"You can't try anything of that kind while you are in my care," interposed Amy. "The river is probably deeper than it looks, and if you should go too near the edge—"
"Oh, I can swim, my dear Miss Amy Redmond, though, to put your careful soul at ease, I'll promise not to go near the water. All the same, I wish that I were an Indian, at this very moment gliding down from Minas to Digby. Didn't you tell me that this was one of their favorite routes?" and she turned to Balfour for a reply.
"Why, yes," he replied, "from any point outside Minas they used to glide over to French Cross, then by a portage of four miles to Aylesford, and they would be borne on by the current down the Annapolis River, sometimes as far even as Digby."
"French Cross?" asked Amy. "What have I heard of French Cross?"
"Perhaps of the awful winter there that some of the Acadians passed through, just after the deportation."
"Tell me about it," cried Martine, eagerly. "I never heard of it."
"Well, after the Acadians had been put aboard the ships at Grand Pré, some friendly Micmacs hurried down secretly to warn the French at the eastern end of Annapolis. When they heard the news, about sixty Acadians decided on flight, and with a Micmac guide began to make their way north. They hoped to reach a point on the shore where the English would not see them, from which they could cross over to New Brunswick, and then get the protection of the French at Quebec. But when they reached Aylesford they did not dare try to cross. Their food was poor, sickness broke out among them, many died, and were buried in the soft Aylesford sand. The others went on to French Cross, but still did not dare cross the Bay. During the bitter cold of December, while they were suffering everything, they saw the last of the transports pass down the Bay, carrying their countrymen to the southern colonies. Many died during the winter, and when spring came the friendly Indians made birch-bark canoes for the remainder, who then crossed in safety to the New Brunswick shore."
"Man's inhumanity to man," sighed Amy, sentimentally.
"What wretches the English were!" exclaimed Martine, more energetically.
"Remember, please, that I am English;" and Balfour raised his hand in remonstrance. "Besides, the persecutors of the Acadians were not English, but your fellow New Englanders, who took the whole matter on themselves, without asking leave of any one else."