In accordance with the suggestion Doctor Joe turned the boat inside
the island, and there, on the mainland in the edge of a little
clearing and not a hundred yards distant, stood Lem Horn's cabin. It
was a secluded and peculiarly lonely spot, hidden by the island from
the few boats that plied the Bay. Here lived Lem Horn and his wife and
two sons, Eli, a young man of twenty-one years, and Mark, nineteen
years of age.

"There's no smoke," observed Jamie.

"Maybe they're all down to Fort Pelican getting their winter outfit,"
suggested David.

"There seems to be no one about but the dogs," said Doctor Joe, as he
stepped ashore with the painter and made it fast, while Lem's big
sledge dogs, lolling in the sun, watched them curiously.

Visitors do not knock in Labrador. The cabins are always open to
travellers whether or not the host is at home. Andy was in advance,
and opening the door he stopped on the threshold with an exclamation
of horror.

Stretched upon the floor lay Lem Horn, his face and hair smeared with
blood, and on the floor near him was a small pool of blood. A chair
was overturned, and Lem's legs were tangled in a fish-net.

Doctor Joe leaned over the prostrate figure.

"Shot," said he, "and from behind!"