Part 14 (1/2)

”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 smas.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.signed 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.

CHAPTER XIII.

For more than an hour the drive was rapid, the country being less undulating and the road smoother. Still the way was always through the woods. Tall pines everywhere stretched skyward, while on the lowlands, ashes and elms spread out their grey branches, in vivid contrast to the evergreen above. Scrub oaks on the hillocks still carried the dead red leaves of the past year; while here and there a beech or a maple added its varied beauty to the winter landscape.

Although the road lay for miles along the banks of the Shebenacadie, its waters could only occasionally be seen. Now and then a wider vista opened, and a bit of the das.h.i.+ng river, rendered free here and there by a more rapid current, added picturesqueness to the view. At other places the bed of the stream was covered with ice, save for an occasional rollway, where the lumberer had piled his sawlogs upon its broken surface.

The drivers had covered more than half the distance to the proposed camp when they reached the top of a long ridge stretching out on either side.

At the foot of the incline, a stranger sight than they had yet seen attracted their attention. It was a circle of Indian wigwams, in the lowest part of the valley, no doubt placed there to protect them from the winds that prevailed in the uplands. One of the lodges was taller and broader than the rest, but in other respects they were alike, and of the usual cone form.

In the centre of the circle was a huge log fire, around which stood a promiscuous lot of Indians, squaws and papooses, watching the approaching sleighs.

”Are these Indians always friendly?” the Chaplain asked of Bateese, as they gradually neared the little Indian village.

”Oui, Monsieur, yees,” was the answer. ”Dey be Micmacs, and Micmacs goot Indians. Not like de Hurons, who scalp all de tam. But let white man cheat a Micmac, or run away wid heem squaw; den by Gar he have revanche.

He follow dat man till he kill him wid his hatchet, den put him in de ground; and no wan ever hear of him no more.”

”Whew!” exclaimed Helen, with a little s.h.i.+ver. ”They must be very good Indians, indeed, if they kill a man for cheating.”