Another exclamation from Rachel, as, on their left, another great tree started for the bottom of the hollow.

“But haven’t you seen all this before?” asked Janet.

“No, I never saw anything of lumbering.”

The tone showed the sudden cooling and reserve that were always apparent in Rachel’s manner when any subject connected with Canada came into conversation.  Yet Janet had noticed with surprise that it was Rachel herself who, when the harvest was nearly over, had revived the subject of the camp, and planned the drive for this Saturday afternoon.  It had seemed to Janet once or twice that she was forcing herself to do it, as though braving some nervousness of which she was ashamed.

The rough road on which they were driving wound gradually downward through the felled timber.  Soon they could hear the clatter of the engine, and the hissing of the saws which seized the trees on their landing, and cut and stripped them in a trice, ready for loading.  Round the engine and at the starting-place of the trolleys was a busy crowd:  lean and bronzed Canadians; women in leather breeches and coats, busily measuring and marking; a team of horses showing silvery white against the purple of the hill; and everywhere the German prisoner lads, mostly quite young and of short stature.  The pony carriage passed a group of them, and they stared with cheerful, furtive looks at the two women.

Then the group of timber girls below perceived the approaching visitors, and a figure, detaching itself from the rest, came to meet the carriage.  A stately woman, black-haired, in coat and breeches like the rest, with a felt hat, and a badge of authority, touches of green besides on the khaki uniform.  Janet recognized her at once as Mrs. Fergusson, their comrade for a time at college, and much liked both by her and Rachel.

She came laughing, with hands outstretched.

“Well, here we meet again!  Jolly to see you!  A new scene, isn’t it?  Life doesn’t stand still nowadays!  One of my girls will take the carriage for you.”

A stalwart maiden unharnessed the pony and let him graze.

Mrs. Fergusson took possession of her visitors, and walked on beside them, describing the different stages of the work, and sections of the workers.

“You see those tall fellows farthest off?  Those work the saws and cut up the trees as they come down.  Then the horses bring them to the rollers, and the Canadians guide them with those hooks till the crane seizes hold of them and lifts them on to the trolley.  But before the hooks get them—­you see the girls there?—­they do all the measuring; they note everything in their books and they mark every log.  All the payments of the camp, the wages paid, the sums earned by the trolley contractor who takes them to the station, the whole finance in fact, depends on the women.  I’ve trained scores besides and sent them out to other camps!  But now come, I must introduce you to the commandant of the camp.”