of
all, the splitting-knives flashed, and torches flared on the decks and
in the mud huts ashore. Barren hills--the bleak and uninhabited places
of the northern coast--for a season reflected the lurid glow and echoed
the song and shout. Thanks be to God, the fleet was loading!

In the drear autumn weather a cloud of sail went to the
s'uth'ard--doughty little schooners, decks awash: beating up to the home
ports.

XIX

The FATE of The MAIL-BOAT DOCTOR

My flag flapped a welcome in the sunny wind as the mail-boat came
creeping through the Gate and with a great rattle and splatter dropped
anchor in the basin off my father's wharf: for through my father's long
glass I had from the summit of the Watchman long before spied the doctor
aboard. He landed in fine fettle--clear-eyed, smiling, quick to extend
his strong, warm hand: having cheery words for the folk ashore, and
eager, homesick glances for the bleak hills of our harbour. Ecod! but he
was splendidly glad to be home. I had as lief fall into the arms of a
black bear as ever again to be greeted in a way so careless of my breath
and bones! But, at last, with a joyous little laugh, he left me to gasp
myself to life again, and went bounding up the path. I managed to catch
my wind in time to follow; 'twas in my mind to spy upon his meeting with
my sister; nor would I be thwarted: for I had for many days been
troubled by what happened when they parted, and now heartily wished the
unhappy difference forgot. So from a corner of the hillside flake I
watched lynx-eyed; but I could detect nothing amiss--no hint of
ill-feeling or reserve: only frank gladness in smile and glance and
handclasp. And being well content with this, I went back to the wharf to
lend Tom Tot a hand with the landing of the winter supplies, the medical
stores, the outfit for the projected sloop: all of which the doctor had
brought with him from St. John's.

* * * * *

"And not only that," said the doctor, that night, concluding his
narrative of busy days in the city, "but I have been appointed," with a
great affectation of pomposity, "the magistrate for this district!"

We were not impressed. "The magistrate?" I mused. "What's that?"

"What's a magistrate!" cried he.

"Ay," said I. "I never seed one."

"The man who enforces the law, to be sure!"

"The law?" said I. "What's that?"

"The law of the land, Davy," he began, near dumbfounded, "is for
the----"