“He’ll see plenty of the latter at Bear River.”
Desiré looked questioningly at her brother.
“That is,” he replied, “if we get there in time for the Cherry Festival, day after tomorrow.”
“Oh, Jack, can we?”
“Going to try hard to make it.”
Clouds had been slowly gathering since noon, and about five o’clock great drops of rain hit the dusty road with little “plops.”
“Big drops; won’t last long,” prophesied Desiré; but Jack let down the curtains at the side of the seat, and drew out a rubber blanket to spread over their laps. Before they had covered two miles, the rain was coming down in earnest, and Jack turned off the road into the pine woods.
“Wonder if we can keep dry here,” he said, half to himself. “Can’t possibly get to the next town tonight.”
“We’ll have supper right away before the rain begins to come through the trees,” decided Desiré, jumping out.
The pine-covered ground was still dry, and it was very cosy under the thick boughs of the tall trees. The persistent patter of the rain and the murmuring of a brisk little breeze in the tree tops added to their sense of comfort and security.
“If it doesn’t rain any harder than this, we should be able to manage pretty well,” said Desiré encouragingly, as Jack peered anxiously skyward every little while.
Conversation turned upon the book Miss Robin had given Desiré, and then drifted to Nova Scotian history.
“I’m awfully stupid; but it seems to me such a hopeless jumble,” sighed Desiré.
“Maybe I can straighten it out for you by taking bare facts, and not going into detail at all,” said Jack. “Just think of it this way,” he went on. “About the year 1000 a man called Leif the Lucky came here from Iceland, found the country in the possession of the Micmac Indians, and left it to them.
“John Cabot touched here in 1497, and claimed the land for England. In 1606 Samuel de Champlain and some other Frenchman settled at Annapolis Royal, which they called Port Royal. A few years later the English destroyed it, and some of the inhabitants fled to the shores of the Basin of Minas and built the village of Grand Pré.”
“Oh, where Evangeline lived!” interrupted Priscilla.
“Yes, and where they all lived until 1747, that is, the French who were driven out of Port Royal.”
“And what made the English drive those people away from their homes?” inquired Priscilla. “I don’t mean from Port Royal, but from Grand Pré, like Longfellow tells about in Evangeline?”
“They thought the French people were not loyal to the British government; for the country then belonged to England. To go back to our story, in 1629 the King of Scotland gave the entire country to a friend of his, and the name was changed from Acadia to Nova Scotia, which means New Scotland. From that time until 1710 the land was claimed by both France and England, and was in possession of first one and then the other. Finally Great Britain secured it for good. Is it any clearer now?”
“Oh, yes, lots; you make everything so plain, I wish I knew as much as you do,” sighed Desiré admiringly.
“I hope some day you will know lots more,” smiled Jack, adding, “I’m afraid we’re in for a wetting. I have felt several splashes of rain. The trees are getting so heavy with water that it will shower down upon us before long.”
“Then you simply can’t sleep in the tent,” said Desiré decidedly.
“Nothing else for it; there’s no room in the wagon.”
“Let me think a minute,” said Desiré. “I have it! We’ll push the trunk and box side by side and put René on them, at our feet; and you can sleep on the wagon seat. You’ll have to double up, but it will be better than getting so damp in the tent.”
“We didn’t count on a pour like this while we were on the road,” said Jack. “Too bad we were not near enough to a town to get lodgings.”
“But we could hardly afford that; and besides, this is going to be lots of fun. Priscilla, you and René run up and down in that dry path over there while we fix things,” directed Desiré.
“The boughs will be too wet to use for beds,” said Jack, moving the trunk close to the box at the very back of the wagon.
“We’ll just spread the blankets on the floor, then,” declared Desiré, briskly.
“But you’ll be wretchedly uncomfortable,” objected her brother.
“Won’t hurt us a bit once in a while. I’ll hang this rubber blanket in front of the seat, and a sheet back of it; and with the side curtains down, and a blanket to spread over you, you’ll be fairly well off, won’t you?” she asked, working rapidly as she talked.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t bother about me.”
When everything was ready, they called the two children and settled down for the night.
“Don’t be frightened if you hear a noise once in a while,” said Jack, as they settled down; “for I shall have to turn around occasionally to stretch my legs.”
“Yes, poor boy; they are far too long for your bed tonight. I hope Renny won’t roll off the trunk; but if he does, he’ll fall on top of us and won’t be hurt.”
“Oh, let’s go—to—sleep—” yawned Priscilla.
“An excellent idea,” agreed Jack; and the little family lay quietly listening to the drip of the rain until they fell asleep.
All night long Desiré dreamed of papering the old Godet house, inside and out, with mysterious figures and letters, which fell off as fast as she pasted them onto it.
The sun was shining brightly as they drove down the hillside at Bear River the second morning after, and into the ravine where dyked lands border the river. Hundreds of cherry trees loaded with brilliant fruit were on every side, and on the water was clustered the craft of those who were to take part in the sports later in the day.
“What funny river banks,” commented Priscilla.
“The ground is below the level of the river,” explained Jack; “and the banks have to be built up of interlaced tree trunks filled in with clay to keep the water from running over the land. They are called dykes.”
“Indians!” cried René, full of excitement, pointing to a group nearby.
Already great numbers of them had come from a neighboring reservation for the games. Under the heavily loaded trees, people from far and wide wandered about, tasting first one variety of fruit and then another. Groups of tourists watched from the roadside, or took part in the feasting.
Jack found a safe place for the wagon, and, after locking it, took his little family to obtain their share of the cherries which are free to all on that particular day in mid-July each year. Shortly before noon, they carried their lunch to a shady slope from which they had a good view of the place where the sports were to be held. By two o’clock, the fun was in full swing. All kinds of races, on both land and water; throwing contests; log rolling tests; and games of skill or endurance. Anyone could take part, and Desiré urged Jack to enter some of them; but he preferred to remain a spectator. He loved all kinds of sports, and was perfectly fearless; but the chance of possible injury now, when he was the head of the family, kept him from taking part. The Indians were the most clever participants, and frequently won, much to René’s delight.
“The youngster sure likes the Indians,” observed a man who sat next to Jack. “Used to be scared of ’em when I was a kid. You ought to take him to the St. Anne’s celebration some time.”
“What’s