76 HUNTING CAMPS. 



But all things have an end, and at length in the even- 

 ing, turning a high bluff, we saw before us the lights of 

 Hopedale, and soon heard the long ululating cry with 

 which the Eskimo announce the arrival of a strange boat. 

 Soon we tied up against the wharf and were making the 

 acquaintance of the Rev. W. W. Perrett, the house-father 

 of Hopedale Mission, and one of the most charming men 

 it would be possible to meet anywhere. While the crew 

 sought the hospitality of one of Sam's sons-in-law, Jack 

 and I went up to the mission house, where a dish of canned 

 caribou was quickly set smoking before us, and Mr. and 

 Mrs. Perrett were asking and giving news of the coast. 



The voyage to Hopedale, with its mild experiences of 

 roughing it, would have been thoroughly enjoyable but 

 for the fears which beset me concerning the arrival and 

 departure of the mail-boat, doubts which were not much 

 allayed by Sam's assurance that if I missed her I must 

 stay over the winter with him and that I should then 

 have an opportunity of shooting the finest lot of caribou 

 trophies ever taken out of the Labrador. This probably 

 might have proved true, as up to that time no one with 

 any motive beyond that of killing meat had pursued the 

 herds ; yet the prospect of an enforced residence of eight 

 months was not one to be calmly anticipated, the more 

 especially as it would have been impossible for me to com- 

 municate the reason of my detention to my relatives, or 

 indeed to Jack's, who assured me that his wife at Glover- 

 town, Bonavista Bay, would say in the words of Penelope : 



"... Either he is drowned, 

 Or else his bones lie on the mainland in the rain." 



Or, as he more prosaically put it, " I would be give up in 

 our bay for dead and eat by Eskimo on the Labrador." 



But the steamer had not arrived, nor did she put in 

 an appearance for three or four days. During the inter- 



