Getting into the canoe they arrived at the forks in due time, and found great activity in erecting buildings, while carts were arriving every few minutes from the Basin with supplies or leaving empty to reload. In every direction were soldiers encamped, and the evening being cold their fires crackled and blazed along the lines. The soldiers were of all kinds, from habitants in homespun blouses and blue tuques to regulars of the line. The noisiest were the volunteer regiments, composed of young men, lumbermen and city tradesmen, whose exuberant animal spirits the discomforts and privations of camp failed to tame, and where they were, screams, laughter, and singing resounded. Hemlock led the way to a large, white house, the home of an American settler, named Baker, but taken possession of for headquarters, and passing the guard as a privileged character, told the orderly he wanted to see the General. On enquiry, the two visitors were admitted into a good-sized room, in the centre of which was a large table, at which sat a thick-set officer of foreign aspect, Gen. deWatteville, his secretary, and Major Henry, who had succeeded Stovin as local commander. They were evidently engaged in examining regimental reports. “Hemlock, so you have got back? What news from the lines?” asked the Major. “Yankees will break camp tomorrow.” “How do you know? Have you any despatches from our spies?” “No, but I saw a waggon loaded with axes arrive at Fort Hickory.” “Well, what about that?” “The advance camp, nearest to here, is called Fort Hickory: the axes are to chop a road from there to our outposts on the Chateaugay.” DeWatteville became all attention. “How long would the road be?” “Three leagues,” answered Hemlock. “Pooh,” remarked the General, relapsing into indifference, “they cannot cut a road that long through the woods.” “You don’t know Yankee axemen,” said Hemlock, “they will do it in a day and turn your flank.” The General simply waved his hand contemptuously. Major Henry, knowing from past acquaintance, Hemlock’s worth and intelligence, asked in a respectful tone, “What do you advise?” “Send me with all the Indians and we will cut them off.” DeWatteville could not withhold a gesture of horror. “You would fall upon these axemen, you say are coming, butcher them with your hatchets and scalp them. Eh?” “Every one of them,” answered Hemlock in an exultant voice. “Faugh, that is not war; that is murder,” said the General, “we will fight the Americans in no such way.” “It is how they would deal with you,” said Hemlock, “but if you do not want the Indian to fight in the way of his fathers, he will leave you.” Henry here leant over and whispered into the General’s ear; who answered aloud, “No, I will not hear of it: I will fight as a soldier and will have no savagery.” The Major was evidently disconcerted, and changed the subject by asking Hemlock what led him so far from the lines as to visit Fort Hickory. “I followed Morton.”