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.
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