These were hung in the entrance shed of the cabin, where they would freeze and remain fresh and good until needed for the table.
And thus he too was doing his part in providing for the long winter which was at hand.
The goose-hunting season was always one of great sport for Bobby, but this year he found it lonesome enough without Jimmy's company.

It was this loneliness, no doubt, that prompted him, one morning in the beginning of the second week after the departure of the seal hunters, to take Abel Zachariah's old skiff and pull far down the bay in the hope that he might kill a seal on his own account.

It was a gray day, with leaden clouds hanging low.

Patches of snow lay upon the ground.

The bay, throbbing with a gentle swell, was somber and dark.
Bobby rowed the old skiff down the bay and past the bird islands near which he and Jimmy had their adventure on the cliff, but no seals were to be seen, and presently he turned his attention to the numerous sea pigeons which were swimming here and there.