At the scene when we arrived at exactly quarter to seven, was a human chain of men, smelling of garlic for miles, mostly Doukhobors, Russians, and Poles in heavy clothing of sheep skin, fur caps, etc. leaning on their shovels waiting for the signal to dive in a mucky trench 20 to 30 feet (6m x 9m) deep! They stood paralyzed, waiting, waiting ...

On this same chain Ralph and I stood, paralyzed, wordless. So far, we thought, we had seen everything, but this topped all. "You job here, mister?” I asked my closest brother in arms. "Mister, me no English. Me, mister Bokovina" "Sprechen sie deutch?" I asked. He told me he was waiting for someone to be fired to take his place, or for someone too late to start work. He, told me also that this was his second week waiting for a chance and also that the pay was very good, 17 cents an hour, ten hours a day.

I noticed some gentlemen in full length beaver coats, caps, mitts to match, yelling, yapping, orders from above down the pit to those poor; excited scared slaves. O me! O Canada!

My new friend told me those gentlemen were foremen in charge of the 40 to 50 slaves and were Polish and Russian.

After three hours in suspense, with sour stomachs and frozen feet, under a clear sharp sun we retraced our way back home. "Maybe tomorrow you'll have better luck. Don't get discouraged, " said .Mme. Gaspard.

Construction Worker, St. Boniface, Manitoba