On the day of the march the temperature was almost down to zero, and the
sky a clear pale blue. The order had been issued for the little column
to be ready at nine o'clock sharp; and cold as it was the whole town was
astir. Union Jacks were flying in honor of the occasion, and many people
were out on the street to witness the departure. The few days that had
elapsed since the arrival of the _North King_ had not passed idly away.
A score or two of teams had been purchased. Long sleighs, bobsleighs,
carryalls had all been secured, and many of them loaded with goods that
Captain Payne had brought over the sea for the building and provisioning
of the prospective fort. Then there were fur robes and blankets,
kettles, pots and tins for the journey, stores of all sorts, and
provisions for the men, fodder and blankets for the horses, as well as
the reserve supply of ammunition, all packed in capacious sleighs, with
drivers ready and horses snorting impatiently for the order to start.
Punctual to the minute the companies lined up in the square by the
Citadel.
Sleighs for Sir George and his officers, one for Helen and Harold, and
another for the soldiers' wives, were there in regular order. Then came
the heavy sledges of the commissary department, and last of all the
"bobs" containing the building supplies and ordinance outfit for the new
fort at Penetang.
As the bell of the little old church on the hill struck nine a salute of
two guns from the Citadel was fired in honor of the event. Adieus had
all been said; hand-shaking was over; and as the shrill tones of the
bugles sounded, the order to march was given. Then the crowd cheered and
the sleighs started upon their long journey; while the soldiers in heavy
overcoats formed a double column and brought up the rear.
For the commencement of such a journey the day was excellent. The roads
were good, the snow well packed, and soon the procession of ponies and
sledges commenced to swing along at a rapid rate.
"Put my coat collar higher, please," said Helen to her husband as they
neared the outskirts of the town. Quick driving had made her feel the
cold air more keenly.
"Will that do?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied. "It keeps the wind out. These hot bricks for the
feet are delightful. What a glorious day for a ride! But look at that
big snow bank right in front of us! Bateese! don't upset us, please!"
"Bateese nevare upset. Et is only de dreef," returned the Frenchman, and
with a crack of his whip he circled around the sloping end of the bank
as the other drivers had done before him.
It was not so nearly an upset as Helen imagined, but she breathed more
freely when the huge pile of snow was behind them.
"Do we meet many drifts like that?" she asked a little timidly, for it
was her first experience.
"Oh! dat is noting," replied Bateese, tossing his head; "but dere is a
great big wan, high as yer head, right on de slope by de beeg hill, jess
befor' you cam to de lumber camp--Gar--he be a fine wan."
And the habitant cackled and cracked his whip again.
"Still we can pass it all right?" said Harold.
"Nevare can tell," returned Bateese, shrugging his shoulders. "It ees on
de end of a heel, where two winds meet--an 'eet may be flat as de diable
in de mornin'--an' so big at night dat you couldn't see ovare de top if
you was ten feet high."
"How then do you manage?" inquired Helen, who, seeing a twinkle in the
eye of Bateese, was regaining courage.
"Oh, some tam you go roun, some tam over top after deegin' de snow
awa--and some tam," he continued very impressively, "you make a
tunnel--camp all night in de meedle--and deeg out a t'oder side next
day."
"And what do you do with your horses while camping?" Harold asked with a
smile.
"Oh! dat's easy," replied Bateese with perfect gravity. "We jess deeg
places for dem beside de camp--don't have go out in de cole to feed 'em.
Dey eat snow for vater, and de leetle fire keep us all warm."
"That's a pretty good one, Bateese."
"Oh, no, jess a leetle wan; tell you some more bime-by."
And the Frenchman's infectious laughter was joined in by both Helen and
Harold as they scudded to the jingle of the sleigh-bells merrily along
the road.
In a couple of hours the riders had left the heavy sledges and the
soldiers far behind. They had passed the clearings. Open fields became
less frequent, and the stretches of forest more continuous. Sir George
had inquired minutely into the nature and difficulties of the road; and
although he believed that the march for days would be outside of the war
arena, he had sent forward a strong scouting party to reconnoitre.
The direction they were taking for the first part of the journey was
almost due north, following the sleigh track, which finally joined the
Truro-road along the banks of the Shebenacadie.
The troops and heavy sledges would come up later, but the order was to
make the first halt at a lumber camp on their line of march, at which
arrangements were already being made by the scouting party for their
reception. By noon the Colonel's sleigh headed the file at the top of a
long hill. Dr. Beaumont was with him.
"There it is!" he cried. "Yonder are the scouts.
"You know the place then?" said Sir George.
"Yes, I've often been here. Mr. Mackenzie has one of the finest lumber
camps in Nova Scotia. See, he is out now talking to Sergeant Banks."
"A thrifty Scotchman, eh! I hope Banks has managed it. I would like the
whole troop to dine at the camp without touching our rations. You can
settle with Mr. Mackenzie afterwards," he concluded, turning to Captain
Payne.
"It will be a great relief," returned the latter, "and give us a longer
march this afternoon. Nothing like making a good start on the first
day."
The sergeant saluted as they drove up.
"Mr. Mackenzie, this is our Colonel," he said, touching his cap.
And a tall, massively built Scotchman, with shaggy hair and rugged
features, grasped Sir George's hand warmly.
"Your men have been telling me about you, sir," he exclaimed. "I am glad
to see you. You must a' be hungry after your cold ride. The cook's doin'
his best to gie ye all a bite. Come right in. Your men can feed the
horses at the stable. Guid sakes, you've got a leddy with ye! and some
women folk, too!" and he finished by doffing his hat gallantly to
Helen.
"Yes, we are hungry and glad to call a halt, Mr. Mackenzie, and I know
Mrs. Manning will be tired enough to rest."
Here Harold introduced his wife and the group went inside. The huge
shanty was built entirely of logs, the inside walls hewed flat, the
chinks filled with wood and then covered level with plaster. One side of
the long wall was not more than six feet in altitude, but the opposite
one was twice as high to allow for the sloping slab roof. Scattered
along the two sides were a series of little windows, while in the far
end a pile of dry logs was burning brightly in a huge fireplace. Dining
tables of pine boards, supported on cross sticks, stretched the length
of the room, and were already laden with platters and cups in
preparation for the meal. The cross head table was built in a similar
manner, but instead of benches on either side, there was an array of
chairs, and perhaps in honor of the occasion, clean white sheets were
spread upon it for the coming meal.
The rough, homely comfort about the place seemed attractive after the
cold drive, and elicited warm compliments from the Colonel.
"Oh, it will do for the woods," returned Mackenzie, good-humoredly. "We
keep our men warm and comfortable and feed 'em well. The consequence is
that they like the job, and every man of 'em is glad to come back to
the camp when the next season opens."
"But does not the war interfere with your work and make your men
enlist?" the Colonel asked.
"Yes, sometimes; but it is a good thing to have a reputation. If peace
was declared to-morrow, I could get twice the men I need. As it is, half
the young men in the colony have listed. And yet I have all I want. But
dinner is almost ready, so Sir George, you and your men might put your
things in my office here; and, Mrs. Manning," he exclaimed with another
bow, "I haven't got a leddy's boudoir, but if you are not afraid of an
old bachelor's quarters, you might fix and rest yourself in my own den."
"I shall be only too glad," returned Helen. "This big shanty is so
comfortable, I am sure I would be too warm, if I kept my furs on."
"Well, just make yourself at home. You are welcome to any little thing I
can do for ye. But, ma sakes, what became o' the other weemen?"
"Oh, they went off to the men's kitchen with their husbands," returned
Sir George. "You know Corporal Bond and Private Hardman were of the
reconnoitring party."
And closing the heavy door of Mackenzie's den, Helen laid her wraps upon
his bed. A little mirror was hanging by the window and without delay she
arranged her hair. Then she washed in the pewter bowl and sat down in
the arm chair, the only seat in the room. Soliloquizing, she began to
realize what was before her. Through the little window she saw that the
shanty was close to the woods, an impenetrable forest on every side.
Only half a day out from Halifax, and notwithstanding the presence of
her husband, in a certain sense alone. And if alone, when blessed with
the rude comforts of the log camp and the generous cordiality of the
owner, what must it be when out in the forest night after night, through
all the long months of the winter? There could be no shadow of turning
now--no possibility of retreat. Still she did not lament. It was only
that life seemed more tense--more binding--infinitely more positive and
real!
A little later, Harold came for her, and they joined Mr. Mackenzie, Sir
George and the officers at the head table, in the big hall of the
shanty. Their host placed Helen and Sir George as his guests of honor.
Then the big gong sounded and the shanty-men in smock frock and blue
jean overalls filed in and took their places.
"That's a motley crowd, Sir George," said Mr. Mackenzie. They could
easily be observed by the Colonel, for his seat commanded a view of the
whole room.
"Yes, you have many nationalities here: German, English, Scotch, Irish,
French," said Sir George.
"But Johnny Canucks are on top every time," was the answer. "They stand
the work well, and make fine lumbermen. They have their peculiarities,
though. See how they spread their molasses on their pork instead of
their bread."
"Like the Dutchman sleeping on straw with his feather bed on top of
him."
"Or the Irishman with his potatoes and point."
"Yes, but the French and the Dutch make the most of it, while Pat
contents himself with a joke."
"And on it he fattens," returned Mackenzie with a laugh. "But I tell you
my men are well fed, the grub's rough but wholesome, and we often eat a
calf or a deer at a meal besides a pile of other stuff. Our table
doesn't differ much from theirs either," he continued, "but to-day in
honor of our guests, particularly Mrs. Manning and yoursel', Sir George,
I told the cook to make it extra fine. By George, he's sending us
griddled tenderloin, roast turkey and stuffed partridges as well."
Then they had baked potatoes, cranberry sauce, salaratus cakes and tea.
"We've only got brown sugar, Mrs. Manning, I'm sorry to say," he
continued, turning to Helen. "And unfortunately our coos are all dry."
"It's a genuine feast," returned Helen, "and I'm thirsty enough to drink
anything." With an effort she controlled the muscles of her face as she
drank the beverage. Lumber-camp tea in those days was a nauseous draft
to any but the woodsmen themselves.
By-and-bye the meal was over and Helen made a hasty run to the kitchen
department to see what the women were doing. The lumbermen, too, filed
out of the room to make way for the soldiers who at that moment were
marching down the hill. They were hungry after their long tramp, and did
not require a second bidding, when word came that the tables were ready.
In offering to settle for the meal so freely granted, the response was a
surprise to Sir George.
"Take pay for a feed!" cried the Scotchman with a laugh. "Not much, I
reckon we can stand it without smashing the camp. Thank ye kindly,
though."
"This is too generous altogether," was the protest.
"Not at all," replied Mackenzie. "Scotch bodies are canny, but when they
say a thing they mean it."
"Well! we'll not forget you," said Sir George, as he grasped the
generous donor by the hand. "Perhaps some day our turn will come."
Soon the teams were ready again, and several of the marching officers
took the places of those who had ridden. The result was that Chaplain
Evans was assigned to a seat in Helen's sleigh, while Harold walked
with his men.
"It can't be helped," said the Lieutenant, as he gave his wife a
momentary caress. "I shall have to ride and march turn about until
Quebec is reached. But you are in good company and there is no danger."
"Well," replied Helen, forcing a laugh, "your absence will make your
presence all the dearer; so good-bye, sweetheart."
"Until to-night," was his answer, and throwing her another kiss, he
placed himself at the head of his men.
"How much further do we go to-day?" Helen asked of Sir George, who came
to speak to her for a moment before getting into his sleigh.
"About fifteen miles, I think. We want to camp at Shebenacadie to-night.
There will be accommodation in a settler's house for you and the women,
but for the rest of us, the men will have to put up shanties, and the
sooner we get away the better. The scouting party went ahead two hours
ago on snowshoes, so they will have them started when we arrive."
"But what after to-night?" said Helen.
"I'm afraid we'll have to camp, women as well as men," said the Colonel
with a shrug, and stepping into his sleigh, the cavalcade started.