The wagon was well loaded with boards and other building material, including the inevitable tarpaper, and the next morning we were about to start construction work when Jack dropped an armful of two-by-fours with a sudden exclamation.
"I clean forgot," he said. "They told me in town yesterday that it was Saturday. This must be Sunday."
As you know, Jack and I had been brought up with good old Ontario ideas of the sanctity of the Sabbath. It was not surprising that he should drop his burden where he stood, and that his face, when he turned to me, had written on it something almost akin to dismay.
"Must be," I said, laying down my shovel.
For some moments we stood trying to drink in the significance of the fact, and realizing for the first time what an artificial thing the calendar is. This morning was exactly like the other mornings of the week; a burst of golden dawn, a sea of diamond dew-drops, a rollicking breeze out of the West, a wisp of feathery cloudland far above. There was nothing about it to suggest that it was more holy than its neighbors.
"Fact is," said I at last, "I begin to think we must have missed one Sunday altogether."
"I'm afraid we did," Jack admitted, contritely. "Let's tell the girls."
Accordingly we bore to them the great information. All work was discontinued, and we lounged about, trying to feel good. It was one of the longest days I can remember.
Next day we set about our building in earnest. I wish I dared weary you with the detail of the operations; the twanging of the saw in the new boards, the thwack of the hammer on the bright nails, the smell of cedar sawdust and of tarpaper, the sheer joy of creation as we saw our home rise tier by tier from the bare bosom of the plain. There were no Union hours with us. We worked from early morning until after sunset, and laid down our tools at last with affectionate reluctance. We were stiff and sore in every joint and muscle; our hands were caloused and our finger nails were battered with misdirected energy, but our hearts were with the gods. I relate only absolute truth in saying that when our shack was finished we moved into it with a sense of accomplishment such as perhaps no king ever knew amid the luxury of his palaces.
As soon as our first building was finished we started a similar one for Jack and Jean. Then we built a little stable down in the gully for the oxen, the cow, the pig, and the hens; we improved the crossing of the stream; we dug a well; we plowed a small area on each farm and planted it to oats, and then we went on plowing for next season's crop; we bought a mowing-machine and rake—on credit—and cut an ample supply of wild prairie hay for our winter needs. We had decided that, as fall came on, Jack and I, with the yoke of oxen, should make a pilgrimage into the more settled districts with a view to getting work with some farmer, and so replenishing our resources.