y, huntin' gulls," she answered.

Upon inquiry it was learned that there were three boys in the family
and that they were also "somewheres handy about." A search discovered
two of them, lads of seven and eight, practically naked, but tough as
little bears, feeding upon wild berries. Their bodies were tanned
brown by sun and wind, and streaked and splotched with the blue and
red stain of berry juice. They were jabbering contentedly and both
were as plump and happy in their foraging as a pair of young cubs.

Snow had begun to fall before Doctor Grenfell followed by the two lads
returned to the fire at the cliff, soon to be joined by the boys'
father, tall, gaunt and bearded. His hair, untrimmed for many weeks,
was long and snarled. He was nearly barefooted and his clothing hung
in tatters. In one hand he carried a rusty old trade gun, (a
single-barreled, old-fashioned muzzle loading shotgun), in the other
he clutched by its wing a gull that he had recently shot. Following
the father came an older lad, perhaps fourteen years of age, little
better clothed than his two brothers and as wild and unkempt in
appearance as the father.

"Evenin'," greeted the man, as he leaned his gun against the cliff and
dropped the gull by its side.

It was cold. The now thickly falling snow spoke loudly of the Arctic
winter so near at hand. The liveyere and his family, however, seemed
not to feel or mind the chill in the least, and apparently gave no
more thought to the morrow or the coming winter, upon whose frigid
threshold they stood, than did the white-winged gulls flying low over
the water.

Fresh wood was placed upon the fire, and Grenfell and the mate joined
the family circle around the blaze.

"Do you kill much game here on the island?" asked Doctor Grenfell.

"One gull is all I gets today," announced the man. "They bides too far
out. I has no shot. I uses pebbles for shot, and 'tis hard to hit un
with pebbles. 'Tis wonderful hard to knock un down with no shot."

"What have you to eat?" inquired the Doctor. "Have you any provisions
on hand?"

"All us has is the gull," the man glanced toward the limp bird. "We
eats berries."

"'Tis the Gover'me't's place to give us things," broke in the woman in
a high key. "The Gov'me't don't give us no flour and nothin'."

"It's snowing and the berries will soon be covered," suggested
Grenfell. "You can't live without something to eat and now winter is
coming you'll need a house to live