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.
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