“Yes.”
“And next?”
“Build a log-cabin.”
“You’ll have to cut down the trees first and then have—what do they call it?—a log-rolling.”
“Yes, that will come first.”
Agnes was silent a moment, then she began again. “Father, I never thought to ask before, but where are we going to sleep nights after we leave Carlisle?”
“We’ll make the towns along the way as far as we can, and when we pass beyond them, we may find a booth or so or maybe a cabin here and there, put up for the use of travellers like ourselves. When we reach the river, I may conclude to get a broad, as your grandfather Muirhead did.”
“What is a broad?”
“A broadhorn, they call it, is a flat-boat to be used in shallow water to carry a family’s belongings.”
Agnes smiled; this was such an adventurous way of going. The boat, particularly, gave her a feeling of novelty. “I hope you will get a boat; it would be a diversion to travel that way, and then no one would have to walk, not even you, Donald.” She patted the horse affectionately. “Go on, father. Where do we get the boat?”