"If it snows ye'll have to hire a sleigh and get back the first minute
you can." The reply was stern.

The elder and bigger man made no further comment. However much he might
desire to be kept in the gay world by the weather, the stronger will and
intellect, for the hour at least, dominated his intention.

They rowed their boat past the head of the river. In an hour they had
reached that part of the shore from which the inland road might be
gained. They again loaded the cart. It, like the boat, was of the
roughest description; its two wheels were broad and heavy; a long pole
was mortised into their axle. The coffin and the potash barrel filled
the cart's breadth; the sacks of buckwheat steadied the barrel before
and behind. The meek red oxen were once more fastened to it on either
side of the long pole. The men parted without farewells.

Saul turned his back on the water. The large, cold morning rang to his
voice--"Gee. Yo-hoi-ist. Yo-hoi-eest. Gee." The oxen, answering to his
voice and his goad, laboured onward over the sandy strip that bound the
beach, up the hill among the maple trees that grew thickly in the vale
of the small river. Bates watched till he saw the cattle, the cart, and
Saul's stalwart form only indistinctly through the numerous grey
tree-stems that broke the view in something the way that ripples in
water break a reflection. When the monotonous shouting of Saul's
voice--"Gee, gee, there. Haw, wo, haw. Yo-hoi-eest," was somewhat
mellowed by the widening space, Bates stepped into the boat, and,
pushing off, laboured alone to propel her back across the lake.

It took him longer to get back now that he was single-handed. The
current of the lake towards its outlet tended to push the great clumsy
scow against the shore. He worked his craft with one oar near the stern,
but very often he was obliged to drop it and push out from shore with
his pole. It was arduous, but all sense of the cold, bleak weather was
lost, and the interest and excitement of the task were refreshing. To
many men, as to many dogs, there is an inexplicable and unreasoning
pleasure in dealing with water that no operation upon land can yield.
Bates was one of these; he would hardly have chosen his present lot if
it had not been so; but, like many a dry character of his stamp, he did
not give his more agreeable sensations the name of pleasure, and
therefore could afford to look upon pleasure as an element unnecessary
to a sober life.