g was good,"
Malcolm, "running light" with his dogs, made the journey to Long Point
easily in two days. Yes, the skin was sold, but the agent had not yet
sent the cash. It had brought $430 and the half would come along as
soon as ever Monsieur Baillot forwarded the notes. But the winter
again went by and no notes, no letters, or other news ever reached
Malcolm McCrea. Six years passed, and still they never came, and the
McCreas supposed the debt was time-barred. Indeed, they had almost
forgotten the whole incident.

Malcolm was still nominally at his father's house, but for three
winters he had trapped on the Grand River, which flowed out into one
of the bays he had discovered "down North." Here with the help of a
hired man he had built up quite a fine little house, and made every
preparation for that momentous life experience which usually comes
early in life to every Labrador man. With characteristic caution he
had waited for a good winter hunt to buy furnishings and traps. This
had also given Nancy Grahame, who lived close to his home, time to get
ready the needed linen and other requisites. "Clewing up" his salmon
fishery in good time, Malcolm had cruised North in his own small
sailboat, and till the first ice made had been very busy cutting wood,
hauling food into the country for the winter tilts along his fur-path
on the Grand River, completing his cellar, and safely storing his
winter house supplies.

His first hunt being mostly for foxes along the landwash of the bay,
he had waited until the snow came to tail his traps, judging that
although it would take a week with his dogs to fetch his wife to their
new home, he might safely chance that length of time away without
losing anything which might be snared in the meanwhile. This was the
third winter he had furred this path without interruption, and by all
the custom of the coast no one would now interfere with his claim. So
Malcolm started south at a stretch gallop with a light heart.

The two hundred and odd miles to the rendezvous at his father-in-law's
winter home in the woods were covered with only two nights out, and
that when the trails were as yet hardly broken and the young ice on
the rivers would surely have delayed any man with less determination.

The wedding was in real Labrador style. Every one from far and near
was present, quite without the formality of an invitation. It would,
indeed, be an ill omen for the future if any one were omitted throug