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Wallace, Dillon, 1863-1939

"Bobby of the Labrador"

He arose upon his elbow and listened. The tempest had passed.
He sprang up, and drawing on his _netsek_ and moccasins, for these were
the only garments he had removed upon lying down, he went out and looked
about him. The stars were shining brilliantly, and an occasional gust of
wind was the only reminder of the storm. Mounds of snow marked the place
where the dogs were sleeping, covered by the drift. The morning was
bitterly cold.
He ran down to the ice edge, and gazed eagerly seaward, but nowhere
could he see the ice pack. It had vanished utterly.
A sense of awful loneliness fell upon Skipper Ed. Reluctantly he
returned to the _igloo_ and prepared his breakfast, which he ate
sparingly. Then until day broke he sat pondering the situation. There
was nothing he could do, and he decided at length to return at once to
Abel Zachariah's, and report the calamity.
When he emerged again from the _igloo_ the last breath of the storm had
ceased to blow and a dead calm prevailed. He loaded the _komatik_, and
calling the dogs from beneath their coverlets of snow, harnessed them,
and without delay set out for the head of Abel's Bay.
It was long after dark when the dogs, straining at their traces and
yelping, rushed in through the ice hummocks below Abel's cabin. The
cabin was dark, but a light flashed in the window as the sledge ascended
the incline. Abel and Mrs. Abel had heard the approach, and when the
sledge came to a stop before the door they were there to give welcome
and greetings.


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