“Hey, there, Bob!  The boss wants you.”

This was auspicious, and Bob hurried over to the factor’s inner office, where he found Mr. MacPherson waiting for him.

“Well, Ungava Bob,” the factor greeted, “are you getting tired of Ungava and anxious to get away?”

“I’m likin’ un fine, sir, but wantin’ t’ be goin’ home wonderful bad,” answered Bob.

“I suppose you are.  I suppose you are.  I remember when I was young and first left home, how badly I wanted to go back,” he said, reminiscently.  “That was a long while ago and there’s no one for me to go home to now—­they’re all dead—­all dead—­and it’s too late.”

He was silent for a little in meditation, and seemed to have quite forgotten Bob.  Then suddenly bringing himself from the past to the present again, he continued: 

“Yes, yes, you want to go home, and I’m going to start you on Monday morning.  I’ll give you a packet of very important letters that you will deliver to Mr. Forbes, the factor at Fort Pelican, and I shall hold you responsible for their safe delivery.  Akonuk and Matuk will go with you as far as Kangeva, where they will try to get two other Eskimos with a good team of dogs to take you on to Rigolet.  But it may be they’ll have to go farther, to find drivers that know the way, and that will delay you some.  You’ll have time to reach Rigolet, however, before the break-up if you push on.  The Eskimos will lose some time visiting with their friends when they meet them on the way, and I’ve allowed for that.  Now, be ready to start on Monday.  The clerks will fix you up with what supplies you will need for the journey.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll be ready, an’ thank you, sir.”

“Hold on,” said the factor as Bob turned to go.  “Here’s a rifle that I’m going to let you take with you, for you may need it.”  He picked up a gun that had been leaning against the wall beside him.  “It’s a 44 repeating Winchester that I’ve used for three or four years, and it’s a good one.  I’ve got a heavier one now for seals and white whales, and I’ll give you this if you take the letters through safely.  Is that a bargain?”

Bob’s eyes bulged and his pleasure was manifest.

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.  I’ll not be losin’ th’ letters.”

It was the first repeating rifle—­the first rifle, in fact, of any kind—­that he had ever seen, and as Mr. MacPherson explained and illustrated to him its manipulation, he thought it the most marvellous piece of mechanism in the world.

“Now be careful how you handle it,” cautioned the factor after the arm had been thoroughly described.  “You see that when you throw a cartridge into the barrel by the lever action it cocks the gun, and if you’re not going to discharge it again immediately you must let the hammer down.  It shoots a good many times farther, too, than your old gun, so be sure there are no Eskimos within half a mile of its muzzle or you’ll be killing some of them, and I don’t want that to happen, for I need them all to hunt.  Besides, if you killed one of them his friends would be putting you out of the way so you’d kill no more, and then my packet of letters wouldn’t be delivered.  Now look out.”