Rolf In The Woods by Ernest Thompson Seton (phonics story books .txt) 📕

Ready,  And A Moment Later In Burst The Young Man Who Had Been

Captain Forsyth's Driver.

His Face Was White; Blood Dripped From His Left Arm,  And In His

Other Hand Was The Despatch Bag. He Glanced Keenly At Rolf. "Are

You General Hampton's Scout?" Rolf Nodded And Showed The Badge On

His Breast. "Captain Forsyth Sent This Back," He Gasped. "His

Last Words Were,  'Burn The Despatches Rather Than Let The British

Get Them.' They Got Him -- A Foraging Party -- There Was A Spy At

The Hotel. I Got Away,  But My Tracks Are Easy To Follow Unless It

Drifts. Don't Wait."

Poor Boy,  His Arm Was Broken,  But He Carried Out The Dead

Officer's Command,  Then Left Them To Seek For Relief In The

Settlement.

Night Was Near,  But Rolf Broke Camp At Once And Started Eastward

With The Double Packet. He Did Not Know It Then,  But Learned

Afterward That These Despatches Made Clear The Weakness Of

Oswego,  Rochester,  And Sackett's Harbour,  Their Urgent Need Of

Help,  And Gave The Whole Plan For An American Counter Attack On

Montreal. But He Knew They Were Valuable,  And They Must At Once

Be Taken To General Hampton.

It Was Rough,  Hard Going In The Thick Woods And Swamps Away From

The River,  For He Did Not Dare Take The Ice Route Now,  But They

Pushed On For Three Hours,  Then,  In The Gloom,  Made A Miserable

Camp In A Cedar Swamp.

At Dawn They Were Off Again. To Their Disgust The Weather Now Was

Dead Calm; There Was No Drift To Hide Their Tracks; The Trail Was

As Plain As A Highway Wherever They Went. They Came To A Beaten

Road,  Followed That For Half A Mile,  Then Struck Off On The True

Line. But They Had No Idea That They Were Followed Until,  After

An Hour Of Travel,  The Sun Came Up And On A Far Distant Slope,

Full Two Miles Away,  They Saw A Thin Black Line Of Many Spots,  At

Least A Dozen British Soldiers In Pursuit.

The Enemy Was On Snowshoes,  And Without Baggage Evidently,  For

They Travelled Fast. Rolf And Quonab Burdened With The Sled Were

Making A Losing Race. But They Pushed On As Fast As Possible --

Toiling And Sweating At That Precious Load. Rolf Was Pondering

Whether The Time Had Not Yet Come To Stop And Burn The Packet,

When,  Glancing Back From A High Ridge That Gave An Outlook,  He

Glimpsed A Row Of Heads That Dropped Behind Some Rocks Half A

Mile Away,  And A Scheme Came Into His Mind. He Marched Boldly

Across The Twenty Feet Opening That Was In The Enemy's View,

Dropped Behind The Spruce Thickets,  Called Quonab To Follow,  Ran

Around The Thicket,  And Again Crossed The Open View. So He And

Quonab Continued For Five Minutes,  As Fast As They Could Go,

Knowing Perfectly Well That They Were Watched. Round And Round

That Bush They Went,  Sometimes Close Together,  Carrying The Guns,

Sometimes Dragging The Sled,  Sometimes With Blankets On Their

Shoulders,  Sometimes With A Short Bag Or Even A Large Cake Of

Snow On Their Backs. They Did Everything They Could To Vary The

Scene,  And Before Five Minutes The British Officer In Charge Had

Counted Fifty-Six Armed Americans Marching In Single File Up The

Bank With Ample Stores,  Accompanied By Five Yellow Dogs. Had

Skookum Been Allowed To Carry Out His Ideas,  There Would Have

Been Fifty Or Sixty Yellow Dogs,  So Thoroughly Did He Enter Into

The Spirit Of The Game.

The Track Gave No Hint Of Such A Troop,  But Of Course Not,  How

Could It? Since The Toboggan Left All Smooth After They Had

Passed,  Or Maybe This Was A Reinforcement Arriving. What Could He

Do With His Ten Men Against Fifty Of The Enemy? He Thanked His

Stars That He Had So Cleverly Evaded The Trap,  And Without

Further Attempt To Gauge The Enemy's Strength,  He Turned And Made

All Possible Haste Back To The Shelter Of Ogdensburg.

It Was Hours Before Rolf Was Sure That He Had Stopped The

Pursuit,  And The Thing That Finally Set His Mind At Rest Was The

Rising Wind That Soon Was A Raging And Drifting Snow Storm. "Oh,

Blessed Storm!" He Said In His Heart,  As He Marked All Trail

Disappear Within A Few Seconds Of Its Being Made. And He Thought:

"How I Cursed The Wind That Held Me Back -- Really From Being

Made Prisoner. How Vexed I Was At That Ducking In The River,  That

Really Saved My Despatches From The Enemy. How Thankful I Am Now

For The Storm That A Little While Back Seemed So Bitterly Cruel."

That Forenoon They Struck The Big Bend Of The River And Now Did

Not Hesitate To Use The Easy Travel On The Ice As Far As

Rensselaer Falls,  Where,  Having Got Their Bearings From A

Settler,  They Struck Across The Country Through The Storm,  And At

Night Were Encamped Some Forty Miles From Ogdensburg.

Marvellously Few Signs Of Game Had They Seen In This Hard Trip;

Everything That Could Hide Away Was Avoiding The Weather. But In

A Cedar Bottom Land Near Cranberry Lake They Found A "Yard" That

Seemed To Be The Winter Home Of Hundreds Of Deer. It Extended Two

Or Three Miles One Way A Half A Mile The Other; In Spite Of The

Deep Snow This Was Nearly All In Beaten Paths. The Scouts Saw At

Least Fifty Deer In Going Through,  So,  Of Course,  Had No

Difficulty In Selecting A Young Buck For Table Use.

The Going From There On Was Of Little Interest.  It Was The Same

Old Daily Battle With The Frost,  But Less Rigorous Than Before,

For Now The Cold Winds Were Behind,  And On The 27th Of February,

Nine Days After Leaving,  They Trotted Into Ticonderoga And

Reported At The Commandant's Headquarters.

The General Was Still Digging Entrenchments And Threatening To

Annihilate All Canada. But The Contents Of The Despatches Gave

Him New Topics For Thought And Speech. The Part He Must Play In

The Proposed Descent On Montreal Was Flattering,  But It Made The

Ticonderoga Entrenchments Ridiculous.

For Three Days Rolf Was Kept Cutting Wood,  Then He Went With

Despatches To Albany.

Many Minor Labours,  From Hog-Killing To Stable-Cleaning And

Trenching,  Varied The Month Of March. Then Came The Uncertain

Time Of April When It Was Neither Canoeing Nor Snow-Shoeing And

All Communication From The North Was Cut Off.

But May,  Great,  Glorious May Came On,  With Its Inspiring Airs And

Livening Influence. Canoes Were Afloat,  The Woods Were Brown

Beneath And Gold Above.

Rolf Felt Like A Young Stag In His Strength. He Was Spoiling For

A Run And Volunteered Eagerly To Carry Despatches To Sackett's

Harbour. He Would Go Alone,  For Now One Blanket Was Sufficient

Bed,  And A Couple Of Pounds Of Dry Meat Was Enough Food For Each

Day. A Small Hatchet Would Be Useful,  But His Rifle Seemed Too

Heavy To Carry; As He Halted In Doubt,  A Junior Officer Offered

Him A Pistol Instead,  And He Gladly Stuck It In His Belt.

Taller Than Ever,  Considerably Over Six Feet Now,  Somewhat Lanky,

But Supple Of Joint And Square Of Shoulder,  He Strode With The

Easy Stride Of A Strong Traveller. His Colour Was Up,  His

Blue-Gray Eyes Ablaze As He Took The Long Trail In A Crow Line

Across Country For Sackett's Harbour. The Sentry Saluted,  And The

Officer Of The Day,  Struck By His Figure And His Glowing Face As

Much As By The Nature Of His Errand,  Stopped To Shake Hands And

Say,  "Well,  Good Luck,  Kittering,  And May You Bring Us Better

News Than The Last Two Times."

Rolf Knew How To Travel Now; He Began Softly. At A Long,  Easy

Stride He Went For Half An Hour,  Then At A Swinging Trot For A

Mile Or Two. Five Miles An Hour He Could Make,  But There Was One

Great Obstacle To Speed At This Season -- Every Stream Was At

Flood,  All Were Difficult To Cross. The Brooks He Could Wade Or

Sometimes Could Fell A Tree Across Them,  But The Rivers Were Too

Wide To Bridge,  Too Cold And Dangerous To Swim. In Nearly Every

Case He Had To Make A Raft. A Good Scout Takes No Chances. A

Slight Raft Means A Risky Passage; A Good One,  A Safe Crossing

But Loss Of Time In Preparations. Fifteen Good Rafts Did Rolf

Make In That Cross-Country Journey Of Three Days: Dry Spruce Logs

He Found Each Time And Bound Them Together With Leather-Wood And

Withes Of Willow. It Meant A Delay Of At Least An Hour Each Time;

That Is Five Hours Each Day. But The Time Was Wisely Spent. The

Days Were Lengthening; He Could Travel Much At Dusk. Soon He Was

Among Settlements. Rumours He Got At A Settler's Cabin Of Sir

George Prevost's Attack On Sackett's Harbour And The Gallant

Repulse And At Morning Of The Fourth Day He Came On The Hill

Above Sackett's Harbour -- The Same Hill Where He Had Stood Three

Months Before. It Was With Something Like A Clutching Of His

Breath That He Gazed; His Past Experiences Suggested Dreadful

Thoughts But No -- Thank God,  "Old Glory" Floated From The Pole.

He Identified Himself To The Sentinels And The Guard,  Entered The

Fort At A Trot,  And Reported At Headquarters.

There Was Joy On Every Side. At Last The Tide Had Turned.

Commodore Chauncey,  After Sweeping Lake Ontario,  Had Made A

Sudden Descent On York (Toronto Now) The Capital Of Upper Canada,

Had Seized And Destroyed It. Sir George Prevost,  Taking Advantage

Of Chauncey's Being Away,  Had Attacked Sackett's Harbour,  But,  In

Spite Of The Absence Of The Fleet,  The Resistance Had Been So

Vigorous That In A Few Days The Siege Was Abandoned.

There Were Shot Holes In Walls And Roofs,  There Were A Few

Wounded In The Hospital,  The Green Embankments Were Torn,  And The

Flag-Pole Splintered; But The Enemy Was Gone,  The Starry Flag Was

Floating On The Wind,  And The Sturdy Little Garrison Filled With

A Spirit That Grows Only In Heroes Fighting For Their Homes.

How Joyfully Different From Ogdensburg.

That Very Night,  Rolf Turned Again With The Latest News And The

Commandant's Reports.

He Was Learning The Country Well Now,  And,  With The Wonderful

Place-Memory Of A Woodman,  He Was Able To Follow His Exact Back

Trail. It Might Not Have Been The Best Way,  But It Gave Him This

Advantage -- In Nearly Every Case He Was Able To Use Again The

Raft He Had Made In Coming,  And Thereby Saved Many Hours Of

Precious Time.

On The Way Out He Had Seen A Good Many Deer And One Bear,  And Had

Heard The Howling Of Wolves Every Night; But Always At A

Distance. On The Second Night,  In The Very Heart Of The

Wilderness,  The Wolves Were Noisy And Seemed Very Near. Rolf Was

Camping In The Darkness. He Made A Small Fire With Such Stuff As

He Could Find By Groping,  Then,  When The Fire Blazed,  He

Discovered By Its Light A Dead Spruce Some Twenty Yards Away.

Taking His Hatchet He Went Toward This,  And,  As He Did So,  A Wolf

Rose Up,  With Its Forefeet On A Log,  Only Five Yards Beyond The

Tree And Gazed Curiously At Him. Others Were Heard Calling;

Presently This