was complete! There was little to attract wanderers here: the nearest
mines were fifty miles away; the virgin forest on the mountains inland
were penetrated only by sawmills and woodmen from the Bay settlements,
equally remote. Although by the shore-line the lights of the great port
were sometimes plainly visible, yet the solitude around him was
peopled only by Indians,--a branch of the great northern tribe of
"root-diggers,"--peaceful and simple in their habits, as yet
undisturbed by the white man, nor stirred into antagonism by aggression.
Civilization only touched him at stated intervals, and then by the more
expeditious sea from the government boat that brought him supplies. But
for his contiguity to the perpetual turmoil of wind and sea, he might
have passed a restful Arcadian life in his surroundings; for even his
solitude was sometimes haunted by this faint reminder of the great port
hard by that pulsated with an equal unrest. Nevertheless, the sands
before his door and the rocks behind him seemed to have been untrodden
by any other white man's foot since their upheaval from the ocean. It
was true that the little bay beside him was marked on the map as "Sir
Francis Drake's Bay," tradition having located it as the spot where
that ingenious pirate and empire-maker had once landed his vessels and
scraped the barnacles from his adventurous keels. But of this Edgar
Pomfrey--or "Captain Pomfrey," as he was called by virtue of his
half-nautical office--had thought little.

For the first six months he had thoroughly enjoyed his seclusion. In
the company of his books, of which he had brought such a fair store
that their shelves lined his snug corners to the exclusion of more
comfortable furniture, he found his principal recreation. Even his
unwonted manual labor, the trimming of his lamp and cleaning of his
reflectors, and his personal housekeeping, in which his Indian help at
times assisted, he found a novel and interesting occupation. For outdoor