He was an indifferent trapper, and the living that he made following the trails amounted to a bare existence.

He decided, therefore, that it was his duty to himself to return to the work for which, during long years of study, he had been trained.
Six weeks before Doctor Joe had sailed away on the mail boat from Fort Pelican, bound for New York, that far distant, mysterious, wonderful city of which he had told so many marvellous tales.

Thomas had grave doubts that they would ever see him again, though he had said that he would some day return to visit his friends at The Jug and to see his own little deserted cabin at Break Cove, where he had spent so many lonely but profitable years, for it was here that he had rebuilt his broken health.

He had good reason to love the place, and he was quite sure he had no better or truer friends in all the world than Thomas Angus and his family.
"Thomas," said he at parting, "if I had the means to support myself I would stay here on The Labrador and be doctor to the people that need me, for there are folk enough that need a doctor's help up and down the coast.

But I'm a poor man, and if I stopped here I'd have to make my living as a trapper, and you know how poor a trapper I've been all these years.