at had to be
done about the fort, and conceived, as well as did, a good many things
that did not require to be done. While rummaging in the stores, he
discovered a hand-net, with which he waded into the sea and caught large
quantities of small fish, about four inches in length, resembling
herrings. These he salted and dried in the sun, and thus improved his
fare,--for, having only salt pork and fresh salmon, he felt the need of
a little variety. Indeed, he had already begun to get tired of salmon,
insomuch that he greatly preferred salt pork.

After that, he scraped together a sufficient number of old planks, and
built therewith a flat-bottomed boat--a vessel much wanted at the place.
But, do what he would, time hung very heavy on his hands, even although
he made as much of a companion of Teddy O'Donel, as was consistent with
his dignity. The season for wild fowl had not arrived, and he soon got
tired of going out with his gun, with the certainty of returning
empty-handed.

At last there was a brief break in the monotony of the daily life at
Fort Desolation. A band of Indians came with a good supply of furs.
They were not a very high type of human beings, had little to say, and
did not seem disposed to say it. But they wanted goods from Jack, and
Jack wanted furs from them; so their presence during the two days and
nights they stayed shed a glow of moral sunshine over the fort that made
its inhabitants as light-hearted and joyful as though some unwonted
piece of good fortune had befallen them.

When the Indians went away, however, the gloom was proportionally
deeper, Jack and his man sounded lower depths of despair than they had
ever before fathomed, and the latter began to make frequent allusions to
the possibility of making away with himself. Indeed, he did one
evening, while he and Jack stood silently on the shore together, propose
that they should go into the bush behind the fort, cover themselves over
with leaves, and perish "at wance, like the babes in the wood."

Things were in this gloomy condition, when an event occurred, which,
although not of great importance in itself, made such a deep impression
on the dwellers at Fort Desolation, that it is worthy of a chapter to
itself.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

HORRORS.

One morning the sun rose with unwonted splendour on the broad bosom of
the Saint Lawrence. The gulf was like a mirror, in which the images of
the seagulls were as perfect as the birds themsel