ful on that
part of the Labrador coast, but were believed to be scarce further
north.

As a result of this information the "Sea Bee" was headed more to the
eastward after the boats had again parted company, for, as White said,
there was no use wasting time running in to Blanc Sablon, Forteau, or
any of those places at which the trading steamer had touched. "It is
too bad," he continued, "for I did hope to dispose of our cargo
somewhere along here. If we could do that we might be home again
inside of ten days. Now, if we have to go far to the northward, it may
be two or three weeks longer before we again sight Blomidon."

"I am sorry for your sake," replied Cabot, "though I would just as soon
spend a month up here as not. I only wish we could land somewhere
along here, for I am curious to see what land of a country Labrador is."

This wish was gratified late that afternoon, when the fog lifted in
time to disclose the fine harbour of Red Bay, into which, White said,
they would run, so as to spend the night quietly at anchor, with both
watches turned in at once.

At Red Bay, therefore, Cabot had his first taste of life in Labrador.
The shores looked so green and attractive that he wondered why the only
settlement in sight--a collection of a dozen huts and fish houses,
should be located on a rocky islet, bare and verdureless. He asked
White, who only laughed, and said he'd find out soon enough by
experience.

After they had come to anchor and lowered the sails, White got an empty
water cask into the dinghy, saying that first of all they must go about
a mile to a trout stream at the head of the bay for some fresh water.

"Trout stream!" cited Cabot. "How I wish I had my fishing tackle.
Trout for supper would be fine."

"There are other things equally important with tackle for trout fishing
in this country," remarked White.

"What, for instance?"

"You'll know inside of half an hour," was the significant reply.

So they rowed up the bay, Cabot filled with curiosity and White
chuckling with anticipation. The further they went the more was Cabot
charmed with the beauty of the scene and the more desirous did he
become to ramble over the green slopes on which, as White assured him,
delicious berries of several varieties were plentiful. At length they
opened a charming valley, through which wound and tumbled a sparkling
brook thickly bordered by alders and birches. At one side were several
substantial log cab