Toward Cape Breton 
the wayside. A tiny cottage stood on a hill- 
top near the track ; and in the dooryard sat 
an old man and an old woman, at work upon 
something, we could not see what. As the 
train swept past, the old man stood erect and, 
raising both arms above his head, waved fran- 
tically. The engine responded with a shrill 
salute, whereupon the old man bent himself in 
a profound courtesy almost to the earth. We 
flew on wondering, and presently Sandy an- 
nounced " Harbour au Bouche " with a queer 
Scotch accent to the French name. We were 
less interested in Harbour au Bouche than in 
Cape Porcupine, a bold headland higher than 
Blomidon, and, one should think, worthy of a 
more dignified title, for while one is willing to 
allow picturesqueness to a porcupine, no one 
would think of claiming dignity for that spiny 
act of nature. Cape Porcupine was outHned 
against the blue sea, and in a few moments we 
reached that sea, and also Port Mulgrave, the 
end of the road. 
We stood upon Canso's shore gazing across 
at Cape Breton, the goal of our desire. The 
Gut of Canso it is that makes an island of 
Cape Breton. 
157 
