That journey was never forgotten, and not forgotten easily was the welcome extended to the chilly travellers by the warm-hearted Irish family they counted their nearest neighbours. Stephanie was to sleep at the house, and all the evening she discussed matters with the eldest daughter, bright-faced, soft-tongued Nonie O'Brien—matters dear to the hearts of girls; and Nonie exhibited with speechless pride the never-worn dress of rose-pink tabinet, less pink than her own cheeks, which her father had brought her from distant Cobourg on her last birthday.
Meanwhile, the men and boys had taken the kettles to the sugar-bush, stabled the horses afterwards, then returned to the bush and built the rough shelter of boughs they were to inhabit for the nine or ten days of their stay. This finished, they rolled themselves in their blankets, and were almost instantly asleep, too tired even to snore.
The next morning the sugar-making began. Notches were cut in the trees, and below these the cedar spiles were driven in, down which the sap trickled into little troughs set for the purpose. Several times during the day the sap was all gathered in buckets, carried at the end of a yoke which was placed across the shoulders, and taken to the great store-troughs. The iron kettles slung over the fires had to be kept full and constantly watched, until the sap should turn to syrup; and then came the "sugaring-off."
Everyone was kept busy almost every hour of the twenty-four, for the sugar-making went on day and night. And on one particular night, about a week after his arrival, Dick was chosen to sit up and keep watch until two o'clock in the morning, filling the kettles and replenishing the fires when necessary.
He was quite willing to do so. And after the others had had their evening meal at the homestead, and had returned to the shelter and to peaceful but noisy slumbers, he cheerfully began his vigil.
There was no comfortable log at hand, he decided, so he scratched a hole in the snow, lined it with small twigs and pieces of bark, placed a folded blanket over all, and then settled himself in his nest with complete satisfaction. He had the happy faculty of adapting himself to his surroundings, and so was seldom uncomfortable, whatever other people might be.
The woods were dark, a vast and shadowy background of gloom to the wavering circle of firelight. The calm stars looked down between the dark twigs of the upper branches, and the snow showed red and full of uncertain gleams in the flicker of the flames. It was all empty and still, and the silence at first seemed unbroken; but, owing perhaps to the breeze and the recent thaw, on carefully listening the forest was full of very slight sounds—sounds as if living things were moving about in it with infinite caution and stealth. It was a disturbing idea, and Dick was glad of the heavy breathing of his comrades in the shelter for company.
The time passed on, and the nest in the snow was very comfortable indeed. The woods were still full of those ghostly rustlings, but after a while Dick ceased to notice them, and it is probable that he was asleep.
But whether he was asleep or not, about midnight he roused quickly enough, with the instinct that someone was near him. Owing to his wild training, he had enough of the savage in him to lie perfectly still and listen for several minutes before moving. The noise that must have awakened him was not repeated, but there seemed to be an increase in those faint, ghostly rustlings and whisperings and half-heard stealthy footfalls, so at last he climbed reluctantly out of his cosy nest and built up all the fires.
Having done this, he settled himself once more in the blanket-lined hollow. The fires were now beds of leaping flame beneath the bubbling kettles of sap, and the shifting light made it difficult to distinguish objects at a little distance. But Dick had sharp eyes; and soon he had gained the knowledge that someone, he knew not who, was crouching on the opposite side of the fire nearest his nest in the snow!