Every day my admiration and respect for the men grew. They were
gentle and considerate, not only of me, but of each other as well.
They had jolly good times together, and withal were most efficient.
Gilbert was proving a great worker, and enjoyed himself much with
the men. He was just a merry, happy-hearted boy. Joe was quiet
and thoughtful, with a low, rather musical voice, and a pretty,
soft Scotch accent for all his Russian name. He spoke English
quite easily and well. Job did not say much in English. He was
very reserved where I was concerned. I wanted to ask him a
thousand questions, but I did not dare. George was always the
gentle, fun-loving, sunny-tempered man my husband had admired.
Our camp was perhaps 100 feet above the river which here came down
from the northeast round the foot of Bald Mountain, and less than
half a mile below us bent away to the southeast. At the bend a
tributary stream came in from the northwest to merge itself in the
stronger tide, and together they flowed straight on at the foot of
a long, dark-wooded ridge. Here at this stream our portage route
led out from the river.
When the showers had passed we had supper, and as we sat at our
meal the sun came out again, throwing a golden glow over all.
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