“Oh, he had to go and build a new home in the Basin of Minas.”
“Poor Beaver,” commented René, adding, “Jack, where is Glooscap now?”
“He became angry at the number of white men coming to take possession of the land; so he called a big whale to carry him away to some far-off shore. The Indians think, though, that some day he will come back.”
“Oh, I wish he would,” cried the little boy; “I wish he would right now, so’s I could see him.”
Going down the hill, they reached the shores of the Basin in time to see the tide come in. Great masses of blue, green and silver water rushed in the Gap to fill to overflowing the Basin and all its tributary streams.
“What a wonderful sight!” exclaimed Desiré.
“I should think the Wolf would have been drowned,” observed René, watching the flood of water, his eyes open very wide.
“Why, he’d go up on the mountain and watch it, not stay in it,” said Priscilla in such a scornful tone that Jack and Desiré smiled.
Several days later, they had passed through many little towns and stopped in front of many an isolated house where they disposed of many or few of their wares. The dooryards were gay with flowers, now; for no one was too poor or too lazy to have a garden. Sometimes these gardens were elaborate in shape, and of fair size, with colors and varieties blended beautifully; sometimes only a clump of cheerful red or golden nasturtiums, clustering around a stump or unsightly rock.
“Just look at that field!” exclaimed Desiré, suddenly.