Rolf in the Woods Part 37

Not a few withdrew from the service; some, like Quonab, reluctantly consented, but Rolf was developing the fighting spirit, and was proud to wear the colours.

The drill was tedious enough, but it was of short duration for him.

Despatches were to go to Albany. The general, partly to honour Rolf, selected him.

"Are you ready for another run, Kittering?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then prepare to start as soon as possible for Fort George and Albany.

Do you want a mate?"

"I should like a paddler as far as Fort George."

"Well, pick your man."

"Quonab."

And when they set out, for the first time Rolf was in the stern, the post of guidance and command. So once more the two were travelling again with Skook.u.m in the bow. It was afternoon when they started and the four-mile pa.s.sage of the creek was slow, but down the long, glorious vista of the n.o.ble George they went at full canoe-flight, five miles an hour, and twenty-five miles of the great fair-way were reeled and past when they lighted their nightly fire.

At dawn-cry of the hawk they sped away, and in spite of a rising wind they made six miles in two hours.

As they approached the familiar landing of Van Trumper's farm, Skook.u.m began to show a most zestful interest that recalled the blackened pages of his past. "Quonab, better use that," and Rolf handed a line with which Skook.u.m was secured and thus led to make a new record, for this was the first time in his life that he landed at Van Trumper's without sacrificing a chicken in honour of the joyful occasion.

They entered the house as the family were sitting down to breakfast.

"Mein Hemel! mein Hemel! It is Rolf and Quonab; and vere is dot tam dog?

Marta, vere is de chickens? Vy, Rolf, you bin now a giant, yah. Mein Gott, it is I am glad! I did tink der cannibals you had eat; is it dem Canadian or cannibal? I tink it all one the same, yah!"

Marta was actually crying, the little ones were climbing over Rolf's knee, and Annette, tall and sixteen now, stood shyly by, awaiting a chance to shake hands. Home is the abiding place of those we love; it may be a castle or a cave, a shanty or a chateau, a moving van, a tepee, or a ca.n.a.l boat, a fortress or the shady side of a bush, but it is home, if there indeed we meet the faces that are ever in the heart, and find the hands whose touch conveys the friendly glow. Was there any other spot on earth where he could sit by the fire and feel that "hereabout are mine own, the people I love?" Rolf knew it now--Van Trumper's was his home.

Talks of the war, of disasters by land, and of glorious victories on the sea, where England, long the unquestioned mistress of the waves, had been humbled again and again by the dauntless seamen of her Western blood; talks of big doings by the nation, and, yet more interesting, small doings by the travellers, and the breakfast pa.s.sed all too soon.

The young scout rose, for he was on-duty, but the long rollers on the lake forbade the going forth. Van's was a pleasant place to wait, but he chafed at the delay; his pride would have him make a record on every journey. But wait he must. Skook.u.m tied safely to his purgatorial post whined indignantly--and with head c.o.c.ked on one side, picked out the very hen he would like to utilize--as soon as released from his temporary embarra.s.sment. Quonab went out on a rock to b.u.m some tobacco and pray for calm, and Rolf, ever active, followed Van to look over the stock and buildings, and hear of minor troubles. The chimney was unaccountably given to smoking this year. Rolf took an axe and with two blows cut down a vigorous growth shrubbery that stood above the chimney on the west, and the smoking ceased. Buck ox had a lame foot and would allow no one even to examine it. But a skilful ox-handler easily hobbles an ox, throws him near some small tree, and then, by binding the lame foot to the tree, can have a free hand. It proved a simple matter, a deep-sunk, rusty nail. And when the nail was drawn and the place washed clean with hot brine, kind nature was left in confidence to do the rest. They drifted back to the house now. Tomas met them shouting out a mixture of Dutch and English and holding by the cover Annette's book of the "Good Girl." But its rightful owner rescued the precious volume and put it on the shelf.

"Have you read it through, Annette?"

"Yes," was the reply, for she had learned to read before they left Schuylerville.

"How do you like it?"

"Didn't like it a bit; I like 'Robinson Crusoe'," was the candid reply.

The noon hour came, still the white rollers were pounding the sh.o.r.e.

"If it does not calm by one o'clock I'll go on afoot."

So off he went with the packet, leaving Quonab to follow and await his return at Fort George. In Schuyler settlement he spent the night and at noon next day was in Albany.

How it stirred his soul to see the busy interest, the marching of men, the sailing of vessels, and above all to hear of more victories on the high seas. What mattered a few frontier defeats in the north, when the arrogant foe that had spurned and insulted them before the world had now been humbled again and again.

Young Van Cortlandt was away, but the governor's reception of him reflected the electric atmosphere--the country's pride in her sons.

Rolf had a matter of his own to settle. At the bookseller's he asked for and actually secured a copy of the great book--"Robinson Crusoe." It was with a thrilling feeling of triumph that he wrote Annette's name in it and stowed it in his bag.

He left Albany next day in the gray dawn. Thanks to his uniform, he got a twenty-five mile lift with a traveller who drove a fast team, and the blue water was glinting back the stars when he joined Quonab at Fort George, some sixty miles away.

In the calm betwixt star-peep and sun-up they were afloat. It was a great temptation to stop at Hendrik's for a spell, but breakfast was over, the water was calm, and duty called him. He hallooed, then they drew near enough to hand the book ash.o.r.e. Skook.u.m growled, probably at the hens, and the family waved their ap.r.o.ns as he sped on. Thirty miles of lake and four miles of Ticonderoga Creek they pa.s.sed and the packet was delivered in four days and three hours since leaving.

The general smiled and his short but amply sufficient praise was merely, "You're a good 'un."

Chapter 75. Scouting in Canada

"Thar is two things," said Si Sylvanne to the senate, "that every national crisis is bound to show up: first, a lot o' dum fools in command; second a lot o great commanders in the ranks. An' fortunately before the crisis is over the hull thing is sure set right, and the men is where they oughter be."

How true this was the nation was just beginning to learn. The fools in command were already demonstrated, and the summer of 1813 was replete with additional evidence. May, June, and July pa.s.sed with many journeyings for Rolf and many times with sad news. The disasters at Stony Creek, Beaver Dam, and Niagara were severe blows to the army on the western frontier. In June on Lake Champlain the brave but reckless Lieutenant Sidney Smith had run his two sloops into a trap. Thus the Growler and the Eagle were lost to the Americans, and strengthened by that much the British navy on the lake.

Encouraged by these successes, the British north of Lake Champlain made raid after raid into American territory, destroying what they could not carry off.

Rolf and Quonab were sent to scout in that country and if possible give timely notice of raiders in force.

The Americans were averse to employing Indians in warfare; the British entertained no such scruples and had many red-skinned allies. Quonab's case, however, was unusual, since he was guaranteed by his white partner, and now he did good service, for he knew a little French and could prowl among the settlers without anyone suspecting him of being an American scout.

Thus he went alone and travelled far. He knew the country nearly to Montreal and late in July was lurking about Odletown, when he overheard scattered words of a conversation that made him eager for more. "Colonel Murray--twelve hundred men--four hundred men--"

Meanwhile Rolf was hiding in the woods about La Colle Mill. Company after company of soldiers he saw enter, until at least five hundred were there. When night came down, he decided to risk a scarer approach. He left the woods and walked cautiously across the open lands about.

The hay had been cut and most of it drawn in, but there was in the middle of the field a hay-c.o.c.k. Rolf was near this when he heard sounds of soldiers from the mill. Soon large numbers came out, carrying their blankets. Evidently there was not room for them in the mill, and they were to camp on the field.

The scout began to retreat when sounds behind showed that another body of soldiers was approaching from that direction and he was caught between the two. There was only one place to hide and that was beneath the hayc.o.c.k. He lifted its edge and crawled under, but it was full of thistles and brambles; indeed, that was why it was left, and he had the benefit of all the spines about him.

His heart beat fast as he heard the clank of arms and the trampling; they came nearer, then the voices became more distinct. He heard unmistakable evidence too that both bodies were camping for the night, and that he was nearly surrounded. Not knowing what move was best he kept quiet. The men were talking aloud, then they began preparing their beds and he heard some one say, "There's a hay-c.o.c.k; bring some of that."

A soldier approached to get an armful of the hay, but sputtered out a chapter of malediction as his bare hands touched the ma.s.ses of thistle and briers. His companions laughed at his mishap. He went to the fire and vowed he'd stick a brand in it and back he came with a burning stick.

Rolf was all ready to make a dash for his life as soon as the cover should take fire, and he peered up into the soldier's face as the latter blew on the brand; but the flame had died, the thistles were not dry, and the fire was a failure; so, growling again, the soldier threw down the smoking stick and went away. As soon as he was safely afar, Rolf gathered a handful of soil and covered the red embers.

It was a critical moment and his waiting alone had saved him.

Two soldiers came with their blankets and spread them near. For a time they smoked and talked. One of them was short of tobacco; the other said, "Never mind, we'll get plenty in Plattsburg," and they guffawed.

Then he heard, "As soon as the colonel" and other broken phrases.

It was a most difficult place for Rolf; he was tormented with thistles in his face and down his neck; he dared not change his position; and how long he must stay was a problem. He would try to escape when all was still.

The nearer soldiers settled to rest now. All was very quiet when Rolf cautiously peeped forth to see two dreadful things: first, a couple of sentries pacing up and down the edges of the camp; second, a broad, brilliant, rising moon. How horrible that lovely orb could be Rolf never before knew.

Now, what next? He was trapped in the middle of a military camp and undoubtedly La Colle Mill was the rendezvous for some important expedition.