Part 18 (1/2)

”Miramichi River, New Brunswick, 240 miles from Halifax, Feb. ----, 1814.

”I intended to write in my diary every day when I started, but, 'The best laid schemes of men and mice gang aft aglee.' Several weary days have gone since I used my pencil last. I was more than half sick and did not feel like writing. But now I am better; so start anew and will try to keep it up. Harold has been very good to me; and so have the Doctor and the Chaplain, and the Colonel and everybody. Still travelling twenty miles a day, no matter how you feel, is no joke, particularly when you have to camp out in improvised shanties every night, no matter how intense the cold. Two of the days it stormed furiously and Bateese had all he could do to keep our sleigh from upsetting in the drifts. Some of the others did go over much to their discomfort, and we began to prize Bateese all the more for his dexterity, even if he does brag a bit. When the blast was the keenest both the women got their noses frozen. That was two days ago, and their driver discovered it just as we stopped to camp for dinner.

”'By gar!' he cried out vehemently, 'de vemen's noses bot' be friz.'

”Bateese dropped his lines into Harold's hands and almost with a bound reached the other sleigh. Then the two men commenced at once to rub the frozen noses with snow, much to the disgust of the women. But opposition was useless. It was the right thing to do, and at the same time a rare joke to the Frenchmen who continued to jabber their patois.

”'Be quiet now, Femme Bond,' cried Bateese. 'You no want your nose drop off.'

”'Ardman never look at 'im femme again wid big hole in him face,” yelled the other. ''Old steel I say.'

”The women realized the truth and slowly the white ivory hardness of the two noses disappeared, and they became red and soft again.

”Dey must cover de face wid wraps all de rest of de day” was Bateese's parting injunction as he left them to return to his own sleigh.

”We are lucky in having Bateese for a driver. He is usually so amusing with his stories. At first we used to believe all he said. Now we discriminate, and laugh at his tales about bears and things as heartily as he does himself. Speaking of Bruin reminds me that I saw wild bears for the first time yesterday. Harold was with me. The Colonel's sleigh, as usual, was just in front of ours; and as our horses slowly ascended a steep hill on the curve, we saw a big black bear, with two little cubs some months old, sitting on her haunches right in the road--a most unusual thing, for bears as a rule hibernate during the winter.

”Sir George's horses reared, while the men in his sleigh picked up their guns and fired. The old bear dropped, but the little ones were not hurt, and instead of running away they cuddled beside their dead mother. Such a pitiful sight! Some of the men clamored to keep the cubs for mascots; and the habitants declared that the journey would be lucky if they did.

I was glad when the Colonel gave his consent, for I hated the idea of killing the cunning little things; and if left without their mother they would surely die. So some stayed behind to skin and dress the bear, for it was so much added to our larder; and also to fix a box to put the little cubs in. Funny, too, that this should happen on what they call 'Bear-day.'

”And last night we had roast bear for supper. It has a strong taste, but as I am getting well, and hungry again, I relished it as a change from our regular diet.

”Harold was telling me afterwards that one of the cubs is a male and the other a female; and that the two companies are to have one apiece. The funniest part of it is that they christened them both with singaree--one to be called Helen and the other Manning. I knew the officers were very kind, but I never suspected that the soldiers cared a b.u.t.ton for me.

Pshaw! There's a tear on my paper. I wonder where it came from?”

CHAPTER XVI.

HELEN'S DIARY CONTINUED.

”Restigouche River, Feb. ----.

Four more days' journey without writing a line: and then the long, long nights. The same old story; riding all morning, then helping the women to fix things for dinner in the woods. Then riding all afternoon till nearly sundown, followed by the excitement and turmoil among the men, in building camps for the night. It is a strange life to lead. Three weeks since we left Halifax, and only once inside a house during all that time. Just think of it. Camping in the woods among the hills every night no matter how it snows or how it freezes. Still, as long as it has to be, the woods are better than an open plain; and the denser, the kinder, for they break the cold winds from the icy northland. There is always a big fire before each shanty when we retire for the night; but after you get into bed, the soughing of the winds through the trees of the forest sounds very weird. Down in the valley where the men pitch the tents may be still; but away in the tops of the tall pines, a whole legion of elfs are sounding their harps and scampering through the branches. How often when you lie still with eyes wide open, waiting for sleep that will not come, you can see the glittering stars through the c.h.i.n.ks above you, while the fairy imps go by in myriads, blowing their tiny whistles and tw.a.n.ging their lutes in tune to the elfish music of the night.

By-and-bye, tired nature whiles you to the silent land; but the dirge goes with you even to the world of dreams.

”Then by the break of day the bugle sounds. Up you start to make a crude toilet. You stow away your little bits of goods and chattels, eat your breakfast of biscuit and bacon and tea, and while men are tearing your bunk to pieces and packing it for the journey, you in turn take your place in the caravan, counting the days of the fathomless past and the inevitable days of the future.

”But how lucky it is that there are incidents to note. It keeps one thinking, so I watch the officers and men in their strange methods.

Sunday, Monday and Sat.u.r.day are alike to them; except that the Chaplain holds a short service after breakfast every Sunday morning. Just as battles are fought more frequently on Sunday than any other day, so soldiers when marching want to cover more ground on that day than any other. I wonder if it is because they want to follow our Saviour's teaching?

”Then all seem to have forgotten the past. They live in the actual present. Even the Chaplain, whom one would expect to find as grave as a judge, is, I verily believe, the jolliest man in the whole party. He doesn't seem to have a single care. One day as we halted for dinner, a big black squirrel got cornered among some logs; and he was the first to jump from his sleigh to try and catch him. Of course others followed to join in the chase. But the squirrel was not to be caught, and he chirped merrily as he scampered up a beech tree. Captain c.u.mmings was for shooting him.

”'Let the poor beggar alone,' cried the Chaplain with a hearty laugh.

'When we run it's our fun, when he runs it's his.'

”Another time when it was his turn to ride in our sleigh, I happened to say as we neared the camping ground that I would dearly love to have venison for supper again.

”'Do you hear that, Bateese?' he cried to the driver, giving him a punch in the back. 'Madam says she won't eat a bite of supper unless you provide her with venison steak.'