And when the great flocks of wild ducks and geese came flying out of the
North, the feathers of all that Abel shot were carefully hoarded in bags
for Bobby's winter bed.
And so the weeks passed until early October. The land was now white with
snow, and steadily increasing cold warned them that winter was at hand
and that presently the bays and sea would be frozen. It was time now for
Abel to set his fox traps, and time for them to move to their winter
cabin on the mainland.
This cabin was situated at the head of a deep bay which the Eskimos call
"Tissiuhaksoak," but which English-speaking folk called "Abel's Bay,"
because Abel was the first to build a cabin there; and we, being
English-speaking people, shall also call it Abel's Bay.
The bloody record of the tragedy had long since been washed from the
boat. From two of the six long oars with which the boat was fitted, Abel
improvised two masts. The tarpaulin was remodeled into a second sail,
and, one blustery morning, with their tent and all their belongings
stowed into the boat, and the dogs in the skiff, which was in tow, they
set sail for Abel's Bay, and left Itigailit Island and the lonely grave
to the Arctic blasts that would presently sweep down upon it from the
icy seas; and late on the following afternoon they reached the cabin
which for many years was to be Bobby's home.
Thus it was that Bobby, amid adventure and mystery, made his advent upon
The Labrador and found a home among strange people.
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