"How intensely practical! Don't you know that canoeing in Penetang should be poetic?"
"So it is," she replied. "Coming over made me dream of canoeing with you in the long evenings over this very bay."
"Yes, dearest. That's one of the delights in store for us. But come and see where Sir George has decided to build the magazine."
Parting the underwood they were soon upon a little hill, the highest spot of the island. To the north was the mouth of the harbor; while to the south, over the tops of Chippewa wigwams, lay the upper end of the long, narrow bay.
"Can those Indians be trusted?" Helen asked.
"Yes, perfectly. They arrived and put up their tepees a few days ago. They come here to fish every spring and go away again in the summer."
"So they will remain for a while," said Helen with a slight shiver.
"Probably. But they are nomadic and may go any time. Some bright morning before you even think of it, they will fold their tents and glide away."
"What a lot of them there are!" said Helen, prosaically.
"Yes, there must be fifty at least, counting braves, squaws, papooses and all. Latimer says the men will be very useful to us, while they stay, as runners and guides."