Down North on the Labrador

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated.1911 Excerpt: ... XII Rube Marvin's Confession IT was the very joiliest part of the whole year. Snow enough had fallen at Christmas time to fill up every inequality in the countryside, chock to the brim. All the scrub woods and bushes had disappeared, and every troublesome snag had long ago sunk out of sight under the generous white mantle of winter. A sudden thaw for a single night late in January had put a perfect surface on the snow which was already well packed down by nor'westerly gales. We had been enjoying a long three days' drive with our dogs through the finest part of the country, over the high white hills, crossing the frozen bays on the ice from one wooded island to another, threading our way along the paths cut through the spruce forests, and sweeping down the courses of rivers at a pace that made it no easy matter to avoid the unfrozen rattles and rapids, as the dogs tore along the trail like a pack of hounds in full view of their quarry, with nothing in the way to stop them. Night had overtaken us at the head of a beautiful bay where our lumber mill is situated, and the hard physical exercise of the journey had prepared us to enjoy to the full the generous hospitality of the manager's house, which was freely extended both to ourselves and our trusty dogs. The perfectly glorious sunshine which had continued steadily day after day did not yet fail us, and the simple fare at our humble hospice seemed sweeter with our rude vitality than any feast on earth. Have they got the framing of the new schooner finished yet, Walter? I inquired as we sat at breakfast. It's time they had, he answered, seeing they had all the knees and timbers ready before Christmas, and the keel and deadwood laid by New Year. I reckon there must be something wrong with Rube Marvin. He do...