dian woman passed in and out through a passageway that led
from the side of the room opposite the door at which he had entered
and her kitchen was evidently on the other side of the passageway.

Bob did not forget his resolution as to the bread, to which was added
the luxury of butter, and more than once the Indian woman had to
replenish the plate. When they arose from the table Jamie pointed out
to Bob the bunk that he was to occupy. Then, while they smoked their
pipes, they gossiped about the Post doings until the bell warned them
that it was time to return to their work.

In accordance with Mr. MacPherson's instructions Bob walked over to
the factor's office where he found a young man of eighteen or nineteen
years of age writing at one of the desks.

"Sit down," said he, looking up. "Mr. MacPherson will be in shortly.
You're the young fellow just arrived, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," said Bob.

"You've had a long journey, I hear, and must be glad to get out. When
did you leave home?"

"In September, sir, when I goes t' my trail."

"I came here on the _Eric_ in September, and if you want to see home
as badly as I do you're pretty anxious to get back there. But there
isn't any chance of getting away from here till the ship comes. This
is the last place God ever made and the loneliest. What did you say
your name is?"

"Bob Gray, sir."

"Well, Mr. MacPherson will call you something else, but don't mind
that. He has a new name for every one. He calls Sishetakushin, one of
the Indians you came in with, Abraham Lincoln because he's so tall,
and one of the stout Eskimos is Grover Cleveland. That's the name of
an American president. Mr. MacPherson gets the papers every year and
keeps posted. He received, on the ship, all last year's issues of a
New York paper called the _Sun_ besides a great packet of Scotch and
English papers. But this _Sun_ he thinks more of than any of them and
every morning he picks out the paper for that date the year before and
reads it as though it had just been delivered. One year behind, but
just as fresh here. He finds a lot of new names in 'em to give the
Eskimos and Indians and the rest of us that way. I'm Secretary Bayard,
whoever he may be. I don't read the American papers much. The chief
clerk is Lord Salisbury, the new premier. You know the Conservatives
downed the Liberals, and Gladstone is out. Good enough for him, too,
for meddling in the Irish question. I'm a conservative, or I woul