"The animal strayed away. It was shot for a caribou, and the hunter called up the neighbours to see the white stag with iron shoes on his hoofs."
The bi-weekly arrival of the mail boat is of prime importance to the outport population. Even the village dogs know when the funnel shows off the harbour and race down the hills for the tidbits that a kind-hearted cook throws from the galley. Fed on scant doles of dried herring, regarded only for the services they perform and burdened with dreadful yokes to prevent their jumping the bars to rob sheep-pens, these mongrels of the south coast form a pitiable crew. By law, all dogs that run at large must wear suspended about the neck a seven-pound piece of wood eighteen inches long and three inches in diameter. The weight of the dragging rope causes unspeakable sores on the poor necks. The dogs attack the sheep because they are starved. They are starved by masters who will not humanely kill them but keep them alive because of their value as chiens de trait. Needless to say there is no society in Newfoundland for the protection of animals from cruelty.
A harrowing vision often seen by the folk of this shore before a storm is a white eight-oared gig manned by a headless crew. Another ghostly apparition is a headless Frenchman who haunts the fish-houses of one of the harbours. On one of the rare beaches that are good for landing, no boat
