. But though keenly hungry, no man would
demean himself to do other than walk with apparent reluctance to his
place at the table. At the further end of the camp was a big fireplace,
and from the door of the fireplace extended the long board tables,
covered with platters of turkey not too scientifically carved, dishes of
potatoes, bowls of apple sauce, plates of butter, pies, and smaller
dishes distributed at regular intervals. Two lanterns hanging from the
roof and a row of candles stuck into the wall on either side by means of
slit sticks cast a dim, weird light over the scene.

There was a moment's silence, and at a nod from Graeme Mr. Craig rose
and said:

"I don't know how you feel about it, men, but to me this looks good
enough to be thankful for."

"Fire ahead, sir," called out a voice quite respectfully, and the
minister bent his head and said:

"For Christ the Lord who came to save us, for all the love and goodness
we have known, and for these Thy gifts to us this Christmas night, our
Father, make us thankful. Amen."

"_Bon!_ Dat's fuss rate," said Baptiste. "Seems lak dat's make me hit
[eat] more better for sure." And then no word was spoken for a quarter
of an hour. The occasion was far too solemn and moments too precious for
anything so empty as words. But when the white piles of bread and the
brown piles of turkey had for a second time vanished, and after the last
pie had disappeared, there came a pause and a hush of expectancy,
whereupon the cook and cookee, each bearing aloft a huge, blazing
pudding, came forth.

"Hooray!" yelled Blaney; "up wid yez!" and grabbing the cook by the
shoulders from behind, he faced him about.

Mr. Craig was the first to respond, and seizing the cookee in the same
way, called out: "Squad, fall in! quick march!" In a moment every man
was in the procession.

"Strike up, Batchees, ye little angel!" shouted Blaney, the appellation
a concession to the minister's presence; and away went Baptiste in a
rollicking French song with the English chorus--

Then blow, ye winds, in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, ay oh!
Blow, ye winds, in the morning,
Blow, blow, blow.

And at each "blow" every boot came down with a thump on the plank floor
that shook the solid roof. After the second round Mr. Craig jumped upon
the bench and called out:

"Three cheers for Billy the cook!"

In the silence following the cheers Baptiste was heard to say: