with
caution, and soon came upon a sad sight--the dead body of a native,
beside which crouched a large black dog. At first they thought the dog
had killed the man, and were about to shoot it, when Stubbs exclaimed,
"Hold on! don't you see he must have tumbled over the cliff?"

A brief examination satisfied them that the Indian, in passing along the
top of the cliffs, had fallen over, and that the accident must have been
recent, for the body was still fresh. The dog, which appeared to be
starving, showed all its formidable teeth when they attempted to go near
its dead master. Presently Squill came up.

"Ah, boys," he said, "ye don't onderstand the natur' o' the baste--see
here."

Taking a piece of dried fish from his pocket, he went boldly forward and
presented it. The dog snapped it greedily and gulped it down. Squill
gave him another and another piece; as the fourth offering was presented
he patted the animal quietly on its head. The victory was gained. The
dog suffered them to bury its master, but for four days it refused to
leave his grave. During that time Squill fed it regularly. Then he
coaxed it to follow him, and at last it became, under the name of
Blackboy, a general favourite, and a loving member of the community.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

HAS REFERENCE TO FOOD AND A GREAT FIGHT.

There is always a certain amount of pleasure to be derived from the
tracing of any subject of interest back to its origin. We have already
seen how--like a noble river, which has its fountain-head in some
mountain lakelet that would scarcely serve as a washing-basin for a
Cyclops--the grand cod-fishing industry, which has enriched the world,
and found employment for thousands of men for centuries, had its
commencement in the crew of the _Water Wagtail_! we shall now show that
another great industry, namely, the Newfoundland seal-fishery, had its
origin in the same insignificant source.

King Grummidge was walking one morning along the shore of Wagtail Bay,
with hands in pockets, hat on back of head, and that easy roll of gait
so characteristic of nautical men and royalty. He was evidently
troubled in mind, for a frown rested on his brow, and his lips were
compressed. It might have been supposed that the cares of state were
beginning to tell upon him, but such was not the case: food was the
cause of his trouble.

"Fish, fish, fish," he growled, to Little Stubbs, who was his companion
in the walk. "I'm sick tire