The Legends of Lake on the Mountain Read Online Free Page B

his father happily talking to customers. That always put him in a great mood.
    The perfect time to see if George and I can get out of here.
    A movement caught John’s eye. He looked diagonally across the tiny village toward Pringle’s General Store. Stone Mills was small enough that everyone could see what others were doing if they were outside and paying attention.
    A baby-faced man with large eyes and a small nose and chin stepped out onto the porch, closely followed by the store’s proprietor, Hannah Pringle. John recognized the man as Darius Marshall, a farmer from the top of the mountain. Darius and Hannah said something to one another and then the farmer hopped up onto his wagon. It became obvious he was directing his team of horses toward the Macdonald’s mill. “Is he coming here?” asked George.
    John sighed. “I think so. Looks like a full load.”

Chapter 4

    Darius
    John watched Hannah Pringle linger for a moment on her porch before returning inside. Darius Marshall couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled his team up alongside the mill. That didn’t necessarily mean he was happy. Many people who knew him said it was more of a facial tick than a smile. He just couldn’t control it.
    The horses made restful sounds as they were tied to a post. Darius, a middle-aged man with a younger man’s stride, hopped to the ground. His smile was pasted firmly to his baby-shaped face.
    â€œHowdy boys – well look at you two now. You look like someone just drank your last cup of tea, yes siree. That’s what we Brits drink all the time, right?”
    John and George exchanged glances. British people didn’t often refer to themselves as Brits. John also realized he didn’t seem to know George had a French background, not British.
    â€œWe’re fine, Mr. Marshall, sir,” said John. “We’re ready to work.”
    â€œI see, I see,” he said, scratching his smooth chin while reading John’s face. “You young fellows were about to leave this place and find something fun to do. And then I pull up and ruin everything. Tell you what, I’m not one to wreck anyone’s good time so let’s work together quickly on this. If anyone else tries to drop their grain off, well…I’ll give them the evil eye, like this.” He rolled his eyes around in his head and John and George laughed.
    Darius Marshall had moved from York – which some folks still called Toronto – to Stone Mills about a year ago. But John didn’t know why he had ever left York for such a rural life.
    The round-faced farmer was strong and swift in his movements. He worked quickly with John and George and within twelve minutes the wheat had been stacked along the back wall in the mill.
    â€œThank ya kindly, boys,” he said. He reached into his pocket and tossed an American five-cent piece to each of them.
    â€œWow, thank you Mr. Marshall,” said John.
    â€œYes, thank you,” echoed George.
    John had long observed that Upper Canada was a medley of currencies. One never knew what to expect when it came time for payment. John had seen his father paid in American bank notes and coins, Bank of Montreal dollar notes from Lower Canada or British pound notes from the Bank of Upper Canada. Even copper coins and tokens of differing quality were still accepted, despite discouragement from the banks. John knew his father would take them. The most common form of exchange was simply to barter.
    Darius looked up and down the dusty path of a road. “Looks like you two are freer than songbirds,” he announced. “That is, if you can convince your father.”
    John ran inside the mill again and found his father still talking to his customers. He easily got permission to spend time with George and they flew out of the mill. Darius, still smiling, tipped his hat to John and George as they ran by.
    Their immediate destination had changed with money in