o anchor, he inquired concerning a small island
that lay close at hand.

"Bell Island," he repeated meditatively, on being told its name. "Isn't
there an iron mine on it?"

"Sartain," replied David Gidge. "The whole island is mostly made of
iron."

"Then it is a place that I particularly want to visit, and I know what we
will do. Of course, White, we can't let you go to prison, but at the
same time you haven't, immediately available, the money with which to pay
that fine. I have, though, right in St. Johns. So, if you will endorse
that New York draft to me, I will carry it into the city, deposit it at
the bank, draw out the cash, and take the first train for Harbour Grace,
so as to be there with more than enough money to pay your fine when you
arrive. After that I propose that we both go on to New York, where I am
almost certain I can get you something to do that will pay even better
than a lobster factory. If that plan strikes you as all right, and if
Mr. Gidge will set me ashore here, I'll just take a look at Bell Island
and then hurry on to St. Johns."

The plan appearing feasible to White, Cabot--taking with him only his bag
of specimens, to which he intended to add others of the Bell Island
ore--bade his friends a temporary farewell, and was set ashore. As the
country was still covered with snow, he had slung his snowshoes on his
back, and as he was still clad in the well-worn fur garments that had
been so necessary in Labrador, his appearance was sufficiently striking
to attract attention as soon as he landed. One of the very first persons
who spoke to him proved to be the young superintendent of the mine he
wished to visit, and, when this gentleman learned that Cabot had just
returned from Labrador, he offered him every hospitality. Not only did
he show him over the mine and give him all possible information
concerning it, but he kept him over night in his own bachelor quarters,
and provided a boat to take him across to Portugal Cove on the mainland
in the morning.

From that point, there being no conveyance, Cabot was forced to walk the
nine miles into St. Johns, which city he did not reach until nearly noon.
Even there, where fur-clad Arctic explorers are not uncommon, Cabot's
costume attracted much attention. Disregarding this, he inquired his way
to the Bank of Nova Scotia, where he presented the letter of credit that
he had carefully treasured amid all the vicissitudes of the past ten
months