[Footnote 4: Along the St. Lawrence and the Labrador coast a salmon fisherman is always spoken of by natives and local residents as an "officer," the reason being that most of the sportsmen who visit these waters are English army officers. Hence salmon fishermen are universally termed "officers," and a habitan will describe the sportsmen who have rented a certain river as "_les officiers de la Moisie_" or "_les officiers de la Romaine_."] "Oh!" answered Bennie ruefully. "I didn't know. I supposed I could fish anywhere." "Well, you can't!" snapped Holliday, puzzled by the little man's curious appearance. "I suppose I can go ashore, can't I?" insisted Bennie somewhat indignantly. "I'll just take a camping trip then. I'd like to see the big salmon cache up at the forks if I can't do anything else." Instantly Holliday scented something. "Another fellow after gold," he muttered to himself. Just at that moment, the tide being at the ebb, a hundred acres of green water off the _Druro's_ bow broke into whirling waves and jets of foam again. All about them, and a mile to seaward, these merry men danced by the score. Bennie thrilled at the beauty of it. The whaleboat containing Holliday was now right under the ship's bows. "I want to look round anyhow," expostulated Bennie. "I've come all the way from Boston." He felt himself treated like a criminal, felt the suspicion in Holliday's eye. The factor laughed. "In that case you certainly deserve sympathy." Then he hesitated. "Oh, well, come along," he said finally. "We'll see what we can do for you." A rope ladder had been thrown over the side and one of the sailors now lowered Bennie's luggage into the boat. The professor followed, avoiding with difficulty stepping on his mackintosh as he climbed down the slippery rounds. Holliday grasped his hand and yanked him to a seat in the stern. "Yes," he repeated, "if you've come all the way from Boston I guess we'll have to put you up for a few days anyway."