"'Tis fine if you're to stay!" "We were missin' you sore," said Thomas.

"'Tis like the Lord's blessin' to have you back at The Jug!" "And there's good old Roaring Brook!" Doctor Joe stopped for a moment with half closed eyes, to listen to the rush of water over the rocks, where Roaring Brook tumbled down into The Jug.

"It's the sweetest music I've heard since I left here! And the smell of the spruce trees! And such a scene! Thomas, my friend, it's a rugged land where we live, but it's God's own land, just as He made it, beautiful, and undefiled by man!" Doctor Joe turned about and stretched his right arm toward the south.
Before them lay the shimmering placid waters of The Jug, reaching away to join the wider, greater waters of Eskimo Bay.

In the distance, beyond the Bay, the snow-capped peaks of the Mealy Mountains stood in silent majesty, now reflecting the last brilliant rays of the setting sun.

As they tarried, watching them, the light faded and shafts of orange and red rose out of the west.