"I don't know, sir. I wants t' get home wonderful bad," said Bob.
"Yes, yes, I suppose you do. But you're a long way from home. It looks as though you'll have to stay here till the ship comes next summer. I can send you back with it."
"'Tis a long while t' be bidin' here, sir, an' I'm fearin' as mother'll be worryin'."
"There's no way out of it that I can see, though. I'll give you work to do to pay for your keep, and I'm afraid that's the best we can do unless," continued the factor, thoughtfully "unless you go with the mail. I find I've got to send some letters to Fort Pelican. How far is that from Eskimo Bay,—a hundred miles?"
"Ninety, sir."
"Do you speak Eskimo?"
"No, sir."
"Well, the dog drivers will be Eskimos. The men that leave here will go east to the coast. They will meet other Eskimos there who will go to Pelican. It's a hard and dangerous journey. Are you a good traveller?"
"Not so bad, sir, an' I drives dogs."
Mr. MacPherson was silent for a few moments, then he spoke.