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Updated: May 16, 2025
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 chanting, danced an Indian war-dance.
With the exception of Pemecan, our comrades were all awake, sprawled about a blazing tire, and at sight of the meat we carried they set up a great shout. "Hush! you will rouse Miss Hatherton!" said I, for I saw that she had retired.
"The first thing will be supper," said I. "Baptiste, you and Carteret unpack the sledge. And do you build us a roaring fire, Pemecan." I went into another room for a moment it had been my own in times past and when I returned the Indian had already started a cheerful blaze.
Pemecan touched the spot with something like awe, and Christopher Burley followed his example. "This is a very odd thing," he muttered. "I wish I could take the plaster just as it is back to London with me." "I've seen nothing like it," declared Luke Hutter, "and I've lived in the wilderness, man and boy, for nigh onto fifty years."
I had eight men in mine, as follows: Captain Rudstone, Christopher Burley, an Indian employee named Pemecan, two voyageurs, Baptiste and Carteret, and three old servants of the company, by name Duncan Forbes, Malcolm Cameron, and Luke Hutter. Flora, of course, went with me, and she had made me radiantly happy by a promise to become my wife at Fort Charter, if the ceremony could be arranged there.
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