Those of the Eskimos who survived the heat and unaccustomed climate, in some manner, God alone knows how, found their way to Newfoundland.  Pomiuk, in his mother’s care, was among them.  The hospitality of big hearted fishermen of Newfoundland, who sheltered and fed the Eskimos in their cabins, kept them through the winter.  It was a period of intense suffering for poor little Pomiuk, whose hip constantly grew worse.

When summer came again, Doctor Frederick Cook, the explorer, bound to the Arctic on an exploring expedition, heard of the stranded Eskimos, and carried some of them to their Labrador homes on his ship; and when the schooners of the great fishing fleets sailed north, kindly skippers made room aboard their little craft for others of the destitute Eskimos.  Thus Pomiuk, once so active and happy, now a helpless cripple, found his way back on a fishing schooner to Labrador.

We can understand, perhaps, the joy and hope with which Pomiuk looked again upon the rock-bound coast that he loved so well.  On these shores he had lived care-free and happy and full of bounding health until the deceitful white men had lured him away.  He had no doubt that once again in his own native land and among his own people in old familiar surroundings, he would soon get well and be as strong as ever he had been to run over the rocks and to help his father with the dogs and traps and at the fishing.

Pomiuk could scarcely wait to meet his father.  He laughed and chattered eagerly of the good times he and his father would have together.  He was deeply attached to his father who had always been kind and good to him, and who loved him better, even, than his mother loved him.

Pomiuk’s heart beat high, when at last, one day, the vessel drew into the narrow channel that leads between high cliffs into Nachvak Bay.  He looked up at the rocky walls towering two thousand feet above him on either side.  They were as firm and unchanging as always.  He loved them, and his eyes filled with happy tears.  Just beyond, at the other end of the channel, lay the broad bay and the white buildings of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s trading post, where his father used to bring him sometimes with the dogs in winter or in the boat in summer.  What fine times he and his father had on those excursions!  And somewhere, back there, camped in his tupek, was his father.  What a surprise his coming would be to his father!

Pomiuk was carried ashore at the Post.  Eskimos camped near-by crowded down to greet him and his mother and the other wanderers who had returned with them.  It would be a short journey now in the boat to his father’s fishing place and his own dear home in their snug tupek.  What a lot of things he had to tell his father!  And at home, with his father’s help he would soon be well and strong again.

Then he heard some one say his father was dead.  Dazed with grief he was taken to one of the Eskimo tupeks where he was to make his home.  All that day and for days afterward, days of deep, unspoken sorrow, the thought that he would never again hear his father’s dear voice was in his mind and forcing itself upon him.  The world had grown suddenly dark for the crippled boy.  All of his fine plans were vanished.