Thus provisioned and clothed, and thus armed with implements of industry, the old soldiers advanced to the attack of a last enemy, the wild woods. Unlike any previous warfare, was this lifetime struggle. With location ticket in hand, they filed into the batteaux to ascend the rapids. A certain number of batteaux joined together, generally about twenty or twenty-five, formed a brigade, which was placed under the command of a suitable officer; if not one who had in previous days, led them against the foe. It is quite impossible to conceive of the emotions which found a place in the breasts of the old veterans as they journeyed along wearily from day to day, each one bringing them nearer to the spot on which the tent was to be pitched for the last time. Eagerly, no doubt, they scanned the thickly wooded shores as they passed along. Curiously they examined the small settlement, clustering around Cataraqui. And, it cannot be doubted, when they entered the waters of the lovely Bay Quinté, the beauty of the scene created a feeling of joy and reconciliation to their lot, in being thus cast upon a spot so rich in natural beauty. These disbanded soldiers, at least each family, had a canvass tent capable of accommodating, in a certain way, from eight to ten persons. These were pitched upon the shore, at first in groups, until each person had learned the situation of his lot, when he immediately removed thereto. But there were by no means enough tents to give cover to all, and many had only the friendly trees for protection. The first steps taken were to clear a small space of trees, and erect a place of habitation. We have seen what were the implements he had to work with—the materials he must use to subdue the forest tree standing before him.