goin'?" he enquired.

"Going?"

"To the war. Guess some of our Canadian boys will be goin' likely, eh?"

"Going," cried Duff. "You bet your life I'm going. But, come on. We'll
talk as we eat. And we can't stay long, either."

Duff introduced the party.

"My name's McCuaig," said the stranger.

"Scotch, I guess?" enquired Duff.

"My father came out with The Company. I was born up north. Never been
much out, but I read the papers," he added quickly, as if to correct any
misapprehension as to his knowledge of the world and its affairs. "My
father always got the Times and the Spectator, and I've continued the
habit."

"Any one who reads the Times and the Spectator," said Barry, "can claim
to be a fairly well-read man. My father takes the Spectator, too."

As they sat down to supper, he noticed that McCuaig took off his old
grey felt and crossed himself before beginning toast.

As a matter of courtesy, Barry had always been asked to say grace before
meals while with the Howland party. This custom, however, had been
discontinued upon this trip. They had no time for meals. They had "just
grabbed their grub and run," as Harry Hobbs said.

While they ate, Duff kept a full tide of conversation going in regard to
the causes of the war and its progress, as reported in the papers. Barry
noticed that McCuaig's comments, though few, revealed a unique knowledge
of European political affairs during the last quarter of a century. He
noticed too that his manners at the table were those of a gentleman.

After supper they packed their stuff over the long portage, leaving
their tent and sleeping gear, with their food, however, to be taken in
the morning. For a long time they sat over the fire, Barry reading, for
McCuaig's benefit, the newspaper accounts of the Belgian atrocities, the
story of the smashing drive of the German hosts, and the retreat of the
British army from Mons.

"What," exclaimed McCuaig, "the British soldiers goin' back! Runnin'
away from them Germans!"

"Well, the Germans are only about ten to one, not only in men but in
guns, and in this war it's guns that count. Guns can wipe out an army of
heroes as easily as an army of cowards," said Duff.

"And them women and children," said McCuaig. "Are they killing them
still?"

"You're just right, they are," replied Duff, "and will till we stop
them."

McCuaig's eyes were glowing with a deep inner light. They were wonderful
eyes, quick, darting, straight-look