if you're going to strike up and make this next trip your last one of the season, I'm going over the trail with you," said Shad, the following day. "I want to see again the trail I helped you lay, and the tilts we built together. It seems a long while ago, and the memory of it is already a pleasant one."

So on Monday morning they started on the last round of traps for the season. The days were long now, and the sun was still high when they reached the tilt on the first lake—the tilt where Manikawan had found Bob's rifle, and the first of the series of tilts Bob and Shad had built.

They cooked and ate their supper, and then lounged back upon their bunks to chat of their first exploration of the trail, their visit to the falls, and of Manikawan's unexpected appearance when they were on the island.

Finally they lapsed into silence, Shad sitting on the edge of his bunk, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his palms; Bob lying back, his hands folded under his head, his eyes studying the ceiling, but his thoughts far away with the loved ones at home and with Emily at school.

Suddenly Shad broke the silence and Bob's thoughts with the question:

"How would you like me for a partner, Bob?"

"A trappin' partner, Shad? 'Twould be fine, now!" exclaimed Bob, coming back to himself and his surroundings. "But I was thinkin' you'd be weary o' th' trails, Shad, after what you've been through."

"No, Bob, a trading partner;" and Shad sat up. "You were going into business, Bob, but your loss, you tell me, has made it impossible, because you have no capital. I'd like to be let in on your plans, for they appeal to me. Such a trading operation as you outlined to me should prove not only profitable, but at the same time would be a practical method of relieving a vast amount of suffering. It would give the Bay people independence and bring them a good many comforts of life they've never enjoyed.

"And if your suggestion were carried out to establish two or three trading stations with provision caches attached, up here in the Indian hunting country, there could be no repetition of this year's horrible experience.

"Now, Bob, you know the people and their needs, and you're an expert in judging furs, but you haven't the funds to carry out your plan. I don't know much about these things, but I have the funds. Let's come together—your experience and knowledge against my cash—and form a partnership. What do you say?"

"Oh, Shad! 'Twould be—'twould be th' grandest thing in th' world, Shad!" and Bob's face flushed with excitement; and then, suddenly, he continued: "But I couldn't do it, Shad. 'Twouldn't be fair for me t' be partners, for I hasn't any money t' put in for a share."

"Don't be foolish, now, Bob. Don't talk nonsense. Money without a knowledge of the people and their needs isn't enough. I haven't the knowledge, and I'd make a failure of it alone. But with your knowledge and my money we'd be successful.

"You've said a good many times that things don't happen by chance, but are brought about by the direction of the Lord; haven't you, Bob?" asked Shad.

"Aye, 'tis th' Lard brings things t' happen," admitted Bob.

"Now, Bob, listen to me. I came here in the first place just to enjoy a pleasant summer's outing. Pleasure and good times were all I ever thought of, and I knew nothing of life or life's higher motives. I doubt if I could have earned my own bread if I had been turned loose in the world empty-handed, because I hadn't the power or patience to stick to a thing or to face discouraging conditions for any length of time.

"I did not know the meaning of the word toil; I did not know what privation meant, or the suffering that comes through privation. I had always had whatsoever my fancy craved, and had never known want or disappointment.

"Here in your country, Bob, I have experienced toil. I have been tried out in the furnace fire of physical suffering and mental agony, and I have learned what sympathy means.

"I am living to-day only because Manikawan, an Indian girl, made it possible by the sacrifice of her own life for me to live. I'd have given up and thrown myself down in the snow to die a hundred times but for the encouragement she gave me to keep going, for I was constantly possessed of a desire to seek the rest and peace of death. And those poor Indians shared with me, Bob, the little they had, when they might easily have left me to perish.

"Do you know, Bob, there has not been a night since she died that I have not dreamed of Manikawan? She seems to say to me: 'I gave my life for yours. Go forth and make your life useful—offer a helping hand to others. It is in your power to guard my people from starvation.' So, Bob, I've got to do it if I am ever to have peace of mind, and you've got to help me.

"Do you think that these things just happened, Bob? Or were they brought about by Divine direction? Don't you think that this combination of incidents points out to us our life work? Don't you think they suggest that we are to unite our talents and so use them that we shall not only help ourselves but help others? Come, Bob, what do you say?"

For a moment Bob did not speak, and when he did his voice betrayed deep emotion.

"Th' way you puts un, Shad, I'm thinkin', now, you'm right. 'Tis th' Lard's way o' bringin' things about. You'm wonderful good, Shad, t' think o' me for a partner, an' I'll be wonderful proud t' be partners with you, Shad."

"That's the way to talk, old man!" exclaimed Shad, grasping Bob's hand.

"I'm not knowin' how t' thank you, Shad," replied Bob, his heart overflowing.

"That feeling is reciprocated, Bob, so we won't either of us thank the other. Now we've agreed to our partnership, we'll have plenty of time to arrange the details of our business before we go to the Bay, and then I think you'll have to make a trip to St. Johns or Boston with me to have the co-partnership agreement drawn and executed in proper legal form."

Shad explained to Bob that at the time of his birth his grandfather set aside one hundred thousand dollars to be held in trust for his benefit. It was provided that the income of this trust fund was to be paid to his guardian annually, upon his birthday, to be applied to his immediate needs, or to constitute an annual allowance of spending money, until he attained his majority, when he was to receive the principal.

"But I've never spent any of Grandfather's allowance," said Shad. "Father got me everything I needed and kept me supplied with spending money, and every year when the income from the trust fund came in Father bought government bonds with it and placed the bonds in a safety deposit vault for me.

"These bonds amount to more than the principal of the trust fund now—I don't know just how much, but I know there's considerably more than one hundred thousand dollars, for they have been earning interest all these years.

"This money is mine to use as I see fit, and I'm going to invest one hundred thousand dollars of it in our partnership and hold the balance as a reserve. Of course my sister will have to act for me until I'm of age. She's ten years older than I am, and has been my guardian since Father died. She'll not object, for she has a great deal of confidence in my judgment.

"When Father died, nearly three years ago, he left me a snug fortune, and I have plenty to live on even if our trading venture doesn't prove a money-making business at first."

"'Tis a wonderful lot o' money!" declared Bob. "More'n I can think!"

"We'll need a pretty fair capital to succeed," said Shad. "We'll have to purchase a vessel of some sort to carry on trade along the outer coast, and bring our supplies to the Bay, and carry to market our furs, fish, and oil. You'll look after the native trade, with the men you employ to help you, but I'll have to engage expert assistance in purchasing the trading goods and disposing of the products to the best advantage until I finish college and learn my end of the business. All will cost money, though I hope when we once get started we'll build up a trade that will warrant it."

Bob went to his bunk that night with his head all awhirl. The amount of capital which Shad proposed to put into their partnership, and the extensive business which he proposed to build up, were too big and too wonderful for Bob to comprehend all at once.

A substantial structure had indeed taken the place of his tumbled air castles, though it was long before he could bring himself to realise that this structure was not, after all, another and greater air castle than those which had been destroyed.



XXIX

THE FRUIT OF MANIKAWAN'S SACRIFICE

At length the break-up came, much as it always comes in that country. The sun, grown strong and bold, vanquished the Spirit of Frost. The snow became a sea of slush, and water covered the ice of lakes and river. Finally the clouds opened, and for a week rain fell in a deluge.

A thousand new streams sprang into being, rushing in white torrents to join the swollen river. Cascades fell from every ledge and parapet. Now and again a great boulder was loosened and went crashing down a hillside with terrifying roar. The river, freed from its ice shackles, overflowed its banks, and in the wild, unrestrained ardour of its new power uprooted trees and washed them away upon its turbulent bosom as it dashed madly seaward.

One day, when the rain had ceased and the waters had somewhat subsided, Ungava Bob and Shad Trowbridge, accompanied by Mookoomahn, turned northward in Shad's canoe to the Great Lake, following the route which Manikawan had taken several months before in her journey to the river tilt.

Manikawan's body was found as they had left it, and undisturbed. It was lowered from its rude platform, and they laid it in its final resting-place in a grave among the spruce trees not far from her father's lodge. Over the grave a cairn of boulders was raised, and surmounted by a tablet of wood upon which was carved simply the word "MANIKAWAN."

Then they parted, Mookoomahn to turn northward in his long and lonely journey to join his people, Bob and Shad to return to the river tilt, and homeward.

It was on an afternoon late in June when the browned and weather-beaten voyageurs turned their boat into Wolf Bight. What a long, long time had elapsed, it seemed to Shad, since that foggy morning in August when they had left the little cabin and said farewell to the tearful group upon the shore; and how homelike and restful the cabin looked now! What an age of experience had passed since that night when Bob pulled him out of the Bay, and introduced him, shivering and wet, to its hospitable shelter and warmth.

As they approached the shore a glad shout was heard, and a moment later Emily—who had that very day reached home from St. Johns—and Bessie, who was there to meet her, came running to the landing, with Mrs. Gray and Richard and Douglas Campbell at their heels.

Emily laughed and cried with delight, quite smothering Bob with kisses, and when she relinquished him to her mother she kissed each of the other brown faces. Bob was quite impartial, and when his mother released him Bessie was not forgotten in his greeting.

The most important, and therefore the first piece of news to be imparted, was the partnership agreement between Shad and Bob. Douglas at once prophesied success, and when, a fortnight later, Bob and Richard took passage with Shad to St. Johns, Douglas accompanied them as expert adviser in the selection of a trading vessel and the necessary supplies for their posts.

* * * * *

The firm of Trowbridge and Gray began operations with the establishment of stations in the interior, as originally designed. Dick Blake was engaged to take charge of the post at the northerly end of the Great Lake, where he quickly built up a large and lucrative trade with both Nascaupee and Mountaineer Indians.

The river tilt was enlarged, and became a trading station and supply base for the interior, over which Ed Matheson presided.

Bill Campbell, during the open season of navigation, had command of the brigades of Indians employed to transport goods from Wolf Bight to the interior posts, and during the midwinter months conducted a sub-post and storehouse situated at the southerly end of the Great Lake, not far from Manikawan's grave.

With the interior trade in such able hands, Ungava Bob devoted his attention to the Bay trade, and it is needless to say that the trappers of the region prospered.

Richard, in command of the trim schooner "Manikawan," also opened a profitable trade with livyeres and Eskimos of the coast.

Shad Trowbridge, after graduation from college, quickly developed into an able business man, and personally attended to the purchase of supplies and the sale of products.

Trowbridge and Gray made mistakes, as was to be expected, and had their ups and downs, but in the end they succeeded, and the firm is known to-day from Boston to Hudson's Straits as one of the most honourable and substantial concerns in the North.

At the very beginning of their career Shad and Bob adopted as their trademark the picture of an Indian maiden with bow raised and arrow poised ready for its flight, and beneath it the word "Manikawan." With this constantly before them Shad declared they could never stray from the original object of their enterprise, and could never forget the lesson taught by Manikawan's heroic sacrifice. And never since the firm began business have Manikawan's people failed to receive relief in times of need, and never has there been a repetition of the awful year of starvation.

"'Tis wonderfully strange, Bessie, how things come about," Bob sometimes says to his wife, in their cosy home at St. Johns. "I used to think the Lord had forgotten me sometimes, but I always found later that those were the times He was nearest to me."

"The Lord has always been very close to you, Bob," Bessie invariably replies.

Emily, at the earnest solicitation of Shad, was permitted to finish her education in Boston under the chaperonage of Shad's sister, and developed into a charming and accomplished woman, though she never lost her love for the little cabin at Wolf Bight.

But the failures and successes of Trowbridge and Gray, and the experiences of Emily in the new and greater world which she entered, are stories by themselves, and each would require a volume to relate.



THE END



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY BOY SCOUT EDITION

The books in this library have been proven by nation-wide canvass to be the one most universally in demand by the boys themselves. Originally published in more expensive editions only they are now re-issued at a lower price so that all boys may have the advantage of reading and owning them. It is the only series of books published under the control of this great organization, whose sole object is the welfare and happiness of the boy himself.

Adventures in Beaver Stream Camp, Major A. R. Dugmore Along the Mohawk Trail, Percy Keese Fitzhugh Animal Heroes, Ernest Thompson Seton Baby Elton, Quarter-Back, Leslie W. Quirk Bartley, Freshman Pitcher, William Heyliger Billy Topsail with Doctor Lake of the Labrador, Norman Duncan The Biography of a Grizzly, Ernest Thompson Seton The Boy Scouts of Black Eagle Patrol, Leslie W. Quirk The Boy Scouts of Bob's Hill, Charles Pierce Burton Brown Wolf and Other Stories, Jack London Buccaneers and Pirates of Our Coasts, Frank R. Stockton The Call of the Wild, Jack London Cattle Ranch to College, R. Doubleday College Years, Ralph D. Paine Cruise of the Cachalot, Frank T. Bollen The Cruise of the Dazzler, Jack London Don Strong, Patrol Leader, William Heyliger Don Strong of the Wolf Patrol. William Heyliger For the Honor of the School, Ralph Henry Barbour The Gaunt Gray Wolf, Dillon Wallace Grit-a-Plenty, Dillon Wallace The Half-Back, Ralph Henry Barbour The Horsemen of the Plains, Joseph A. Altsheler Jim Davis, John Masefield Kidnapped, Robert Louis Stevenson Last of the Chiefs, Joseph A. Altsheler The Last of the Mohicans, James Fenimore Cooper Last of the Plainsmen, Zane Grey Lone Bull's Mistake, J. W. Shultz Ranche on the Oxhide, Henry Inman The Ransom of Red Chief and O. Henry Other Stories for Boys, Edited by F. K. Mathiews Scouting With Daniel Boone, Everett T. Tomlinson Scouting With Kit Carson, Everett T. Tomlinson Through College on Nothing a Year, Christian Gauss Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Jules Verne Under Boy Scout Colors, J. B. Ames Ungava Bob, Dillon Wallace

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK



THE TOM SLADE BOOKS By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH Author of "Roy Blakeley," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc. Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

"Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade," is a suggestion which thousands of parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOM SLADE BOOKS are the most popular boys' books published today. They take Tom Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through his tenderfoot days as a scout, through his gallant days as an American doughboy in France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground at Black Lake, and so on.

TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE TOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAIL TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN TOM SLADE: FOREST RANGER TOM SLADE IN THE NORTH WOODS

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK



THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH Author of "Tom Slade," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc. Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the very essence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is a member, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the first book before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing to part with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.

ROY BLAKELEY ROY BLAKELEY'S ADVENTURES IN CAMP ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER ROY BLAKELEY'S CAMP ON WHEELS ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL ROY BLAKELEY'S MOTOR CARAVAN ROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN ROY BLAKELEY'S BEE-LINE HIKE ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP ROY BLAKELEY'S FUNNY BONE HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S TANGLED TRAIL ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL ROY BLAKELEY'S ELASTIC HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S ROUNDABOUT HIKE

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK



THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH Author of "Tom Slade," "Roy Blakeley," "Westy Martin," Etc. Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his size (what there is a it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice, his clothe his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims. Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled, circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where he failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded in a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.

PEE-WEE HARRIS PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT PEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBORO PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD PEE-WEE HARRIS: MAYOR FOR A DAY PEE-WEE HARRIS AND THE SUNKEN TREASURE

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

THE END