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The Lure of the Labrador Wild by Dillon Wallace
page 36 of 290 (12%)
world, and painfully recalling the pleasant memories of his
childhood's home and friends, and the green fields and spring
blossoms he never will know again. And Lloyd's story is the story
of perhaps the majority of the settlers on The Labrador.

The old man had a fresh-caught salmon, and we bought it from him.
We then sat for a few minutes in his cabin. This was a miserable
affair, not exceeding eight by ten feet, and, like Steve's home, so
low we could not stand erect in it. The floor was paved with
large, flat stones, and the only vent for the smoke from the
wretched fireplace was a hole in the roof. Midway between the fire
and the hole hung a trout drying. In this room Lloyd and his
Eskimo wife live out their life. During our visit the wife sat
there without uttering a word. Her silence was characteristic;
for, somewhat unlike our women, the women of Labrador talk but
little.

When we had bidden Lloyd farewell, we carried the salmon we had
obtained from him back to camp, where Hubbard tried to plank it on
a bit of wreckage picked up on the shore. It fell into the fire,
and there was great excitement until, by our united efforts, we had
rescued it, and had seen part of it safely reposing in the frying
pan, while Steve set to work boiling the remainder in our kettle
with slices of bacon. As the gale continued to blow, it was
decided that we should remain in camp until early morning. Hubbard
directed Steve to pull the boat around to a place where it would be
near the water at low tide. He and I then threw down the tent, lay
on it, pulled a blanket over us and prepared for sleep. It was
about eleven o'clock, and darkness was just beginning to fall. Out
in the bay a whale was blowing, and in the distance big gulls were
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