"Hoity, toity, man!" exclaimed the Colonel, elevating his eyebrows and smiling good-humoredly at the irate Anglo-Frenchman. "I should not think you would care exceedingly which way it went."
A general laugh followed, and the next moment the bugle sounded.
CHAPTER XXI.
HELEN'S DIARY.
"Roche Lake, Madawaska River, March ——, 1814.
"One hundred miles yet to face over this weary way! Oh, why did I come? Harold is well and strong, and could have done without me; while I am a drag to him and the whole troop besides. It is two weeks since we left Sparksville, or Bytown, as Lieutenant Smith calls it, and I have had that miserable ague, in spite of the Doctor's medicine, every two days since we started. Sometimes I have a funny kind of delirium with it. While it lasts my head buzzes and whirls, and when I walk I feel as if travelling with tremendous speed, and keep looking over my shoulder to see if some hideous object is not chasing me. The sensation is horrible, and the only relief is stillness. Even the motion of the sleigh affects me, no matter how quietly I sit. During those long drives along the Madawaska River the feeling was sometimes terrifying. I stood it while I could. At last Harold spoke to Sir George, and he promised, if I could endure it till we arrived at Roche Lake, to have a shanty built for me in which I could rest until able to finish the journey. The reason he chose Roche Lake was because we would there leave the smooth surface of the ice for heavier marching through the forest.
"It was very good of Sir George. He sent men on ahead to build the shanty, and now here we are, and a cozy cabin they have made of it, although isolated at least a hundred miles away from any other white man's dwelling. But I must jot down how it is built. To my surprise they put in a little window and a heavy board door they were taking out for the new fort. The roof is of split logs laid flat and covered with pine branches, and as it won't thaw for a month there is no danger of the snow melting and running through. The chimney is built of slabs of green timber put across one corner, leaving a hole in the roof; and the sides and back of the fireplace of sheet iron, intended for the smithy. It may be crude, but we women folk—astonishing how clannish the life is making us—find it very comfortable, considering the long nights we have so often spent in the woods with a shelter not quarter so good.
"The journey from Bytown has been very weird to me, owing to my ague. Still, I can remember the facts, I think. After Harold, the Doctor and I started that first afternoon, we drove until nearly dark along the old Jesuit trail before we overtook the men. They were putting up the camp for the night, and had taken special care to provide for my comfort, so that next morning, notwithstanding another chill, I was ready to continue the journey. After that, for three whole days, we were guided by Iroquois Indians, cutting our way through the woods to Calabogie Lake. These red men of the forest are not very picturesque. We saw nothing of their feathers and wampun and war paint. Perhaps that is because we are so far from the frontier, where all the battles are fought. Their dress resembles that of the habitants, and they are proving themselves both friendly and trustworthy. Nearly every day they bring in fresh venison or bear meat for sale, and to-day we were astonished by a present from them of a huge elk.
"Strange, however, we rarely see the squaws. Perhaps it is because they know that our men are a body of warriors going through the country, who would have little use for women.
"How our soldiers rejoiced on being ordered to march on the ice of the Madawaska! The river in some places is wide, winding in and out through a rugged and open country, but the ice is thick and the surface smooth and without drifts, save occasionally near a sudden bend. So, except where the rapids interfered, we had steady marching and driving for days over a road of our own make, and not along the Jesuit trail. The great drawbacks are the depths of snow to be shovelled away or tramped down, and the wearisome windings of the river.