In a short time the men of the little column, as well as horses and sleighs, were gathered in an open space above the crest of the hill. On two sides and behind them the forest extended illimitably, while through the scattered trees in front, the surface of the bay stretched out for miles. It was here they purposed camping in temporary shanties and tents until permanent houses could be built.
A week's rest at Roche Lake had improved Helen's condition, and now with joy she welcomed the end of their long march.
"Home at last," cried Harold, as their sleigh stopped.
"Even if it is a snowbank," she responded with a laugh.
"Scarcely that bad," said Sir George, who overheard her. "I see two or three empty shanties yonder. They can be fixed a bit. And that little schooner may have accommodation, perhaps. We shall soon know."
The spot on which they stood was tramped hard by the many feet of the men, and Helen alighted.
"I wonder if there is a woman on board of her?" she questioned.
"If there is, she's had a winter of it," commented Harold, "though not as hard as you have had, dearie."
"I can sympathize with any of your sex now, our own women particularly," exclaimed Sir George, and extending his hand to Helen, he continued, "and I congratulate you, Mrs. Manning, most cordially, may I say affectionately, for the brave and noble fight you have put up during the whole of this terrible journey. We are all proud of you, and when I tell your uncle, Sir Charles, of the doings of the brave lady we took out to the west, he will simply be amazed."
Helen's cheeks flushed, and her eyes drooped as she murmured her thanks, but her thoughts were wandering off in another direction.