French River 
On the dry stones, partly protected by a clump 
of trees, the camp-fire burned cheerily, and 
we had a royal dinner, leaving the Cape Breton 
bread to the discussion of the birds. Dan 
had several sheaves of fresh-cut oats, purchased 
along the way, and we were all happy. 
There was not a house nor a human being 
in sight, only the sky, the cold brook, the 
splendid air, and the trees and birds for com- 
pany. Had we known as much then as we 
did later, we might have added brook trout 
to our feast. 
We lingered long, lying on the warm grass 
in the sun while Dan cropped about the bushes. 
The good fellow endeared himself to us quite 
as much through his faults as his virtues, — for 
his weaknesses were human like our own. 
He loved the midday rest. He knew when 
the time came, and sometimes even selected the 
spot. When he had had a pleasant time of long 
duration, he showed his appreciation by good- 
naturedly putting himself between the shafts, 
which it is the custom in Cape Breton to hold 
up above the horse ; but his opinion of an in- 
sufficient play spell he expressed by meanly 
stepping in sideways so that the shafts lay 
