That spring Dad contracted to clear right-of-way and put in railroad grade in a section of railway that was to be laid at the end of the line. [The Alberta and Great Waterways Railway began construction from Lac La Biche to Waterways in 1917. The project was completed in 1920 (Woywitka, 1972). Ray White's contract was for the spring of 1920 (Woodard, 1987)] Before we left St. Paul de Metis, when Ray got the mumps, he was so swollen and miserable that one day as he sat on the front steps, elbows on knees and holding his poor aching swollen jaws, I told Mom, "I sure hope I don't get them, if I do I think I'll just hide under the bed." Soon he was well and we were packed and ready to travel to Lac La Biche where we would take the train to the end of the line. It was a hot, dusty trip. We had two or three wagon loads and Paul and I were on horseback driving a few head of milk cows. I was so hot and miserable and thirsty. I really didn't feel a bit good. By the time we got there I had such a headache and sore throat, I didn't care what happened. The hotel was full. The only place we could find to stay was rooms above the Chinese Café. Everyone was waiting for the morning train as it was the first time passengers had been taken that far north. This would be a mixed train, mostly freight, but a few passenger cars hooked in with them.

I tossed and turned all night and thought I would surely burst with flames, I was so hot. When I woke up the next morning, you guess it! I had the mumps. Such a trip I never made before or since! It was hot, so the windows were open and the smoke rolled in from the engine so we were covered with soot. It was so crowded that there wasn't even room for everyone to sit. When men grew exhausted they simply lay on the floor and went to sleep. The train crew was jolly and kind to everybody and finally let Mom and the baby sleep in one of their beds in the caboose. This track was so new that in some places where the ground had frozen and thawed they had to stop while it was rebuilt. They carried their own crew! It was bad going over the muskeg and we stopped so a hunter could kill fresh meat. They built a fire outside and cooked and made coffee, while a bridge was being rebuilt. It took days to get where we were going. Long enough for the swelling to go down from my mumps and for me to feel a little better, but weak and dizzy. I'd had to sit up all the way with my collar turned up as high as it would go, hoping no one would see that I was so swollen and ugly. I was so dirty, I felt I never again would get clean. Me, who never could go even one day without a bath! Well, we finally got to the end of the line and here was a camp and depot. We struggled off that train and into the depot. The station agent let us go into his living quarters and wash up while he and Dad talked business.

I forgot to mention that another family went with us. Actually it was a father and his children. Opal, a girl younger than me, was the oldest and her two younger brothers. The father was to work for Dad and Opal was supposed to help in the kitchen when we got settled in our camp, where Dad had the contract to work. The mother had deserted the family to run off with a good looking young man and the father was trying to keep his children with him. They had a homestead near ours.

When we had washed up as best we could we came back into the station, feeling better and looking forward to a good meal in the camp and a comfortable bed someplace. Dad told us the camp cook had quit! And there was no one to cook for the men coming in from work. He looked right at me and said, "The station agent wanted us to take over the cooking until the next train comes in from Edmonton with another cook." He said everyone would help if I'd just tell them what to do. Now, I'd probably do just that. Then, I just felt like collapsing. I don't believe I even answered, just started over to the cooking tent that had two big tables, two stoves and one end full of beds. The men brought in wood and got the fires going. I don't remember what we cooked, serving table after table. We had to make biscuits, as there was no other bread available. Supplies were no problem, as the warehouse at the end of the line was kept full of everything you could use. This was where we got supplies all summer and fall. It was only preparing, planning and serving that kept us working to a frazzle that night. When the dishes were finally all done, we dropped into bed exhausted. Morning came all too soon. Dad called and I got up. He called Opal, so did her Dad. But she was sleepy, never before in her young life had she got up when she didn't want to. Her dad said, "No use, she won't get up if she's sleepy." Dad roared, "If she's gonna help in the kitchen this summer, she's gonna get up and do it or back you go on this train!" He stood Opal on her feet a couple of times and tried to get her going. The next time he did it she got a dipper of cold water in the face. She got dressed, and mad I might add. Never again all summer did she have to be called more than once.

There was never any doubt that Dad was the head of the house and Mr. Bonta had made a deal for him and his three children to go with us to help put in the railroad. He to work for Dad and Opal to help in the kitchen. When Opal balked at getting up to do her share Dad knew he had to teach her that she must at least get up and try to do her part if the venture was to be a success.

All this time, Paul and I were trying to ignore everybody and just cook. Paul cooked the hotcakes that I had mixed and I prepared the bacon, eggs, hot biscuits, oatmeal, coffee, etc. Opal finally got the table set and when breakfast was over the people from the train scattered to go to the places they were headed for. From then on, until the cook came from Edmonton, the only ones outside of family that we had to cook for were the station agent and the railroad crew. So we got things going right; bread, cake and pies, etc.; in between getting the meals and even had time for bathing and shampooing our hair. After the first day, Dad and our men were busy hauling things over the corduroy road to set up our camp. They built a barn and a bunkhouse and set up the cook and dining tent with living quarters at one end. Mom was supposed to be head cook, me second cook and Opal was to help. Turned out I had the responsibility and most of the work, as Mom was sick a good part of the time. Opal, willing now to help, had never been taught how to do much, so she was busy learning all the time, but we were company for each other.

I must add, we had canned fruit of all kinds always, if we couldn't pick fresh berries. The fruit always came in gallon cans. Everything came in big containers. I used an empty lard can every day to boil a ham in. The cook finally came and we got ready to leave for our camp. When Mom saw the tent that we were supposed to sleep in, she just lost her wits. Now I'd hardly ever heard Mom get loud, but this time she did. No way was she going to live in a tent ever again. So Dad agreed to build an extension onto a tent as sleeping quarters that would not be a tent. Next day he started doing it and soon it was finished.

I couldn't blame Mom one bit for refusing to live in a tent after our terrible experience in St. Paul. While we were burying Jimmie and Alvie, we wondered if our brother, Ray, would be next. When I saw the tent we were supposed to sleep in I got a weak and sick feeling and was glad Mom was so explicit in her refusal. Had Dad not agreed to build on to the tent, we'd have ended up sleeping in the bunkhouse, which was made of logs. Mom was little, quick and spirited. She could get an awful lot done when she felt like it. But she had learned the art of passive resistance and nine times out of ten would get her own way with no argument at all. I can still feel her hands, though, when we were ill. Her gentle little hand on our forehead made us feel better right now, they were healing hands.

Well, the crew came and we each settled into our own jobs. [The Alberta and Great Waterways Railway contracted out the construction of the line. They brought in immigrants, mostly of Austro-Hungarian origin, to provide the labor. Standard wages were fifteen cents an hour for a ten hour day. A dollar a day was withheld from their wages for food and lodging (Woywitka, 1972)] The boys always brought in kindling and wood each evening and were sure the kerosene lamps and stove were filled. We had two wood ranges and one kerosene range, with oven on top. All three were kept busy. At four in the morning, I was up getting breakfast started. After I was dressed and ready I called Opal, then Dad and the boys. The men in the bunkhouse got up on their own and came for breakfast when the triangle bar was rung at six o'clock. Every morning I put a big ham on to boil. Every day we roasted large roasts and fried fresh meat when we could get it. All our fresh meat was game that someone hunted, cleaned and brought in. It was virgin country and game of all kinds was plentiful. Each day pies and cakes had to be baked, bread every other day, besides hot biscuits, corn bread and all the vegetables, etc. I got so tired of planning meals and cooking all that food. My mainstay all summer was mashed potatoes and canned tomatoes.

There was a stream at the foot of the hill and once a week, early in the morning, the boys filled tubs and wash boilers with water. We did our laundry outdoors and it was quite a job, although the crew had to take care of their own. I tried to keep tablecloths on the table and the ironing was the worst. I usually did this in the cool of the evening as irons had to be heated on the stove and it was hot work.

This is how we spent the spring and summer and on into the fall. Finally the railroad was finished and the crew gone and it was just family. While we waited for the inspectors to come and settle with Dad, we rode our horses and enjoyed the country and loved every minute of it. Being able to sleep in at least two hours extra each morning was sheer luxury. Then Dad and the boys went to the barn to care for the stock and when they came back we all ate breakfast together. Having cooked for a gang all summer, eleven people seemed easy work. We, at least I, felt I was lucky the train crew were all our friends and I've ridden not only in the coach of the passenger train, but the drawing rooms, as well as the engine, boxcar and caboose. We were moved once on the handcars, at least that is how the family got from one place to another.

Finally, Dad heard the inspectors would be at our camp a certain day so once again we were busy planning a feast. After Dad had taken them all along the right-of-way he was responsible for, he brought them to the camp for dinner. They seemed to enjoy it a lot and that afternoon Dad and them went into a business conference. When it was finished, Dad got top dollar for everything. I don't' recall how much it was, but know it was a lot of money. Then we made ready to go back to Edmonton on the train. If I remember right, Paul and one of the men stayed behind to care for the horses as Dad had decided he wanted to build a hotel at Waterways because that was as far as the tracks were laid. The people, furs, etc., were brought in boats from farther north to Waterways. There was a big warehouse built at the river's edge. Things were hauled from the river to be put on the train to go into the city and from the train to be shipped on the boats farther north into the Peace Peon area, etc. Our hotel was right on the route to and from the river.