In the Van or The Builders Part 35

"Please tell him, when you go down, that I shall be at the wharf to see him before they leave for dinner."

As the Doctor withdrew she entered the cottage. Emmiline was busily preparing wheaten dough for the oven. Her sleeves were turned up, her neck bare, and her dress fastened loosely at the girdle. A bright fire burned in the open fireplace, and in it a square sheet-iron oven had been placed to heat for the baking.

"How is the bread, Emmiline?" she asked as she opened the window a little wider.

"Oh, 'tees bon, Madame. Salt risin' good to-day. Yesterday mauvais bad.

Oven nice heat. Put right in now." And she dropped the dough into a square tin, patted it on the back, and placed it on the shelf in the oven.

"Now," she went on, "Je vatch de fire--not too 'ot--not too cole--jes'

de tres meedle."

"You must not work too hard, Emmiline."

"No fear, Madame. No fear 'tall. You jes' like Bateese; he al'us say tak' car', Emmiline, tak' car'. I only laugh. I strong an' work all de same."

"Still I want you to be wise. Mrs. Hardman will do any heavy lifting for you; and we cannot have you hurt yourself."

"I know dat--an' it ees nice to have de vemin's house so close. Dey be goot fellahs, bot'."

"When are they going to finish the room upstairs for you, Emmiline?"

"Oh, vere soon. De floor all right, de leetle window all right, and de laddare work goot. Bateese say not much mattare for more, now summare tam come."

Emmiline's cheeks were rosy again. She had not the sallow complexion so often seen; and moving so freely about the room, Helen's care for her seemed almost groundless.

The internal arrangements of the cottage were very simple. At one end were two rooms; the one, Harold and Helen's bedroom, the other, the store room, and in it the ladder to the upper story. The balance of the floor s.p.a.ce made the living apartment; and, in the meantime, Emmiline and Bateese would occupy the upper room until after the event was over.

After giving directions about dinner, Helen put on a Quaker sunbonnet, and tripped over the green turf down to the edge of the water, where men were driving cedar posts to support the crossbeams of the island bridge.

One gang were working close to the sh.o.r.e, another from a raft on the water, while a third were at similar work on the island beyond.

Captain c.u.mmings had charge of the sh.o.r.e gang and Harold the island one.

Helen did not know it until almost on the spot. If she had, she might have turned back.

"This is cheering, to be visited by the lady of the fort!" exclaimed c.u.mmings, lifting his hat, "a delightful and unlooked-for compliment."

"Thank you," returned Helen, lightly; "but I'm afraid the compliment was unintended. I thought Harold was on this side, and ran down to have a word with him."

"What? to have words with your husband? Lucky for him he is so far away," returned the Captain with a laugh.

"Oh, they will keep till he comes to dinner!" said Helen, declining to see his meaning.

"Madame!" exclaimed Bateese at her elbow, "I tak' you ovare in mine leetle canoe. See!" and he pointed to a birch-bark that he had bartered with an Indian for a few days before.

"Won't that be fine?" she returned, as she hastened to its side. "Are you sure you won't upset me?"

"Bateese nevare upset canoe, no nevare."

"Oh, I remember, you are the man that never upsets anything!"

Bateese's eyes twinkled. He remembered too.

In another minute they glided over the water to the spot where the men were working.

"'And Helen--alluring comes across the briny deep!'" exclaimed her husband.

"Quite a mistake, Harold! I tasted the water and there isn't a bit of brine in it."

"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."

"I suppose Sir George meant these Indians this morning when he spoke of sending the mail through the woods to Little York. But did you know that the Latimers intend to sail to-night?"

"Not positively, though I suspected as much."

"That is one reason that I came to see you. Would it be safe to send one of my letters on the boat; or must they all go by Little York?"

"It would be safer by land than water, even if slower. Still a non-committal letter might be risked if you are careful in the wording."

"It is just a little message to Maud Maxwell and could not implicate any one. I do so want to send a few words and get news from there. It seems like an age since we left; and if it is lost it will not matter much. I only sent one before, and that was from Montreal.

"Well, do as you like, dearest. But my men are wanting me. They don't know how to place that plank."

They parted the bushes and in another minute were at the water's edge again.

"V'eell Madame go back right vey?" Bateese asked.

"Wait a moment; those squaws want to speak to me."

Two Indian women, clothed in blanket, short skirt and moccasins had been waiting her return. The older one, with long black hair loose over her shoulders, resembled the tall handsome girl beside her, and looked old enough to be her mother. She touched Helen on the arm.