s-eye view of the new fort. She had not
sat many minutes here when her eye was arrested by the appearance of an
unusual object in the distance. Frank, who was yet engaged in
conversation with Stanley on the beach, also noticed it. Laying his
hand on the arm of his companion, he pointed towards the narrows, where
a small, white, triangular object was visible against the dark cliff.
As they gazed, a second object of similar form came into view; then a
fore and top sail made their appearance; and, in another second, a
schooner floated slowly through the opening! Ere the spectators of this
silent apparition could give utterance to their joy, a puff of white
smoke sprang from the vessel's bow, and a cannon-shot burst upon the
mountains. Leaping on from cliff to crag, it awakened a crash of
magnificent echoes, which, after prolonged repetitions, died away in low
mutterings like distant thunder. It was followed by a loud cheer from
the schooner's deck, and the H.B.C. flag was run up to the main, while
the Union Jack floated at the peak.

"Now, Frank, give the word," cried Stanley, taking off his cap, while
the men ran down to the beach _en masse_.

"Hip, hip, hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" echoed the men, and a cheer arose among the cliffs that moved
to the very centre the hearts of those who heard and gave it.

Again and again the stirring shout arose from the fort, and was replied
to from the schooner. It was no matter of form, or cheer of ceremony.
There was a deep richness and a prolonged energy in the tone, which
proved that the feelings and lungs of the men were roused to the
uttermost in its delivery. It told of long gathering anxieties swept
entirely away, and of deep joy at seeing friendly faces in a sterile
land, where lurking foes might be more likely to appear.

At all times the entrance of a ship into port is a noble sight, and one
which touches the heart and evokes the enthusiasm of almost every human
being; but when the ship arriving is almost essential to the existence
of those who watch her snowy sails swelling out as they urge her to the
land--when her keel is the first that has ever ploughed the waters of
their distant bay--and when her departure will lock them up in solitude
for a long, long year--such feelings are roused to their utmost pitch of
intensity.

Cheer upon cheer rose and fell, and rose again, among the mountains of
Ungava. Even Edith's tiny voice helped to swell the enthusiastic shout;
and