July 8, 1917
12:45pm – A final note before I leave. I doubt I’ll have time to write much over the next few weeks so this might be my last entry for a while.
Shannon came down with the supplies I needed. He also said that Chubby has the cash locked up and he doesn’t know where he is. I felt a wave of panic wash over me, but I tried my best not to show anything to Shannon. This might be the last time he’ll ever see me. I have a reputation for disappearing without notice and showing up unannounced. I left last fall without saying a decent goodbye, so this wouldn’t be anything new.
I asked Shannon about the sketches. They’re still at the Trainors. Intact for now. Once I get the canoe packed up, I will paddle over and fetch them. I’ll take them with me, and where it is possible, I would ship them down to Dr. MacCallum in Toronto. I could probably ship them from Dwight or Lake of Bays. I can’t trust Shannon to do this for me.
It was raining as I packed up and I have put everything under the rubber sheet in the canoe. Shannon said he had to get out of the rain or he’d have to change his suit. Before I had a chance to bid him goodbye he started back towards the lodge.
Final things together before I push off. I’ll pull up to the Trainors to see about the sketches. I see Martin Jr. launching his putt putt boat. Looks like he might be going deer-hunting because Bessie is holding his rifle.
July 8, 1917
4:30am – It was a rooster’s crow that woke me on the verandah. I heard it from across or down the lake. Sound travels farther at night. The sun wouldn’t be rising for another hour, but the light was already in the eastern sky. I couldn’t see the morning star – Phosphorous was nowhere to be seen.
It was quite a night last night. A party at George Rowe’s with all the men with fists. We started the evening with George Rowe’s special concoction. The evening ended in an argument about conscription. Martin called me a “slacker” and he ended up on the wrong side of my fists. George and Shannon held me back before I could the administration of my fists. Martin kept yelling at me (screaming, actually), saying something like, “Don’t get in my way if you know what’s good for you!”
Then Shannon had an untoward comment about Winnie and I let loose at him. George tried to hold me back, but after a few punches I realized the futility of the situation and stopped.
I need to leave. I need to take care of a few things tomorrow. My sketches are still at the Trainor cottage. I’ll need to retrieve them and when I get to South River, I’ll need to send them down to Dr. MacCallum. Shannon mentioned last night that Hugh Trainor might get rid of them, so I need to get them out. Shannon also said that he managed to get some money together for me. He would give it to me tomorrow.
I plan to leave quietly. I am going to canoe the Oxtongue River and make it to the Lake of Bays. There are a number of lodges there, so I shouldn’t have a problem selling my canoe. After that I’ll make my way to South River by the July 14th.
It’s getting lighter and my mood is getting darker. I’ll make it back to my room and sleep the rest of the night off.