up his traps,
and resume his journey.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

A SAD DISCOVERY.

A wreck on a rocky shore is at all times a dreary sight, but especially
so when the shore is that of an uninhabited land, and when the rocks as
well as the wreck are fringed with snow-wreaths and cumbered with ice.

Some such thoughts probably filled the mind of the trapper when, on the
afternoon of the day whose dawn we have mentioned, he stood beside the
wreck of what had once been a full-rigged ship and gazed intently on the
scene of desolation.

Life and death were powerfully suggested to him. Many a time had he
seen such a craft breasting the waves of the broad Saint Lawrence, when
every dip of the bow, every bend of the taper masts, every rattle of the
ropes, and every mellow shout of the seamen, told of vigorous life and
energy; and now, the broken masts and yards tipped and fringed with
snow-wreaths, the shattered stern, out of which the cargo had been
evidently washed long ago, the decks crushed down with snow, the bulged
sides, the bottom pierced by rocks, the bowsprit burst to shivers by the
opposing cliff, the pendant and motionless cordage, even the slight
ripple of the sleeping sea, which deepened rather than broke the
prevailing silence, all told eloquently of death,--death, perchance to
passengers and crew, at all events to sanguine hopes and prospects.
Nevertheless there was much life connected with that death-like scene,
as the sequel of our tale will show.

The trapper, although fond of moralising, was not prone to indulge in
sentiment when circumstances called him to action. He had come suddenly
in sight of the wreck on turning the point of the frowning cliff where
the gallant ship had met her doom, and stood only for a few seconds to
gaze sadly on the scene.

Hastening forward he proceeded at once to make a thorough survey of the
vessel.

First he went to the stern to ascertain, if possible, her name. The
greater part of the stern had, as we have said, been torn away; but,
after careful search, he discovered a piece of wood on which he could
plainly trace portions of the letters _B_ and _E_ and _T_. The
remainder of the word, whatever it was, had been completely erased.

Bellew did not at first climb on board the ship, because from her
general aspect he knew full well that there could be no survivor in her,
besides, through the yawning stern he could see nearly the whole of the
interior.

His next step was