"
"You are a trump, David Gidge!" exclaimed Cabot, while White gratefully
squeezed the honest fellow's hand.
"I promised to look arter 'em till you come back," said the sailorman,
simply.
At length the sealing season closed, and the prow of the "Labrador" was
turned homeward, but even now, after many an anxious discussion, our
lads were undecided as to what they should do upon landing. But a
solution of the problem came to Cabot on the day that the steamer
entered Conception Bay and anchored close off Bell Island, to await the
moving of a great ice mass that had drifted into the harbour.
"I know what we'll do!" he cried.
CHAPTER XXXI.
ASSISTANT MANAGER OF THE MAN-WOLF MINE.
As the deeply laden sealer drew near to land, Cabot had impatiently
scanned the coast of the great island that he had once thought so remote,
but which, after his long sojourn in the Labrador wilderness, now seemed
almost the same as New York itself. When the "Labrador" entered
Conception Bay, at the head of which lies Harbour Grace, her home port,
and was forced by ice to anchor, he inquired concerning a small island
that lay close at hand.
"Bell Island," he repeated meditatively, on being told its name. "Isn't
there an iron mine on it?"
"Sartain," replied David Gidge. "The whole island is mostly made of
iron."
"Then it is a place that I particularly want to visit, and I know what we
will do.
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