Upon this Bart began to whine out through his nose a doleful ditty, to the tune of Auld Lang Syne.
"Whene’er I take my walks abroad
How many holes I see!
But how they came upon the ground
Completely puzzles me.
"Here once the peaceful Frenchman dwelt,
And passed his happy days
In draining bogs, devouring frogs,
And cultivating maize.
"These holes, no doubt, were dug by him;
We see them all around;
And all Grand Pré to me appears
A very holy ground.”
“That’s what Captain Corbet would call a ‘hime,’” said Phil, with a laugh. “It’s too solemn, Bart, for this occasion. We want something business-like now.”
“Then here goes,” said Bart, who had a happy talent for improvising. And he droned out the following, in a whining voice, but to a livelier measure:—
"Over Minas’s Bay
Came the French to Grand Pré,
And they all were remarkable fellers;
They lived upon frogs,
And they wore wooden clogs,
And preserved their potatoes in cellars.”
“There,” said Arthur, “that’s enough, Bart. If we don’t stop you now, you’ll go on till sundown. If we’re going to dig, we’d better begin, for it’s getting late, and it’ll be dark before we know it.”
“All right, my son,” said Bart. “Here goes—come along.”
And seizing his spade, he rushed down into the cellar; and plunging it deep into the earth, he began to throw it out.
“Hurrah, Bart!” cried Bruce. “Dig away, old man! You’ll turn up the whole cellar, at that rate, before we can get down. Leave something for us, though, just for the name of the thing, you know.”
“Come along,” cried Bart, throwing out his seventh shovelful.
By this time they were all at the hole, and plunged in their spades. Out flew the earth. In their zealous work the shovels clashed against one another furiously, and rather impeded their progress; but in spite of this, the earth was thrown out with a rapidity that contrasted in a very striking manner with the slowness of their progress on that former occasion. Then, the earth was rigid, and hard bound with the turf that had been accumulating for generations, and Bruce’s pickaxe had to prepare the-way for the slow entrance of their spades. But now, their spades went in easily, and the pickaxe as yet was not needed.
But the work of digging was an unusual one, and their violent efforts exhausted them before they had worked for a long time. They paused for a moment and rested.