g--we've smashed up
another bit of France!' How are we ever going to live with this people in
the same world after the war?"

And there below, in the heart of this remote English woodland, now being
sacrificed to the war, moved the sons of this very people, cast up here
by the tide of battle. Janet had heard that nobody spoke to them during
the work, except to give directions; after work they had their own wired
camp, and all intercourse between them and the Canadian woodmen, or the
English timber girls, was forbidden. But what were they saying among
themselves--what were they thinking--these peasants, some perhaps from
the Rhineland, or the beautiful Bavarian country, or the Prussian plains?
Janet had travelled a good deal in Germany before the war, using her
holidays as a mistress in a secondary school, and her small savings, in a
kind of wandering which had been a passion with her. She had known
Bavarians and Prussians at home. But here, in this corner of rural
England, with this veil of silence drawn between them and the nation
which at last, in this summer of 1918, was grimly certain, after four
years of vengeance and victory, what ferments were, perhaps, working in
the German mind?

Yes, there was the German camp, and beyond it under the hill the Canadian
forestry camp; whilst just beneath them could be seen the roof of the
large women's hostel.

Another exclamation from Rachel, as, on their left, another great tree
started for the bottom of the hollow.

"But haven't you seen all this before?" asked Janet.

"No, I never saw anything of lumbering."

The tone showed the sudden cooling and reserve that were always apparent
in Rachel's manner when any subject connected with Canada came into
conversation. Yet Janet had noticed with surprise that it was Rachel
herself who, when the harvest was nearly over, had revived the subject of
the camp, and planned the drive for this Saturday afternoon. It had
seemed to Janet once or twice that she was forcing herself to do it, as
though braving some nervousness of which she was ashamed.

The rough road on which they were driving wound gradually downward
through the felled timber. Soon they could hear the clatter of the
engine, and the hissing of the saws which seized the trees on their
landing, and cut and stripped them in a trice, ready for loading. Round
the engine and at the starting-place of the trolleys was a busy crowd:
lean and bronzed Canadians; women in leather b