Besides the factor and the two clerks these were the only white people
at the Fort, and naturally they grew to be close companions. The white
men, too, were the only ones of the Post folk that could speak
English, for the few Eskimos and Indians that lived on the reservation
knew only their respective native tongue.
And so the time passed until, at last, the middle of March came, with
its lengthening days and stormy weather, and Bob was beginning to fear
that Mr. MacPherson had abandoned the project of sending him out with
a mail, for nothing further had been said about his going since the
conversation on the day of his arrival. For two or three days he had
been upon the lookout for a favourable opportunity to ask whether or
not he was to go, and was thinking about it one Friday morning as he
worked at the wood-pile, when "Secretary Bayard" hailed him:
"Hey, there, Bob! The boss wants you."
This was auspicious, and Bob hurried over to the factor's inner
office, where he found Mr. MacPherson waiting for him.
"Well, Ungava Bob," the factor greeted, "are you getting tired of
Ungava and anxious to get away?"
"I'm likin' un fine, sir, but wantin' t' be goin' home wonderful bad,"
answered Bob.
"I suppose you are. I suppose you are.
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