"Well sir, what the writin' said was this. He couldn't hardly make it out it was so faint. It said by an' by they drew lots to see who was to be killed for the rest to eat." Here the man with the dog drew a long sigh and said: "That's a fine kind of a country to be comin' to, ain't it, where things like that can happen? I'm glad I ain't in Doc Grenfell's rubber boots. He's goin' to stay. I thank my lucky stars I don't have to. I'll sure be glad to get back to Yarmouth once more. I used to think it was a hole in the ground, but it's heaven compared to what we're comin' to." "Wait a minute, wait a minute!" said the other, "I ain't finished tellin' you. Lemme get through. I was sayin', they drew lots, an'--the lot fell to the lady." "They was goin' to eat the lady!" exclaimed his comrade, in horror. "Yes, sir, that's what they would 'a' done. But her brother he said he'd take her place." "An' then what happened?" "They don't know no more after that. The writin' stops there." "Say," said the dog-fancier, disgusted, "that's no place to have the story stop. Get a fellow all strung up and then dump him off that way without knowin' how it ended." The man with the hose began to bind up a leak with a bit of tarpaulin. "I ain't made it up outa my head," he said. "I'm just tellin' you what happened. An' it seems to me the story did have an end, all right, 'cause there they were all lyin' stretched out cold the way the hunter found 'em." The listener shivered. "Say, can't you tell us a more cheerful yarn?" The story-teller shook his head. "Mos' Newfoundland an' Labrador stories is like that, Bill," he said. "Grey, like the fog an' the face o' the sea.--Guess I'll go an' put on some more clothes. This wind sure does bite clear into the middle o' your bones." "Yes," said the other, "an' the sea's gettin' colder every minute. Say, Jim, I hope the watch'll keep his eyes peeled to-night. I'd sure hate to run into any o' those there bergs. Don't like the looks o' that one we seen just now. One o' those'd be enough to send us all to Davy Jones's locker in a jiffy." For five days more they ran on, all the time through dense fog. Then--the grey mist lifted, and the lovely green of the land appeared. At least, it looked beautiful after so many days at sea. But what was that? Over the evergreens a tall plume of black smoke rose. "The place is burnin' up!" said Bill to Jim. "I counted thirteen places where she's on fire. What is that anyway?" "That's St. John's," answered Bill, a little proud of his knowledge. "Capital o' Newfoundland." "Where're we gonna land, with this fire goin' on this way?" "Dunno," said Bill. "We'll run in farther, 'n' then we can see." Grenfell was at the prow, looking at the burning city. Some of the ships had burned down to the water, right at the wharves. Chimneys were standing up out of the ruins like broken, blackened fingers pointing at the sky. People came running down through the smoke and the flames.