At the break of day Duff was awakened by the smell of something frying. Over the fire bent McCuaig, busy preparing a breakfast of tea, bacon and bannocks, together with thick slices of fat pork.
Breakfast was eaten in haste. The day's work was before them, and there was no time for talk. In a very few minutes they stood ready for their trip across the portage.
With them stood McCuaig. His blanket roll containing his grub, with frying-pan and tea-pail attached, lay at his feet; his rifle beside it.
For a moment or two he stood looking back up the stream by which, last night, he had come. Then he began tying his paddles to the canoe thwarts in preparation for packing it across the portage.
As he was tying on the second paddle, Duff's eye fell on him.
“What's up, McCuaig?” he said. “Aren't you going up to the Post?”
“No, I guess I ain't goin' up no more,” replied McCuaig slowly.
“What do you mean? You aren't going back home?”
“No. My old shack will do without me for a while, I guess.--Say,” he continued, facing around upon Duff and looking him squarely in the face, “this young chap says”--putting his hand upon Barry's shoulder--“Britain is going to have a hell of a time licking Germany back into her own orbut. Them papers said last night that Canada was going in strong. Do you think she could use a fellow like me?”
“What! Do you mean it, McCuaig?” said Duff at length.
The man turned his thin, eagle face toward the speaker, a light in his eyes.
“Why, ain't you goin'? Ain't every one goin' that can? If a fellow stood on one side while his country was fightin', where would he live when it's all over? He read out of the papers that them Germans were shootin' women and children. So--” his face began to work, “am I goin' to stand by and ask some one else to make 'em quit? No, by God!”
The men stood watching his face, curiously twisted and quivering. Then without a word Duff seized his pack, and swung into the trail, every man following him in his order. Without pausing, except for a brief half hour at noon, and another later in the day for eating, they pressed the trail, running what rapids they could and portaging the others, until in the early evening they saw, far away, a dirty blur on the skyline.