“Aye, aye, Eskimo Bay.  ‘Tis a lang way ye are from Eskimo Bay!  Th’ ship folk tell o’ Eskimo Bay a many hundred miles t’ th’ suthard.  An’ Jamie an’ me be a lang way fra’ Petherhead.  Be helpin’ yesel’ now, lad.  Ha’ some partridge an’ ye maun be starvin’ for bread, eatin’ only th’ grub o’ th’ heathen Injuns this lang while,” said he, passing the plate, and adding in apology, “‘Tis na’ such bread as we ha’ in auld Scotland.  Injun women canna make bread wi’ th’ Scotch lassies an’ we ne’er ha’ a bit o’ oatmeal or oat-cake.  ‘Tis bread, though.  An’ how could ye live wi’ th’ Injuns?  ‘Tis bad enough t’ bide here wi’ na’ neighbours but th’ greasy huskies an’ durty Injuns comin’ now an’ again, but we has some civilized grub t’ eat—­sugar an’ molasses an’ butter, such as ’tis.”

Sandy and Jamie plied Bob with all sorts of questions about Eskimo Bay and his life with the Indians, and they did not fail to tell him a good deal about Peterhead, their Scotland home, and both bewailed loudly the foolish desire for adventure that had induced them to leave it to be exiled in Ungava amongst the heathen Eskimos and Indians in a land where “nine minths o’ th’ year be winter an’ th’ ither three remainin’ minths infested wi’ th’ worst plagues o’ Egypt, referrin’ t’ th’ flies an’ nippers (mosquitoes).”

Strange and new it all was, and while he ate and talked, Bob took in his surroundings.  The room was not unlike the Post kitchen at Eskimo Bay, though not so spotlessly clean.  Besides the table there were two benches, four rough, home-made chairs and a big box stove that crackled cheerily.  At one side three bunks were built against the wall and were spread with heavy woollen blankets.  Two chests stood near the bunks and several guns rested upon pegs against the wall.  Upon ropes stretched above the stove numerous duffel socks and mittens hung to dry.  The Indian woman passed in and out through a passageway that led from the side of the room opposite the door at which he had entered and her kitchen was evidently on the other side of the passageway.

Bob did not forget his resolution as to the bread, to which was added the luxury of butter, and more than once the Indian woman had to replenish the plate.  When they arose from the table Jamie pointed out to Bob the bunk that he was to occupy.  Then, while they smoked their pipes, they gossiped about the Post doings until the bell warned them that it was time to return to their work.

In accordance with Mr. MacPherson’s instructions Bob walked over to the factor’s office where he found a young man of eighteen or nineteen years of age writing at one of the desks.

“Sit down,” said he, looking up.  “Mr. MacPherson will be in shortly.  You’re the young fellow just arrived, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir,” said Bob.

“You’ve had a long journey, I hear, and must be glad to get out.  When did you leave home?”

“In September, sir, when I goes t’ my trail.”