Bob's eye took in a plate heaped high with white bread in the centre
of the table and he mentally resolved that it should not be there when
he had finished dinner.
"Here's some company for you," announced the factor. "Ungava Bob just
ran over from Eskimo Bay to pay us a visit. Take care of him. This,"
continued he by way of introduction, indicating the red-headed man,
"is Eric the Red, our carpenter, and this," turning to the other, "is
the Duke of Wellington, our blacksmith. Fill up, Ungava Bob, and come
over to the office and have a talk when you've finished dinner."
"Sit doon, sit doon," said the red-whiskered man, adding, as Mr.
MacPherson closed the door behind him, "my true name's Sandy Craig
and th' blacksmith here is Jamie Lunan. Th' boss ha' a way o' namin'
every mon t' suit hisself. Now, what's your true name, lad? 'Tis not
Ungava Bob."
"Bob Gray, an' I comes from Wolf Bight."
"Now, where can Wolf Bight be?" asked Sandy.
"In Eskimo Bay, sir."
"Aye, aye, Eskimo Bay. 'Tis a lang way ye are from Eskimo Bay! Th'
ship folk tell o' Eskimo Bay a many hundred miles t' th' suthard. An'
Jamie an' me be a lang way fra' Petherhead. Be helpin' yesel' now,
lad. Ha' some partridge an' ye maun be starvin' for bread, eatin' only
th' grub o' th' heathen Injuns this lang while," said he, passing the
plate, and adding in apology, "'Tis na' such bread as we ha' in auld
Scotland.
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