"Don't say that," Jean remonstrated. "No other man could have done what you did. It was wonderful."
"I was afraid the slashers might overtake us," Dane replied. "Have you told the men about them?"
"Oh, no, I forgot all about them."
As briefly as possible she explained how the rebels were on their way, and planning to attack the mast-cutters that very night. Dane also related his experience at the little cabin on the shore of the Washademoak, and how he had overtaken and outstripped the slashers. He told, too, how Jean had started in the dead of night to give the warning, but becoming bewildered by the storm had wandered from the trail, and he had by chance found her and brought her into camp.
The mast-cutters were now thoroughly aroused. Word was at once sent to the various cabins, and all were ordered to prepare to march against the enemy. Muskets were brought forth and examined with the greatest care, and swords were unearthed from most unlikely places. Powder-horns were filled, and a supply of bullets doled out to each man. Snow-shoes were attended to, and complete arrangements made for an early departure.
In less than an hour's time fifty men were lined up, the final instructions issued, and the order to march given. They laughed as they breasted the wind which swept across the little clearing, and they looked like a bunch of school boys as they plunged through the snow to the shelter of the trees beyond.
As Jean stood and watched them through a tiny spot in the little window which the banked-up snow had not covered, her heart thrilled with pride. They were but humble men, she knew, yet glad and ready to maintain their Sovereign's cause in the heart of the great northern wilds. She thought of what Norman had said about King George, and a smile flitted across her face. But what did his words amount to before the stern reality of such staunch champions as these obscure mast-cutters? Men might curse and rave, but how futile they were against the spirit of loyalty implanted in the hearts of determined, rugged men.
In the meantime, the cook, the one man of the mast-cutting gang who was left behind because of his age, had prepared food and tea for the new arrivals. Dane and Jean were hungry, and thoroughly enjoyed the rough, though well-cooked meat and bread. "Old Dennis," as he was called, waited upon the visitors with considerable pleasure. His eyes twinkled with merriment as he noted the happiness of the young couple.
"This is the fust time a female woman has ever been in this shanty," he told them. "I never expected to see the day when I'd be feedin' one with me own hands, an' sich a handsome lass, at that. A storm ginrally brings something I've noticed. It was allus raining or snowin', or blowin' when a baby came to our house, an' I had to go to the neighbours fer help."
"How many children have you?" Jean asked with a smile.