Free The Legends of Lake on the Mountain by Roderick Benns

the moment, we are in a holding position and I feel that I must explore it, provided it appears safe to do so. I do not think the British have any real numbers of men here. As much as I love the open water, it will be good to feel the land beneath my feet for awhile.
    I think of you often and I hope each day that I will be home with you soon.
    With all my love,
    Joseph Fortin

Chapter 11

    Devil’s Lake
    Supper was awkward. Before splitting up to go home, John, George and Lou had agreed to remain silent about what they had seen. Instead, John had said they had simply fallen in the lake after having gotten into a good natured shoving match with one another. John took the mild scolding compared to the alternative of being banned from the lake.
    But why would he ever want to go back anyway? He tried to focus on dinner. What he had seen less than an hour ago would not leave his mind. Anxious sweat trickled down his right temple and he brushed it away. He tried to tune in to the conversation.
    â€œHow are you faring these days?” asked Helen.
    â€œOh, the ague knocks me down sometimes,” said the colonel, “but I just keep getting up again.” “What’s ague?” asked Lou.
    â€œChills and sometimes fever,” said Helen. “I imagine it’s not pleasant.”
    The colonel waved his hand to dismiss any more talk about his health. “Never mind me. Kingston’s in a fine mess right now.”
    Helen nodded. “It’s the typhoid, isn’t it? We heard from Cornelius.”
    He nodded grimly. “Seems like it’s everywhere. So far we’ve been untouched. I’m glad to see you’re all doing well here.”
    John knew typhoid was a terrible disease, which often began with high fevers and diarrhoea so severe it often resulted in death.
    â€œHow’s Allan these days?” Helen asked, referring to the colonel’s grown son.
    Colonel Macpherson shook his head in disbelief. “You know Allan – he’s the social point for the whole clan up there in Napanee – ever since he built that big home. He’s doing mighty well for himself.”
    A long silence occurred and John sensed they were no longer thinking about typhoid or the colonel’s son. When the colonel and Hugh Macdonald sat at the same table, supper was bound to end up being tense. They always had to get through the same conversation they had been having for years.
    â€œHow’s the flour-milling business, Hugh?” asked the colonel. He was an intimidating figure in his full uniform, sitting stiffly and cutting his last piece of venison with precision. His trim, silver moustache moved with his chewing.
    â€œCouldn’t be better,” said Hugh. He dug into his last bite of boiled potato.
    More silence. John concentrated on the three bunches of onions and herbs drying from the ceiling beams as he chewed, not fully there. He was nearly finished anyway. “You know, I don’t know why you ever left good old Kingston,” said Lieutenant Colonel Macpherson. “It has what anyone needs.”
    â€œI remember – except for customers,” said Hugh.
    â€œMaybe that had to do with how things were run.”
    Hugh, who had changed careers several times, including as a shopkeeper in Kingston, put his fork down and looked at the colonel. Helen got up to get the teapot from the trivet on the counter, bustling more than usual as if to put distance between her and the conversation. “Why are you here, Donald?” asked Hugh. “The news sheet? There’s no printer in Stone Mills so I don’t know where it’s coming from.”
    The colonel raised an eyebrow. “This goes beyond a news sheet. Other things are happening – things which I’m not at liberty to talk about. Let’s just say there’s good reason to be vigilant.”
    John watched his father stab a green bean. “I’m not even saying I agree with the