ily, even with enthusiasm, and I saw that they entered
fully into the spirit which had prompted me to make the proposal.

"I'm thinking it will be like old times," said Cameron. "It was a happy
life at Fort Royal, on the whole, sir. There's one thing we'll be
lacking for the day's pleasure--a stiff glass of grog all round."

"We'll manage to get along without it," I replied. "And now let's finish
up the work; there is plenty to do."

First of all we made a kettleful of warm water by melting snow, and I
handed a pannikin of it in to Flora, whom I had heard stirring for some
time. She bade me a sweet good-morning, and showed me a glimpse of her
pretty face round the corner of the door. Then some of us began to
prepare breakfast--we had found an ample supply of dish ware in the
fort--and others demolished a part of the stockade and brought the
timbers in for fuel. Captain Rudstone and I busied ourselves by making
the crevices of the door and windows secure against wind and sifting
snow. For once we dispensed with sentry duty, thinking it to be
unnecessary.

As breakfast was ready to be served, Flora tripped out of her little
room looking radiantly beautiful. When she learned that we were to stop
at the fort that day her eyes glowed with pleasure, and what I read in
them set my heart beating fast. Seated about the fire on benches and
rickety stools, we attacked the delicious slices of venison, the
steaming coffee, and the crisp cakes of cornmeal. Then, the dishes
washed and the room tidied a bit, we heaped the fire high and settled
ourselves for a long morning. Outside the wind howled and the whirling
snow darkened the air; inside was warmth and cheer and comfort.

Looking back to that day over the gulf of years, I can recall few
occasions of keener enjoyment. The security and comfort were in such
strong contrast to what we had lately suffered, that we abandoned
ourselves wholly to the pleasure of the passing moment. We forgot the
tragedies and sufferings that lay behind us, and gave no thought to what
the uncertain future might hold in store. For me the horizon was
unclouded. Flora was by my side, and I looked forward to soon calling
her my wife.

Luckily, we had plenty of tobacco, and wreaths of fragrant smoke curled
from blackened pipes. Baptiste and Carteret sang the dialect songs of
the wilderness; Duncan Forbes amused us with what he called a Highland
fling, and Pemecan, to the accompaniment of outlandish chanti