He smoked and talked with the men now by virtue of his fourteen years, his broad shoulders and his knowledge of husbandry.  Eight years ago he had begun to care for the stock, and to replenish the store of wood for the house with the aid of his little sled.  Somewhat later he had learned to call Heulle!  Heulle! very loudly behind the thin-flanked cows, and Hue!  Dia!  Harrie! when the horses were ploughing; to manage a hay-fork and to build a rail-fence.  These two years he had taken turn beside his father with ax and scythe, driven the big wood-sleigh over the hard snow, sown and reaped on his own responsibility; and thus it was that no one disputed his right freely to express an opinion and to smoke incessantly the strong leaf-tobacco.  His face was still smooth as a child’s, with immature features and guileless eyes, and one not knowing him would probably have been surprised to hear him speak with all the deliberation of an older and experienced man, and to see him everlastingly charging his wooden pipe; but in the Province of Quebec the boys are looked upon as men when they undertake men’s work, and as to their precocity in smoking there is always the excellent excuse that it afford some protection in summer against the attacking swarms of black-flies, mosquitos and sand-flies.

“How nice it would be to live in a country where there is hardly any winter, and where the earth makes provision for man and beast.  Up here man himself, by dint of work, must care for his animals and his land.  If we did not have Esdras and Da’Be earning good wages in the woods how could we get along?”

“But the soil is rich in these parts,” said Eutrope Gagnon.

“The soil is good but one must battle for it with the forest; and to live at all you must watch every copper, labour from morning to night, and do everything yourself because there is no one near to lend a hand.”

Mother Chapdelaine ended with a sigh.  Her thoughts were ever fondly revisiting the older parishes where the land has long been cleared and cultivated, and where the houses are neighbourly-her lost paradise.

Her husband clenched his fists and shook his head with an obstinate gesture.  “Only you wait a few months ...  When the boys are back from the woods we shall set to work, they two, Tit’Be, and I, and presently we shall have our land cleared.  With four good men ax in hand and not afraid of work things will go quickly, even in the hard timber.  Two years from now there will be grain harvested, and pasturage that will support a good herd of cattle.  I tell you that we are going to make land.”

“Make land!” Rude phrase of the country, summing up in two words all the heartbreaking labour that transforms the incult woods, barren of sustenance, to smiling fields, ploughed and sown.  Samuel Chapdelaine’s eyes flamed with enthusiasm and determination as he spoke.