And truly even those wilderness women, with no culinary magazines or housekeeping hints, concocted very savory dishes. Their grater was of the rudest kind. A strip of tin through which a sharpened bit of iron was driven to make holes, the rough side put upward as it was fastened to a piece of board. On this they grated green corn all the summer and autumn. During the winter they boiled it on the ear until it was soft, then prepared it the same way. The cakes were mixed with eggs and flour and baked on a hot flat stone in the heat of the coals. A syrup made of maple sugar would be poured over them. “Yes, I am very sorry—and hungry,” laughing. “There was so much to talk about.” “And was any one lost? Where did they find the boats?” Renée was all eagerness. “There were only two. The rest were swept away. They took shelter in Pirate Creek, but the pirates have been cleaned out. It might have been worse. The losses can be recouped. Ah, you should have seen the joy of Christophe Baugenon over his sweetheart! Madame Galette, and Madame Gardepier with her little girl.” “She is quite old now,” said Renée, with the assurance of youth that is its own hasty judge. “Oh, no! Five or six and twenty. And her little girl is about three, a pretty child. Madame Renaud was wild with delight, as who would not be. And she begs that we will come soon.” Renée had busied herself with a pretence of getting the meal, but it was Mère Lunde who had toasted the corn cake and the dried fish. It seemed to her as if a tiny shade had fallen over the world, but no, the sun was shining with extraordinary brilliancy. It made the leaves outside scatter its golden rays about as if they were sprites dancing. “The blessed Virgin has been very good to her,” said Mère Lunde, crossing herself. “Such a fearful time! I hope there never will be another. And Madame Galette. I knew her years ago. She has two good sons left.” An event like this made talk for days, especially as the men were busy repairing damages, and the captains had to tell their stories over and over. Then the next relay of boats came in with the news of the other towns, and that families were resolving to emigrate. Indeed, before cold weather set in quite a number of families had reached St. Louis, and many a winter evening was devoted to a recount of dangers and wonderful escapes, the destruction of many a small fortune.