Rolf In The Woods - Ernest Thompson Seton (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📗
- Author: Ernest Thompson Seton
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Was Made. When There Was A North Reach, The Snow Was Extra Hard
Or The Ice Clear And The Scouts Slipped Off Their Snow Shoes, And
Trotted At A Good Six-Mile Gait. Three Times They Halted For Tea
And Rest, But The Fact That They Were The Bearers Of Precious
Despatches, The Bringers Of Inspiring Good News, And Their Goal
Ever Nearer, Spurred Them On And On. It Was Ten O'clock That
Morning When They Left The Mill, Some Thirty Miles From
Ogdensburg. It Was Now Near Sundown, But Still They Figured That
By An Effort They Could Reach The Goal That Night. It Was Their
Best Day's Travel, But They Were Nerved To It By The Sense Of
Triumph As They Trotted; And The Prospective Joy Of Marching Up
To The Commandant And Handing Over The Eagerly Looked For,
Reassuring Documents, Gave Them New Strength And Ambition. Yes!
They Must Push On At Any Price That Night. Day Was Over Now; Rolf
Was Leading At A Steady Trot. In His Hand He Held The Long Trace
Of His Toboggan, Ten Feet Behind Was Quonab With The Short Trace,
While Skookum Trotted Before, Beside, Or Behind, As Was Dictated
By His General Sense Of Responsibility.
It Was Quite Dark Now. There Was No Moon, The Wooded Shore Was
Black. Their Only Guide Was The Broad, Wide Reach Of The River,
Sometimes Swept Bare Of Snow By The Wind, But Good Travelling At
All Times. They Were Trotting And Walking In Spells, Going Five
Miles An Hour; Quonab Was Suffering, But Rolf Was Young And Eager
To Finish. They Rounded Another Reach, They Were Now On The Last
Big Bend, They Were Reeling Off The Miles; Only Ten More, And
Rolf Was So Stirred That, Instead Of Dropping To The Usual Walk
On Signal At The Next One Hundred Yards Spell, He Added To His
Trot. Quonab, Taken Unawares, Slipped And Lost His Hold Of The
Trace. Rolf Shot Ahead And A Moment Later There Was The Crash Of
A Breaking Air-Hole, And Rolf Went Through The Ice, Clutched At
The Broken Edge And Disappeared, While The Toboggan Was Dragged
To The Hole.
Quonab Sprung To His Feet, And Then To The Lower Side Of The
Hole. The Toboggan Had Swung To The Same Place And The Long Trace
Was Tight; Without A Moment's Delay The Indian Hauled At It
Steadily, Heavily, And In A Few Seconds The Head Of His Companion
Reappeared; Still Clutching That Long Trace He Was Safely Dragged
From The Ice-Cold Flood, Blowing And Gasping, Shivering And
Sopping, But Otherwise Unhurt.
Now Here A New Danger Presented Itself. The Zero Wind Would Soon
Turn His Clothes To Boards. They Stiffened In A Few Minutes, And
The Indian Knew That Frozen Hands And Feet Were All Too Easy In
Frozen Clothes.
He Made At Once For The Shore, And, Seeking The Heart Of A Spruce
Thicket, Lost No Time In Building Two Roaring Fires Between Which
Rolf Stood While The Indian Made The Bed, In Which, As Soon As He
Could Be Stripped, The Lad Was Glad To Hide. Warm Tea And Warm
Blankets Made Him Warm, But It Would Take An Hour Or Two To Dry
His Clothes. There Is Nothing More Damaging Than Drying Them Too
Quickly. Quonab Made Racks Of Poles And Spent The Next Two Hours
In Regulating The Fire, Watching The Clothes, And Working The
Moccasins.
It Was Midnight When They Were Ready And Any Question Of Going On
At Once Was Settled By Quonab. "Ogdensburg Is Under Arms," He
Said. "It Is Not Wise To Approach By Night."
At Six In The Morning They Were Once More Going, Stiff With
Travel, Sore-Footed, Face-Frozen, And Chafed By Delay; But, Swift
And Keen, Trotting And Walking, They Went. They Passed Several
Settlements, But Avoided Them. At Seven-Thirty They Had A Distant
Glimpse Of Ogdensburg And Heard The Inspiring Roll Of Drums, And
A Few Minutes Later From The Top Of A Hill They Had A Complete
View Of The Heroic Little Town To See -- Yes! Plainly Enough --
That The British Flag Was Flying From The Flag Pole.
Chapter 69 (Saving The Despatches)
Oh, The Sickening Shock Of It! Rolf Did Not Know Till Now How
Tired He Was, How Eager To Deliver The Heartening Message, And To
Relax A Little From The Strain. He Felt Weak Through And Through.
There Could Be No Doubt That A Disaster Had Befallen His
Country's Arms.
His First Care Was To Get Out Of Sight With His Sled And Those
Precious Despatches.
Now What Should He Do? Nothing Till He Had Fuller Information. He
Sent Quonab Back With The Sled, Instructing Him To Go To A
Certain Place Two Miles Off, There Camp Out Of Sight And Wait.
Then He Went In Alone. Again And Again He Was Stung By The
Thought, "If I Had Come Sooner They Might Have Held Out."
A Number Of Teams Gathered At The Largest Of A Group Of Houses On
The Bank Suggested A Tavern. He Went In And Found Many Men
Sitting Down To Breakfast. He Had No Need To Ask Questions. It
Was The Talk Of The Table. Ogdensburg Had Been Captured The Day
Before. The Story Is Well Known. Colonel Macdonnell With His
Glengarry Highlanders At Prescott Went To Drill Daily On The Ice
Of The St. Lawrence Opposite Ogdensburg. Sometimes They Marched
Past Just Out Of Range, Sometimes They Charged And Wheeled Before
Coming Too Near. The Few Americans That Held The Place Watched
These Harmless Exercises And Often Cheered Some Clever Manceuvre.
They Felt Quite Safe Behind Their Fortification. By An Unwritten
Agreement Both Parties Refrained From Firing Random Shots At Each
Other. There Was Little To Suggest Enemies Entrenched; Indeed,
Many Men In Each Party Had Friends In The Other, And The British
Had Several Times Trotted Past Within Easy Range, Without
Provoking A Shot.
On February 22d, The Day When Rolf And Quonab Struck The
Oswegatchie, The British Colonel Directed His Men As Usual,
Swinging Them Ever Nearer The American Fort, And Then, At The
Nearest Point, Executed A Very Pretty Charge. The Americans
Watched It As It Neared, But Instead Of Wheeling At The Brink The
Little Army Scrambled Up With Merry Shouts, And Before The
Garrison Could Realize That This Was War, They Were Overpowered
And Ogdensburg Was Taken.
The American Commander Was Captured. Captain Forsyth, The Second
In Command, Had Been Off On A Snowshoe Trip, So Had Escaped. All
The Rest Were Prisoners, And What To Do With The Despatches Or
How To Get Official Instructions Was Now A Deep Problem. "When
You Don't Know A Thing To Do, Don't Do A Thing," Was One Of Si
Sylvanne's Axioms; Also, "In Case Of Doubt Lay Low And Say
Nothing." Rolf Hung Around The Town All Day Waiting For Light.
About Noon A Tall, Straight, Alert Man In A Buffalo Coat Drove Up
With A Cutter. He Had A Hasty Meal In An Inside Room. Rolf Sized
Him Up For An American Officer, But There Was A Possibility Of
His Being A Canadian. Rolf Tried In Vain To Get Light On Him But
The Inner Door Was Kept Closed; The Landlord Was Evidently In The
Secret. When He Came Out He Was Again Swaddled In The Buffalo
Coat. Rolf Brushed Past Him -- Here Was Something Hard And Long
In The Right Pocket Of The Big Coat.
The Landlord, The Guest, And The Driver Had A Whispered
Conference. Rolf Went As Near As He Dared, But Got Only A
Searching Look. The Driver Spoke To Another Driver And Rolf Heard
The Words "Black Lake." Yes, That Was What He Suspected. Black
Lake Was On The Inland Sleigh Route To Alexandria Bay And
Sackett's Harbour.
The Driver, A Fresh Young Fellow, Was Evidently Interested In The
Landlord's Daughter; The Stranger Was Talking With The Landlord.
As Soon As They Had Parted, Rolf Went To The Latter And Remarked
Quietly: "The Captain Is In A Hurry." The Only Reply Was A Cold
Look And: "Guess That's His Business." So It Was The Captain. The
Driver's Mitts Were On The Line Back Of The Stove. Rolf Shook
Them So That They Fell In A Dark Corner. The Driver Missed His
Mitts, And Glad Of A Chance Went Back In, Leaving The Officer
Alone. "Captain Forsyth," Whispered Rolf, "Don't Go Till I Have
Talked With You. I'll Meet You A Mile Down The Road."
"Who Are You And What Do You Want?" Was The Curt And Hostile
Reply, Evidently Admitting The Identification Correct However.
Rolf Opened His Coat And Showed His Scout Badge.
"Why Not Talk Now If You Have Any News -- Come In Side." So The
Two Went To The Inner Room. "Who Is This?" Asked Rolf Cautiously
As The Landlord Came In.
"He's All Right. This Is Titus Flack, The Landlord."
"How Am I To Know That?"
"Haven't You Heard Him Called By Name All Day?" Said The Captain.
Flack Smiled, Went Out And Returned With His License To Sell
Liquor, And His Commission As A Magistrate Of New York State. The
Latter Bore His Own Signature. He Took A Pen And Reproduced It.
Now The Captain Threw Back His Overcoat And Stood In The Full
Uniform Of An Army Officer. He Opened His Satchel And Took Out A
Paper, But Rolf Caught Sight Of Another Packet Addressed To
General Hampton. The Small One Was Merely A Map. "I Think That
Packet In There Is Meant For Me," Remarked Rolf.
"We Haven't Seen Your Credentials Yet," Said The Officer. "I Have
Them Two Miles Back There," And Rolf Pointed To The Woods.
"Let's Go," Said The Captain And They Arose. Kittering Had A Way
Of Inspiring Confidence, But In The Short, Silent Ride Of Two
Miles The Captain Began To Have His Doubts. The Scout Badge Might
Have Been Stolen; Canadians Often Pass For Americans, Etc. At
Length They Stopped The Sleigh, And Rolf Led Into The Woods.
Before A Hundred Yards The Officer Said, "Stop," And Rolf Stopped
To Find A Pistol Pointed At His Head. "Now, Young Fellow, You've
Played It Pretty Slick, And I Don't Know Yet What To Make Of It.
But I Know This; At The Very First Sign Of Treachery I'll Blow
Your Brains Out Anyway." It Gave Rolf A Jolt. This Was The First
Time He Had Looked Down A Pistol Barrel Levelled At Him. He Used
To Think A Pistol A Little Thing, An Inch Through And A Foot
Long, But He Found Now It Seemed As Big As A Flour Barrel And
Long Enough To Reach Eternity. He Changed Colour But Quickly
Recovered, Smiled, And Said: "Don't Worry; In Five Minutes You
Will Know It's All Right."
Very Soon A Sharp Bark Was Heard In Challenge, And The Two
Stepped Into Camp To Meet Quonab And Little Dog Skookum.
"Doesn't Look Much Like A Trap," Thought The Captain After He Had
Cast His Eyes About And Made Sure That No Other Person Was In The
Camp; Then Aloud, "Now What Have You To Show Me? "
"Excuse Me, Captain, But How Am I To Know You Are Captain
Forsyth? It Is Possible For A Couple Of Spies To Give All The
Proof You Two Gave Me."
The Captain Opened His Bag And Showed First His Instructions
Given Before He Left Ogdensburg Four Days Ago; He Bared His Arm
And Showed A Tattooed U. S. A., A Relic Of Academy Days, Then His
Linen Marked J. F., And A Signet Ring With Similar Initials, And
Last The Great Packet Of Papers Addressed To General Hampton.
Then He Said: "When You Hand Over Your Despatches To Me I Will
Give Mine To You And We Shall Have Good Guarantee Each Of The Other."
Rolf Rose, Produced His Bundle Of Papers, And Exchanged Them For
Those Held By Forsyth; Each Felt That The Other Was Safe. They
Soon Grew Friendly, And Rolf Heard Of Some Stirring Doings On The
Lake And Preparations For A Great Campaign In The Spring.
After Half An Hour The Tall, Handsome Captain Left Them And
Strode Away, A Picture Of Manly Vigour. Three Hours Later They
Were Preparing Their Evening Meal When Skookum Gave Notice Of A
Stranger Approaching.
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