"I'm thinkin' a wonderful lot of home now," said Bob. "Tell Mother an' Father, Ed, I'm safe an' thinkin' of un every day, an' of Emily, away off somewheres in St. Johns t' school. It's makin' me rare lonesome t' think o' home without Emily there. An'--an'--tell Mother, Ed--I never forgets my prayers."
"That I will, lad!" promised Ed heartily. "An' what you wantin' me t' say t' Bessie, now? Tell she about th' Injun lass an' th' fine deerskin coat she's givin' you?"
"Tell Bessie I always carries th' ca'tridge bag she gives me--an' I'm thinkin' how 'tis she that makes un--an' I'll be glad t'--get home t' th' Bay," directed Bob hesitatingly.
"Oh, aye. Glad t' get back t' see th' Bay, I'm thinkin'," laughed Ed.
As Bob and Dick returned to the tilt an hour before daybreak, after watching Ed and Bill disappear down the trail in the still, bitter cold of the starlit morning, Bob remarked:
"I'm feelin' wonderful strange--I'm not knowin' how. 'Tis a lonesomeness--but different--like as if somethin' were goin' t' happen."
"An' I has th' same sort o' feelin'," confessed Dick. "'Tis like th' stillness before a big storm breaks at sea--'tis like as if some one was dyin' clost by."
THE SPIRIT OF DEATH GROWS BOLD
When Ungava Bob was gone, Shad Trowbridge returned to the deerskin lodge to think. Now that he was alone with the Indians, he was not at all sure that he did not regret his decision to remain with them and share their uncertain fortunes.