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helpless. And then he broke down and cried. He wept bitterly and long, until no more tears would come and, numbed, he finally rose to his feet to do what he had to do. He cursed himself over and over for having left the area without first knowing that his brother was alive and safe.
    He buried Tom by the side of the river. He did not mark the grave because he feared the Beothuk might return and desecrate it. Then he got back in his boat and returned to Exploits, leaving his intended work on the tilt undone.
    That winter was the worst of his life. He was haunted by guilt and the image of his brother’s mutilated body. He could not shake from his mind the grisly scene that had confronted him at the river. Indeed, it would remain with him for the rest of his life. He abandoned his plans to return to Hall’s Bay and the life he had planned there for Mary and himself. He never wanted to see the place again.
    The period from January to March was one of the most severe in many years. Heavy snow came early and covered the ground to a considerable depth, making normal movement difficult and in some cases impossible. Winds pounded the north coast of Newfoundland for weeks on end, and John’s energies, like those of most of the area’s population, were expended in keeping himself and Mary warm and alive. Little else mattered. Time passed at an excruciatingly slow pace as the long nights and short days blended into an unbroken period of cold misery for all. With little else to occupy his time, the circumstances of Tom’s death played heavily on his mind and left John depressed and melancholic for much of the time.
    John Rousell, however, was nothing if not resolute and persevering, and as spring finally approached, he made a conscious effort to shake himself from his depression and to consider his options for the future. He and Mary talked at great length, until gradually, despite what had happened there, the thought of returning to Hall’s Bay became entrenched in his mind. When he broached the subject with her, she, knowing how much he desired to go back, agreed to go with him even though the tilt was all he had to offer for her living accommodations. They would work on it together.
    In early May, John’s boat once again grounded onto the bank of the river, and he and Mary stepped ashore to begin their new life in Hall’s Bay. She, like John, was immediately entranced by the beauty of the area. He showed her where Tom was buried, and she wept silently over his grave until he took her by the hand and gently led her away. Then he took her inside the tilt. As he expected, she was not impressed and let him know in no uncertain terms that cleaning it up and improving it would have to be their utmost priority.
    John and Mary spent their first summer there, operating the salmon weir and preparing the site for their new home. In the fall they built a proper house for themselves and laid out a vegetable garden for planting the following spring. They would spend the rest of their lives there at the mouth of the river, raising a family in the process. In the early years they occasionally caught glimpses of tall red-skinned strangers helping themselves to a few salmon from the weir. With the passage of time, however, the periodic appearances of the Beothuk became fewer and fewer until they eventually failed to materialize at all. By then the Beothuk people were all but extinct. The remaining handful of this race had been pushed far back into the interior of Newfoundland by the ever encroaching presence of white settlers in the area, and within a few short years they would cease to exist at all.
    It is clear that the Beothuk who had frequented the Hall’s Bay area knew the Rousells, and in all likelihood understood that they were blood brothers. It is obvious, too, that they differentiated between the two men, recognizing the inherent goodness of John Rousell as well as the true nature of his brother Tom. Their