Fort George suffered a sugar
famine. Two days later, the belated freight arrived. He loaded his
wagon, a ton of goods for himself, a like weight of Hazel's supplies
and belongings. A goodly load, but he drove out of Fort George with
four strapping bays arching their powerful necks, and champing on the
bit.
"Four days ve vill make it by der ranch," Jake chuckled. "Mit der mule
und Gretchen, der cow, von veek it take me, mit half der loat."
Four altogether pleasant and satisfying days they were to Hazel. The
worst of the fly pests were vanished for the season. A crisp touch of
frost sharpened the night winds. Indian summer hung its mellow haze
over the land. The clean, pungent air that sifted through the forests
seemed doubly sweet after the vitiated atmosphere of town. Fresh from
a gridiron of dusty streets and stone pavements, and but stepped, as
one might say, from days of imprisonment in the narrow confines of a
railway coach, she drank the winey air in hungry gulps, and joyed in
the soft yielding of the turf beneath her feet, the fern and pea-vine
carpet of the forest floor.
It was her pleasure at night to sleep as she and Bill had slept, with
her face bared to the stars.
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