“Say, brother,” Cap said, “you better be careful how you talk about Congress! There’s a law against it!”

The man laughed bitterly. “Wait till you been up here a few hours before you start telling me how to talk about Congress! Wait till you begin to look around for food! That’s my job, carrying food! We carry in half enough to feed them that’s here. Just half enough! There ain’t money to buy more! Congress ain’t got none! No money and no brains, neither—sending men up here without giving ’em no way to keep alive! And more men to come, too: four regiments! Four more regiments, under Sullivan, due to leave Albany any day; due to come up here and holler for food that nobody ain’t got!”

Nason’s canoe, with Doc Means riding in the high curved bow, came up astern. Tom Bickford swung her alongside; and the middlemen laid their paddles across our gunwale to keep the bark sides from chafing.

Cap Huff emitted an indignant bellow. “No food, he says, Stevie! No food, by God, and we can’t go to Quebec! This is a hell of a war!”

Nason seemed to ponder the words, and the rest of us were silent, contemplating the dark forests through which this broad stream relentlessly hurried us.

It was the man at the swivel gun who broke the silence. “I should say it was a hell of a war, thanks to your damned New Englanders!”

We transferred our attention from the forests to him. He fingered his gun and spoke defensively. “That’s what it was: your damned New Englanders! Three weeks ago they sat outside of Quebec, pinching their pennies and stealing each other’s food, same as ever. Then, by God, Carleton opened the gate and popped out at ’em; and the New Englanders, they’re running yet! Left their guns and camp kettles: left all their ammunition and medicines: left the food in the kettles, even, so’s they could run their heads off! Some of ’em ran all the way around Montreal, so Arnold wouldn’t catch ’em; and some of ’em ran through the woods, all the way back to New England! You’ll find some of ’em up around Lake Superior, still running, prob’ly! Look at these folks on shore, the way they act! They won’t have nothing to do with us, since your damned New Englanders started running!”

Cap rubbed his face as if to clear it of insects. “You’re a liar! If they did any running, they did it because the Yorkers started it! Where you from? New York?”

The man laughed derisively. “New York? Not me! I’m from a real place! I’m from Pennsylvania.”