There were only three figures in the boat, one of whom, by the violent gesticulations that he made as they approached, bespoke himself an Esquimau; the other two stood erect and motionless, the one by the tiller, the other by the sheet.
“Let go,” said a deep soft voice, when the boat was within a stone’s-cast of the shore.
The sheet flapped in the wind as the peak fell, and in another instant the keel grated on the sand.
For one moment a feeling of intense disappointment filled Edith’s heart as she sought in vain for the face of her father or Frank; then with a cry of joy she sprang forward and flung herself into the arms of her old enemy, Gaspard!
“Thank God!” said Dick Prince, with a tremulous voice, as he leaped lightly from the boat and clasped the child in his arms; “thank God we have found you, Miss Edith! This will put new life into your poor mother’s heart.”
“Oh! how is she? Why did she not come with you?” sobbed Edith; while Dick Prince, seating himself on a rock, drew her on his knee and stroked her fair head as she wept upon his shoulder.
Meanwhile Annatock was being nearly devoured by his wife and child and countrymen, as they crowded round him to obtain information, and to heap upon him congratulations; and Gaspard, in order to restrain, and at the same time relieve his feelings, essayed to drag the boat out of the water, in which attempt, giant though he was, being single-handed, he utterly failed.
After the first eager questions were answered on both sides, the natives were informed by their comrade of the nature and objects of the establishment at Ungava, and they exhibited the most extravagant signs of joy on hearing the news. When their excitement was calmed down a little, they conducted the party to their principal tent, and set before them the choicest viands they possessed, talking vehemently all the while, and indulging in a few antics occasionally, expressive of uncontrollable delight.
“Ye see, Miss Edith,” began Prince, when he and Gaspard were seated before a round of walrus-beef, “the way we came to know your whereabouts was this: Gaspard and me was sent down to the coast to hunt seals, for we were getting short o’ blubber, and did not like to be obleeged to give deer’s-meat to the dogs. Your father gave us the boat; ‘for,’ says he, ‘Prince, it’ll take ye down faster than the canoe with this wind; and if ye see any o’ the natives, be sure ye don’t forget to ask about her, Prince.’ Ye see, Miss Edith, ever since ye was lost we never liked to mention your name, although we often spoke of you, for we felt that we might be speakin’ o’ the dead. Hows’ever, away we went for the shores o’ the bay, and coasted along to the westward a bit. Then we landed at a place where there was a good lot o’ field-ice floatin’, with seals lyin’ on it, and we began to catch them. One day, when we was goin’ down to the ice as usual, we saw a black object sittin’ on a floe that had drifted in the night before with a stiff breeze.
“‘That’s a queer-lookin’ seal,’ says Gaspard.