74 HUNTING CAMPS. 



hatful of seawater ! The birds, contrary to expectation, 

 or because hunger is so good a sauce, were much 

 appreciated, and from that time onwards until we 

 arrived at Hopedale no herring gull or blackback flew 

 into sight without drawing the eager eyes of the crew 

 of the trap-boat. 



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

 evening, 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 ot 

 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 communicate the reason of my detention to my 



