Rolf In The Woods - Ernest Thompson Seton (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📗
- Author: Ernest Thompson Seton
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Standing. As The Sound Neared, He Heard The Clank Of Arms, And
When It Passed, Rolf Knew That This Was A Mounted British
Officer. But Why, And Whither?
In Order To Learn The Rider's Route, Rolf Followed At A Trot For
A Mile. This Brought Him To A Hilltop, Whither In The Silent
Night, That Fateful North Wind Carried Still The Sound
Te -- Rump Te -- Rump Te -- Rump.
As It Was Nearly Lost, Rolf Used His Knife Again; That Brought
The Rider Back Within A Mile It Seemed, And Again The Hoof Beat
Faded, Te -- Rump Te -- Rump.
"Bound For Canada All Right," Rolf Chuckled To Himself. But There
Was Nothing To Show Whether This Was A Mere Despatch Rider, Or An
Advance Scout, Or A Call For Reinforcements.
So Again He Had A Long Wait. About Half-Past Ten A New And Larger
Sound Came From The South. The Knife In The Ground Increased But
Did Not Explain It. The Night Was Moonless, Dark Now, And It Was
Safe To Sit Very Near The Road. In Twenty Minutes The Sound Was
Near At Hand In Five, A Dark Mass Was Passing Along The Road.
There Is No Mistaking The Language Of Drivers. There Is Never Any
Question About Such And Such A Voice Being That Of An English
Officer. There Can Be No Doubt About The Clank Of Heavy Wheels --
A Rich, Tangy Voice From Some One In Advance Said: "Oui. Parbleu,
Tows Ce Que Je Sais, C'est Par La." A Body Of About One Hundred
Britishers, Two Or Three Wagons, Guns, And A Frenchman For Guide.
Rolf Thought He Knew That Voice; Yes, He Was Almost Sure It Was
The Voice Of Francios La Colle.
This Was Important But Far From Conclusive. It Was Now Eleven. He
Was Due At The Canoe By Midnight. He Made For The Place As Fast
As He Could Go, Which, On Such A Night, Was Slow, But Guided By
Occasional Glimpses Of The Stars He Reached The Lake, And Pausing
A Furlong From The Landing, He Gave The Rolling, Quivering Loon Call:
Ho-O-O-O-Ooo-O Ho-O-O-O-Ooo-O. Hooo-Ooo.
After Ten Seconds The Answer Came:
Ho-O-O-O-O-O-O-O Hoo-Ooo.
And Again After Ten Seconds Rolf's Reply:
Hoo-Ooo.
Both His Friends Were There; Fiske With A Bullet-Hole Through His
Arm. It Seemed Their Duty To Go Back At Once To Headquarters With
The Meagre Information And Their Wounded Comrade. But Fiske Made
Light Of His Trouble -- It Was A Mere Scratch -- And Reminded
Them That Their Orders Were To Make Sure Of The Enemy's
Movements. Therefore, It Was Arranged That Seymour Take Back
Fiske And What News They Had, While Rolf Went On To Complete His Scouting.
By One O'clock He Was Again On The Hill Where He Had Marked The
Horseman's Outward Flight And The Escorted Guns. Now, As He
Waited, There Were Sounds In The North That Faded, And In The
South Were Similar Sounds That Grew. Within An Hour He Was
Viewing A Still Larger Body Of Troops With Drivers And Wheels
That Clanked. There Were Only Two Explanations Possible: Either
The British Were Concentrating On Chazy Landing, Where, Protected
From Macdonough By The North Wind, They Could Bring Enough Stores
And Forces From The North To March Overland Independent Of The
Ships, Or Else They Were In Full Retreat For Canada. There Was
But One Point Where This Could Be Made Sure, Namely, At The Forks
Of The Road In Chazy Village. So He Set Out At A Jog Trot For
Chazy, Six Miles Away.
The Troops Ahead Were Going Three Miles An Hour. Rolf Could Go Five.
In Twenty Minutes He Overtook Them And Now Was Embarrassed
By Their Slowness. What Should He Do? It Was Nearly Impossible To
Make Speed Through The Woods In The Darkness, So As To Pass Them.
He Was Forced To Content Himself By Marching A Few Yards In Their Rear.
Once Or Twice When A Group Fell Back, He Was Uncomfortably Close
And Heard Scraps Of Their Talk.
These Left Little Doubt That The Army Was In Retreat. Still This
Was The Mere Chatter Of The Ranks. He Curbed His Impatience And
Trudged With The Troop. Once A Man Dropped Back To Light His
Pipe. He Almost Touched Rolf, And Seeing A Marching Figure, Asked
In Unmistakable Accents "Oi Soi Matey, 'Ave Ye A Loight?"
Rolf Assumed The Low South Country English Dialect, Already
Familiar Through Talking With Prisoners, And Replied: "Naow, Oi
Oin't A-Smowking," Then Gradually Dropped Out Of Sight.
They Were Nearly Two Hours In Reaching Chazy Where They Passed
The Forks, Going Straight On North. Without Doubt, Now, The Army
Was Bound For Canada! Rolf Sat On A Fence Near By As Their
Footsteps Went Tramp, Tramp, Tramp -- With The Wagons, Clank,
Clank, Clank, And Were Lost In The Northern Distance.
He Had Seen Perhaps Three Hundred Men; There Were Thirteen
Thousand To Account For, And He Sat And Waited. He Did Not Have
Long To Wait; Within Half An Hour A Much Larger Body Of Troops
Evidently Was Approaching From The South; Several Lanterns
Gleamed Ahead Of Them, So Rolf Got Over The Fence, But It Was Low
And Its Pickets Offered Poor Shelter. Farther Back Was Judge
Hubbell's Familiar Abode With Dense Shrubbery. He Hastened To It
And In A Minute Was Hidden Where He Could See Something Of The
Approaching Troops. They Were Much Like Those That Had Gone
Before, But Much More Numerous, At Least A Regiment, And As They
Filled The Village Way, An Officer Cried "Halt!" And Gave New
Orders. Evidently They Were About To Bivouac For The Night. A
Soldier Approached The Picket Fence To Use It For Firewood, But
An Officer Rebuked Him. Other Fuel, Chiefly Fence Rails, Was
Found, And A Score Or More Of Fires Were Lighted On The Highway
And In The Adjoining Pasture. Rolf Found Himself In Something
Like A Trap, For In Less Than Two Hours Now Would Be The Dawn.
The Simplest Way Out Was To Go In; He Crawled Quietly Round The
House To The Window Of Mrs. Hubbell's Room. These Were Times Of
Nervous Tension, And Three Or Four Taps On The Pane Were Enough
To Arouse The Good Lady. Her Husband Had Come That Way More Than Once.
"Who Is It?" She Demanded, Through A Small Opening Of The Sash.
"Rolf Kittering," He Whispered, "The Place Is Surrounded By
Soldiers; Can't You Hide Me?"
Could She? Imagine An American Woman Saying "No" At Such A Time.
He Slipped In Quietly.
"What News?" She Said. "They Say That Macdonough Has Won
On The Lake, But Plattsburg Is Taken."
"No, Indeed; Plattsburgh Is Safe; Macdonough Has Captured The Fleet.
I Am Nearly Sure That The Whole British Army Is Retiring To Canada."
"Thank God, Thank God," She Said Fervently, "I Knew It Must Be
So; The Women Have Met Here And Prayed Together Every Day,
Morning And Night. But Hush!" She Laid A Warning Finger On Her
Lips And Pointed Up Toward One Of The Rooms -- "British Officer."
She Brought Two Blankets From A Press And Led Up To The Garret.
At The Lowest Part Of The Roof Was A Tiny Door To A Lumber
Closet. In This Rolf Spread His Blankets, Stretched His Weary
Limbs, And Soon Was Sound Asleep.
At Dawn The Bugles Blew, The Camp Was Astir. The Officer In The
House Arose And Took His Post On The Porch. He Was There On Guard
To Protect The House. His Brother Officers Joined Him. Mrs.
Hubbell Prepared Breakfast. It Was Eaten Silently, So Far As Rolf
Could Learn. They Paid For It And, Heading Their Regiment, Went
Away Northward, Leaving The Officer Still On The Porch.
Presently Rolf Heard A Stealthy Step In His Garret, The Closed
Door Was Pushed Open, And Mrs. Hubbell's Calm, Handsome Face
Appeared, As, With A Reassuring Nod, She Set Down A Mug Of
Coffee, Some Bread, And A Bowl Of Mush And Milk. And Only Those
Who Have Travelled And Fasted For Twelve Hours When They Were
Nineteen Know How Good It Tasted.
From A Tiny Window Ventilator Rolf Had A View Of The Road In
Front. A Growing Din Of Men Prepared Him For More Troops, But
Still He Was Surprised To See Ten Regiments March Past With All
Their Stores -- A Brave Army, But No One Could Mistake Their
Looks; They Wore The Despondent Air Of An Army In Full Retreat.
Chapter 82 (The Last Of Sir George Prevost)
The Battle Was Over At Plattsburg Town, Though It Had Not Been
Fought; For The Spirit Of Macdonough Was On Land And Water, And
It Was Felt By The British General, As Well As The Yankee
Riflemen, As Soon As The Union Jack Had Been Hauled From The Mast
Of The Confiance.
Now Sir George Prevost Had To Face A Momentous Decision: He Could
Force The Passage Of The Saranac And March On To Albany, But His
Communications Would Be Cut, And He Must Rely On A Hostile
Country For Supplies. Every Day Drew Fresh Bands Of Riflemen From
The Hills. Before He Could Get To Albany Their Number Might
Exceed His, And Then What? Unless Great Britain Could Send A New
Army Or A Fleet To Support Him, He Must Meet The Fate Of
Burgoyne. Prevost Proposed To Take No Such Chances And The Night
Of The 11th Eight Hours After Macdonough's Victory, He Gave The
Order "Retire To Canada."
To Hide The Move As Long As Possible, No Change Was Made Till
After Sundown; No Hint Was Given To The Beleaguered Town; They
Must Have No Opportunity To Reap The Enormous Advantages, Moral
And Material, Of Harrying A Retreating Foe. They Must Arise In
The Morning To Find The Enemy Safely Over The Border. The Plan
Was Perfect, And Would Have Been Literally Carried Out, Had Not
He Had To Deal With A Foe As Clever As Himself.
How Eagerly Rolf Took In The Scene On Chazy Road; How Much It
Meant! How He Longed To Fly At His Fastest Famous Speed With The
Stirring News. In Two Hours And A Half He Could Surely Let His
Leader Know. And He Gazed With A Sort Of Superior Pride At The
Martial Pomp And Bravery Of The Invaders Driven Forth.
Near The Last Was A Gallant Array Of Gentlemen In Gorgeous
Uniforms Of Scarlet And Gold; How Warlike They Looked, How
Splendid Beside The Ill-Clad Riflemen Of Vermont And The Rude
Hunters Of The Adirondacks. How Much More Beautiful Is An Iron
Sword With Jewels, Than A Sword Of Plain Gray Steel.
Dame Hubbell Stood In Her Door As They Went By. Each And All
Saluted Politely; Her Guard Was Ordered To Join His Regiment. The
Lady Waved Her Sun-Bonnet In Response To Their Courteous
Good-Bye, And Could Not Refrain From Calling Out:
"How About My Prophecy, Sir George, And Those Purses?"
Rolf Could Not See His Hostess, But He Heard Her Voice, And He
Saw The Astonishing Effect:
The British General Reined In His Horse. "A Gentleman's Word Is
His Bond, Madam," He Said. "Let Every Officer Now Throw His Purse
At The Lady's Feet," And He Set The Example. A Dozen Rattling
Thuds Were Heard And A Dozen Officers Saluting, Purseless, Rode
Away.
A Round Thousand Dollars In Gold The Lady Gathered On Her Porch
That Morning, And To This Day Her Grand-Kin Tell The Tale.
Chapter 83 (Rolf Unmasks The Ambush)
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