Four holes were to be cut in each end of both boards, and holes to match in the bottom of the boat, and in an hour they were neatly reamed out.  When Andy removed his thongs from the water they were quite soft and pliable, and proved to be strong and tough.

Andy lashed the boards into place, threading the thongs through the holes and drawing them round the brace several times at each place where provision had been made for them.  Thus a dozen thicknesses of fibre bound the boards to the brace at each set of holes.

It was now necessary to collect the spruce gum and prepare it.  Gum was plentiful enough, and in half an hour they had collected enough to half fill the frying-pan.  To this was added a little lard, and the gum and grease melted over the fire and thoroughly mixed.

“What you puttin’ the grease in for?” asked Jamie curiously.

“So when we pours un in the cracks and she hardens she won’t be brittle and crack,” David explained.

The hot mixture was now poured into the joints between the boards and at all points where the new boards came into contact with the boat, and into the holes where the lashings occurred.  In a few minutes it hardened, and the boys surveyed their work with pride and satisfaction.

“Now we’ll try un,” said David, “and see if she leaks.”

“She’ll never leak where she’s mended,” asserted Andy.

They slipped the boat into the water and Andy’s prediction proved true.  Not a drop of water oozed through the joints, and the boat was as snug and tight and seaworthy as any boat that ever floated.

“’Tis too late to start to-night,” said David, “but we’ll be away at crack o’ dawn in the marnin’, whatever.  ’Tis fine they left the sail and oars.”

And at crack of dawn in the morning the boys were away.  The day was misty and disagreeable, but David and Andy knew the way as well as you and I know our city streets.  They rounded the Devil’s Arm, a friendly tide helped them through the narrows, and in mid-forenoon the low white buildings of Fort Pelican appeared in misty outline through the fog.  A few minutes later they swung alongside the Fort Pelican jetty, and there, to their amazement, firmly tied to the jetty, lay their own big boat.

No one about the Post could explain whence the boat had come or how it reached the jetty.  The Post servants stated that they had not noticed it until after the departure of the lumber steamer.  They had recognized it as Thomas Angus’s boat, for in that country men know each other’s boats as our country folk know their neighbours’ horses.

The lumber ship had arrived on the morning of the gale, and had anchored in the harbour awaiting the arrival of one of the company’s officers on the mail boat.  The mail boat had arrived the previous morning, and both the mail boat and lumber ship had steamed away shortly after the mail boat’s arrival.  Many lumbermen had been ashore.  If any of them had come in the boat they had mingled among the others and had departed either on the lumber ship, which had gone up the Bay to Grampus River, or on the mail boat to Newfoundland.