The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.2003, Page 37

Vol. 58 #2
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
79
“Was it in March that he disappeared
from the house?” asked Mr. Iceland.
“Yes, late in March of 1870” said
Madeleine Vanda, with some emphasis.
O’Brian and Mr. Iceland looked at
each other once again.
“Every room in this house has its own
story,” said Madeleine Vanda, as there were
going down the stairs, “ and it would make
a pretty large book if all these stories were
printed, but white people would not
believe many of them.”
We all walked northwest from the
north side of the house and went slowly.
Madeleine Vanda was continually telling us
about this and that which had occurred in
the crooked house in those years, when it
had been a large and elegant hotel.
Suddenly she stopped. We were by then
about 30 fathoms (180 feet) from the house.
“What is this?” she said after looking for a
while across the river.
“How on earth did this happen?”
“What is the matter now, Mrs.
Leturneau?” asked O’Brian and looked at
her in bewilderment.
“I do not recognize this spot--I had
expected that the oak tree should be here
somewhere” she replied.
“Let us walk a little farther in this
direction,” said Mr. Iceland and pointed .
He knew that we still had not gone 192 feet
from the middle of the north side of the
house.
“We need not go farther in this direc-
tion” said Madeleine Vanda, “because the
oak tree had never stood on this spot on
which we are now standing.”
“Why do you say that” asked O’Brian
and obviously totally surprised.
“I know that” replied Madeleine
Vanda, “because there is no ditch on the
riverbank, and no log cabin on the bank
directly across the river. When I sat on the
east side of the oak tree I remember that it
was just 63 feet from the oak tree to the
ditch that was on the riverbank.”
“The house could have disappeared
long ago and the same with the ditch on the
riverbank” said Mr. Iceland.
“Of course” said Madeleine Vanda,
“But nevertheless I can assure you, that
there has been an unusual change here since
I left in the spring of 1870.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mr.
Iceland.
“I mean,” said Madeleine Vanda that
the house that was once called “The
Buffalo” must have been moved from the
place where it stood when I worked there.”
“Has been moved from the place?”
said O’Brian and his eyes became strangely
alert.
“Yes truly” said Madeleine Vanda
“just look. Directly east of the house is a
ditch on the riverbank—the ditch I was
talking about. And there on the opposite
side of the riverbank you can see the ruins
of the log house. Let us consider this better.
If you measure 63 feet in a straight line
west from the ditch, I can not understand
that you would come to the spot where the
oak tree stood.”
O’Brian and Mr. Iceland looked once
again at each other and O’Brian’s eyes
sparked like polished diamonds. We all
turned around, and walked up to a little
ditch which was on the riverbank directly
east of the northeast corner of the crooked
house. I had seen this ditch many times, but
paid no attention though it had been used
for going up and down the riverbank, when
people were getting water from the river,
and it was done every day all year around
many times a day. When we arrived at the
ditch, O’Brian took up the measuring tape
and compass and measured 63 feet in an
exact straight line to the west from where
the grass roots started on the riverbank. We
were now west of the crooked house and
had passed by it quickly. But the west part
of this 63 foot line extended into the mid-
dle of the sidewalk on the southeast por-
tion of Disraeli Street. It was obvious that
the sidewalk did not reach any farther east
than to the crooked house, because it was
in the way and touched on the street—a
distance of two feet. When we looked
under the sidewalk (which was built on
raised wooden planks with space under-
neath) we noticed a root from an oak tree
which had been chopped down to the
ground with the root still intact. From the
root O’Brian measured 5 yards straight
east, on the same line that he had measured
before, and put down a stake, and it was