"Dan Rudd," roared Captain Zachariah Bluntt, "if I has to tell you again to keep that mouth organ below decks, I'll wring your neck Yes, wring your neck By the imps of the sea, I will " "Aye, aye, sir," answered Dan Rudd, a robust, sunny-faced sailor lad of sixteen, quickly slipping the offending harmonica, upon which he had been playing a lively air, into his pocket. Captain Bluntt, impatiently pacing the deck, was plainly in ill humor. His great red beard, standing out like a lion's mane, bristled ominously, and his shaggy eyebrows were drawn down in an unpleasant scowl.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

Ordinarily the verb to pack means to stow articles snugly into receptacles, but in the parlance of the trail it often means to carry or transport the articles from place to place. The pack in the language of the trail is the load a man or horse carries.

"How would you like to go to Labrador, Wallace?" It was a snowy night in late November, 1901, that my friend, Leonidas Hubbard, Jr., asked me this question. All day he and I had been tramping through the snow among the Shawangunk Mountains in southern New York, and when the shades of evening fell we had built a lean-to of boughs to shelter us from the storm. Now that we had eaten our supper of bread and bacon, washed down with tea, we lay before our roaring campfire, luxuriating in its glow and warmth.

"It's always the way, Wallace When a fellow starts on the long trail, he's never willing to quit. It'll be the same with you if you go with me to Labrador. When you come home, you'll hear the voice of the wilderness calling you to return, and it will lure you back again."

It was an evening in early September twenty years ago. The sun was just setting in a radiance of glory behind the dark spruce forest that hid the great unknown, unexplored Labrador wilderness which stretched away a thousand miles to the rocky shores of Hudson's Bay and the bleak desolation of Ungava. With their back to the forest and the setting sun, drawn up in martial line stood the eight or ten whitewashed log buildings of the Hudson's Bay Company Post, just as they had stood for a hundred years, and just as they stand to-day, looking out upon the wide waters of Eskimo Bay, which now,...

Abel Zachariah was jigging cod. Cod were plentiful, and Abel Zachariah was happy. It still lacked two hours of mid-day, and already he had caught a skiffload of fish and had landed them on Itigailit Island, where his tent was pitched.

"Doctor Joe Doctor Joe's comin' He just turned the p'int " Jamie Angus burst into the cabin at The Jug breathlessly shouting this joyful news, and then rushed out again with David and Andy at his heels. "Oh, Doctor Joe It can't be Doctor Joe, now Can it, Pop? It must be some one else Jamie sees It can't be Doctor Joe, whatever " exclaimed Margaret in a great flutter of excitement.