EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 81 



"What an infernal old bloke you must be," he said, "to do 

 the like o' that. Why, the railway is the poor man's road," 

 and then that sailor chap he up and explained to me all 

 about en, so I'se all for the railway.' ' But, Charley,' I 

 said, ' did I not explain all this to you over and over again ? 

 Did I not tell you all the work it would give the people, 

 how it would bring all the goods to your doors, and quick 

 passages in and out to town ? ' He hung his head in 

 confusion for some time. At last he took a sly glance up 

 at me : ' Yes, J udge, but ive knowed you was paid for sayin 

 dem tings.' " 



On the morning of 7th September I found myself at 

 Glenwood, a small wayside station in the east-central portion 

 of Newfoundland, and here I met Little Bob Saunders, his 

 friend Alexander Butt, commonly called " Sandy," and all 

 the paraphernalia of canoes and provisions. 



A word is perhaps necessary to introduce "Sandy" Butt, 

 as he enters these pages for the first time. He was a strong, 

 dark, loose-jointed fellow, standing about six feet high, whose 

 face bore a chronic expression of supercilious amusement. 

 Nearly everything in this world was to him something in 

 the nature of a joke ; whether it was building camp in the 

 dark or nearly chopping his foot off with the axe, which he 

 did one day, it was all the same to him, and a good subject 

 for whistling. A twinkle never left his eyes, and, like most 

 Newfoundlanders, he was hard-working and good-natured, and 

 never swore, for which I was grateful to him. He came 

 with me ostensibly as "cook," altogether a mistaken raiso7i 

 d'etre, for after the first day on which he made some bread, 

 I lived exclusively on wheatmeal biscuits. Sandy was not 

 the least disconcerted at this insult to his calling, but only 



