Breakfast was eaten early, and long before daylight, which in that latitude does not come at this season until nearly ten o’clock.  Toby and Charley brought the komatik box into the cabin that Mrs. Twig might pack it for them.

In a cotton bag as a protection, the precious marten pelts were stored in the bottom of the box.  Then came the provisions consisting of hardtack, which would not freeze as would ordinary bread, tea, a bottle of molasses, a liberal quantity of salt pork, and the necessary cooking utensils.  As a precaution in case of accident some extra duffle socks, and an extra pair of buckskin moccasins were included for each, and Toby added some cartridges for his rifle.

The box packed, it was lashed upon the rear of the komatik, and on the floor of the sledge, in front of the box, Toby spread an untanned caribou skin, and upon it lashed their sleeping bags, securing his rifle and an ax under the lashings, and tying to them his own and Charley’s snowshoes.

“Look out for bad ice, and be wonderful careful on the ballicaders," cautioned Mrs. Twig, as Toby broke the komatik loose and the dogs dashed away down the decline to the bay ice.

A big full moon lighted the ice, which stretched before them for miles in an unbroken white sheet.  Rime filled the air, and soon their clothing was coated with a film of frost.  In the silvery moonlight they passed the black cliff of the Duck’s Head.  They were well down the bay when daylight came, and at last the sun rose, and its glorious rays set the rime-filled air shimmering like a veil of silver.

An hour before noon they reached Pinch-In Tickle, and stopped in the cabin to boil the kettle and eat a hasty luncheon.  What memories it revived of the day when Charley first entered the door with Toby, and was first greeted by Skipper Zeb!  How miserable a place in which to live Charley thought it then!  How alone and deserted he felt!  Now it appealed to him as not uncomfortable, and here he had found friends and a welcome; and the thought came to him that when the time to leave The Labrador came he would feel equally as badly at the leaving as he had at the entry.

Upon investigation, the ice in the tickle proved unsafe, and in the center there was some open water, where the tide surging in and out of the narrow passage had not permitted it to freeze.

In order, therefore, to reach the sea ice outside, it proved necessary to cross the low ridge of hills to the eastward of the cabin, which Charley and Toby had climbed on the day that the mail boat deserted Charley.

The ridge was bare of trees, and there was a hard coating of icy snow upon its rocky surface.  From the cabins to the summit the slope was gradual, and with some help over the steeper places, the dogs hauled the komatik to the summit with little difficulty.

The descent to the sea ice on the opposite side was much more abrupt.  Immediately it was begun, the komatik began to coast, and Toby threw a ring of braided walrus hide over the front end of one of the runners.  This “drag,” as he called it, was three feet in diameter and as thick as his wrist.  The lower side of the ring, dragging back under the runner, was forced into the hard snow, and thus served to retard the komatik, but even then it gathered such speed that the dogs were forced to turn aside, lest it should run them down, and to race with it as fast as they could run.  Toby threw himself upon his side upon the komatik, clinging to it with both hands, and sticking his heels into the snow at the side and in front of him, and running with the komatik at the same time, put forth all his strength to hold it back.

This is exceedingly dangerous work, as Charley realized.  A single misstep might result in a broken leg, and even worse injury, and Charley held his breath in expectation that some such catastrophe would surely happen before they reached the bottom.

Once a dog’s trace caught over a rock.  The dog was sent sprawling, and Charley expected that the speeding komatik would strike and crush the helpless animal.  But fortunately the trace slipped over the top of the rock just in time for the dog to escape, and in a moment it was on its feet again, racing with its companions.

They had covered two-thirds of the descent, when to their horror the boys saw a ribbon of black water, several yards in width, separating the shore from the sea ice.  They were dashing directly toward it at tremendous speed, and Charley was sure that they could not avoid a plunge into its cold depths.

“Roll off!” Toby shouted.

Charley rolled clear of the speeding komatik, pitching over and over, and finally sliding to a stop, dazed and bewildered, but in time to see the komatik, bottom up, at the very brink of the chasm.  Toby was sprawling just above it.  The dogs, with traces taut, stood above him bracing themselves to hold the sledge from slipping farther.

“Oh!” cried Charley running down to Toby, who was up and righting the komatik before he could reach him, “I was sure we were going over!”

“We were wonderful close to un!” said Toby.  “When you drops off, I jerks the front of the komatik and that makes she turn over and roll, and when I does un the dogs stops and holds fast.  If ’tweren’t for that we’d sure gone into the water and liker’n not been drowned.”

“What’ll we do now?” asked Charley.  “We can’t reach the sea ice.”

“Follow the ballicaders,” said Toby, indicating a narrow strip of ice hanging to the shore above the water. “’Twere careless of me not to think of the open water.  This early in winter ’tis always like this above and below the tickle.”

For nearly an hour they traveled upon the ice barricade.  Sometimes it was so narrow that Charley’s heart was in his mouth in fear that the komatik would slip over the brink.  But Toby was a good driver, and at last they came in safety to the end of the water, with the ocean solidly frozen as far as they could see.

Here they turned upon the sea ice, and presently left the shore behind them to cross a wide bay.  The sun was setting, and they were approaching land on the opposite shore of the bay, when Toby remarked: 

“We’re most there.  Deer Harbour’s just around that p’int you sees ahead.”

Just before dusk they drove up to the little log house and trading store of Skipper Cyrus Blink, and glad enough they were to be met at the door by Skipper Blink, who greeted them most heartily, and helped them to unharness their dogs and unpack their komatik, and when they had fed the dogs ushered them into the warm cabin, where Mrs. Blink, who had seen them coming, had a pot of hot tea ready to pour and a “snack” to eat to “stay their stummiks” till supper would be ready.

Skipper Blink’s store, or “shop” as he called it, was in a small room adjoining the living-room.  It was a most primitive emporium of a most primitive frontier.  Its stock of goods was limited to the necessities of the people, and consisted chiefly of flour, pork, molasses, duffle, practical clothing, arms and ammunition, with a pail of “sweets,” or hard candies that at some remote date might have laid claim to being “fresh.”  It was a small branch shop of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s establishment known as the “Post” at Snow Inlet, some twenty miles to the northward, and Skipper Blink received from the Company a commission upon the trade which he did.

Charley could scarcely restrain his eagerness to hold in his hands the new rifle which he was to purchase, and when he and Toby had finished their “snack,” he asked: 

“Have you any guns for sale?”

“Aye,” said the Skipper, “I has three shotguns in the shop and three rifles.  What kind now would you be wantin’?”

“A rifle,” said Charley.  “Do you think I might see it now?”

“You can see un,” answered the Skipper obligingly.  “I’ll fetch un right in here where ’tis warm.  I has a forty-four carbine, a forty-five rifle and a thirty rifle.  The forty-five would be a bit heavy for you.  The forty-four is fine and light, and so is the thirty, and that’s a wonderful far shootin’ and strong shootin’ gun, but the ca’tridges comes high.”

“Thank you,” said Charley, “I’d like to look at the rifles.”

Accordingly Skipper Cy lighted a candle, and passed through the door leading to the shop, presently to return with the three rifles.

“Now here be the forty-four,” said he, presenting the carbine for inspection. “’Tis a wonderful light fine gun for a lad.”

“It’s just like yours, isn’t it, Toby?” Charley asked.

“Aye,” said Toby, “the one I has is a forty-four carbine, just like this un.”

“’Tis a fine rifle for any shootin’,” explained Skipper Blink. “’Tis strong enough for deer or bear, if you hits un right, and ’tis fine for pa’tridges if you shoots un in the head.  I finds un fine to hunt with, and ’tis not so costive as the others.”

“Let me see the forty-five,” suggested Charley.  “That looks like a big, strong gun.”

“Here ’tis now,” and Skipper Blink handed it to Charley. “’Tis a wonderful sight stronger shootin’ gun than the forty-four, but ’tis a bit too heavy for a lad like you to pack.  ’Twould make for weariness, packin’ she all day.”

“It is heavy,” agreed Charley, returning it to Skipper Blink, and eyeing the thirty caliber.  “May I see the other one?”

“Aye, and there ’tis now.  She’s the best, and I keeps she for the last,” said Skipper Blink proudly, as he delivered it into Charley’s hands. “She’s a rifle now.  She’s the best and strongest shootin’ gun I ever sees.”

“This isn’t heavy,” said Charley.  “I like it mighty well.  Try it, Toby, and see what you think of it.”

“She is fine and light,” said Toby.  “I likes un better’n the forty-four.”

“So do I, ever so much,” said Charley taking it back from Toby, and handling it caressingly.

“You knows a good gun when you sees un, lad,” flattered Skipper Blink.  “I were thinkin’ when you asks to see un that you’d be pickin’ that un, and I were sayin’ to myself, ’There’s a lad now what knows a gun, and he’ll be wantin’ the thirty.’  But ’tis the most costive of all of un.”

“I’ll take it anyhow,” agreed Charley, fondling the arm, quite sure that his happiness depended upon owning it, and recognizing it as the undoubted aristocrat of the three.

“That’s right, lad,” beamed the Skipper.  “When the bullet from that un hits a deer, you’ll be gettin’ the deer, whatever.  Let me get a bit o’ rag and wipe the grease off of she.  And we’ll take the ramrod and wipe out the barrel.  ‘Tis clogged full o’ grease, and if you shoots she without cleanin’ she out ’tis like to split she.”

When Skipper Cy had cleaned the gun to his satisfaction he handed it to Charley, with the suggestion: 

“You’ll be needin’ some ca’tridges-a hundred, whatever.”

“I’ll take a hundred and fifty,” said Charley proudly.

“They comes twenty in a box,” advised the Skipper.  “If you takes seven boxes ’twill do you.  ’Tis all I has.”

“Very well,” agreed Charley.

It was Charley’s first gun.  He fondled it and handled it, and scarce put it down until Mrs. Blink announced supper, and they sat down to an appetizing meal of bruise. Both boys were hungry, and Skipper Cy urged them to eat.

“Fill up, now,” he would say.  “Take more of un.  You lads have had a long day cruisin’, and I’m not doubtin’ you’re fair starved.”

And they ate and ate of the bruise until they could eat no more, with all the good Skipper’s urging.

When they were through Skipper Cy took them into the store, or “shop” as he called it, where Charley purchased fresh underwear for himself and for Toby to take the place of that which Toby had let him use, and Toby purchased necessities which Mrs. Twig required at home, and still there was a small balance left to Charley’s credit.

“I’d like something for Mrs. Twig,” suggested Charley.  “Have you anything you think she’d like?”

“Just the thing!  Just the thing!” and Skipper Cy produced a small woolen shawl.  “She’ll like un for her shoulders.  Mrs. Blink wears one of un, and she’s wonderful proud of un, and says ’tis a rare comfort.”

“Mother would like un wonderful well,” advised Toby, much pleased at Charley’s thoughtfulness.

“All right,” agreed Charley.  “And now I want something for Violet.”

“I has just the thing for the little maid!” Skipper Cy beamed delightedly.

Going to a chest he produced a really nice and prettily dressed little doll.

“Here’s a doll I gets at the Moravian Mission.  I gets un because ’tis a pretty trinket, but I has no use for un.  Take un to the little maid from me, and tell she I sends un to she.”

“Vi’let never has a doll in her life, but just a bit of cloth tied around a stick Mother fixes up for she and she calls a doll!” exclaimed Toby delightedly.

“It is just the thing!  But I want to pay for it,” insisted Charley.  “I want to give it to her myself.”

Finally it was agreed that Charley should pay Skipper Cy the price that he had paid the Mission folk for it, and he was perhaps quite as happy, and even more happy, with the thought of the pleasure his gifts would give Mrs. Twig and Violet than with his new rifle.

This closed Charley’s purchases, and still he found that there was a small balance due him.  This balance, he insisted, Toby should use in selecting something for himself, and Toby acquired some additional cartridges for his rifle, confessing that his supply was low, and from the pail of ancient candy a quantity of “sweets” to take home; and though the candy was hard with age, in this land where luxuries are scarce, it was hailed as a great treat.

They were up and had their breakfast before daylight, as is the custom in this country, and with daylight the boys went out to try Charley’s new rifle, which proved to be an accurate and strong shooting gun, and quite equal to Skipper Cy’s recommendation.  Charley found, indeed, that he could make a better target with it than with Toby’s rifle.  And it was well that he had taken this early opportunity to become accustomed to its mechanism, as events proved.

Shortly after sunrise they said good-bye to Skipper and Mrs. Blink, and were on their way to Pinch-In Tickle, where it was their purpose to spend the night.

When they passed out and beyond the point and the shelter of land they met a stiff southeast wind, and looking at the sky, Toby stopped the dogs.

“‘Twill be blowin’ hard before noon, and ’tis like to move the ice,” said Toby. “’Twill take two hours whatever to make land the other side.”

“What can we do?” asked Charley.  “Can we go around?”

“We’d not make un to-day,” said Toby.  “I’m thinkin’ by hurryin’ the dogs a bit we can make un.  The ice’ll not go abroad unless the wind blows a good bit stronger than ‘tis blowin’ now.”

“Hadn’t we better go back and wait until we’re sure?” asked Charley anxiously.

“If we goes back and waits we’ll not be gettin’ home to-morrow,” Toby objected.  “We promises Mother we’d be home by to-morrow night whatever.”

“Let’s take a chance at it,” said Charley.  “This wind can’t move the ice, and we can get across before it gets blowing much harder.”

“Ooisht!" called Toby, breaking the komatik loose, and away went the dogs.

“Oksuit!  Oksuit!" Toby kept calling to the dogs, snapping the whip over them and urging them ahead.

“What’s that?” It was an hour later, and Charley pointed to a great moving object a half mile seaward.

“A white bear!” exclaimed Toby, after a moment’s scrutiny.

“Can’t we get it?” Charley excitedly clutched his new rifle.

“We’ll try un!  Rahder!  Rahder!  Rahder!" Toby shouted in rapid command, as rapidly as he could speak the word.

Slowly the dogs turned to the left and toward the bear.  Suddenly a sniff of the animal came down the wind.  Immediately the dogs sprang forward in their traces, and with short, sharp yelps were in wild, unrestrained pursuit.  The komatik swayed from side to side, now on one runner, now on the other with every ice hummock it struck.

The bear did not run.  Either its dignity, its confidence in its own strength and prowess, or resentment that any should dare invade its silent domain led it to face about upon its enemies.