In half an hour he reached the high-road. It was deserted. Then
he heard a cry of the barred owl:
Wa -- wah -- wa -- wah Wa - wah -- wa -- hooooo-aw.
He replied with the last line, and the answer came a repeat of
the whole chant, showing that it might be owl, it might be man;
but it was not the right man, for the final response should have
been the hooooo-aw. Rolf never knew whence it came, but gave no
further heed.
For a long time he sat in a dark corner, where he could watch the
road. There were sounds of stir in the direction of Plattsburg.
Then later, and much nearer, a couple of shots were fired. He
learned afterward that those shots were meant for one of his
friends. At length there was a faint tump ta tump ta. He drew his
knife, stuck it deep in the ground, then held the handle in his
teeth. This acted like a magnifier, for now he heard it plainly
enough -- the sound of a horse at full gallop -- but so far away
that it was five minutes before he could clearly hear it while
standing. As the sound neared, he heard the clank of arms, and
when it passed, Rolf knew that this was a mounted British
officer.
Pages:
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457