These left little doubt that the army was in retreat. Still this
was the mere chatter of the ranks. He curbed his impatience and
trudged with the troop. Once a man dropped back to light his
pipe. He almost touched Rolf, and seeing a marching figure, asked
in unmistakable accents "Oi soi matey, 'ave ye a loight?"
Rolf assumed the low south country English dialect, already
familiar through talking with prisoners, and replied: "Naow, oi
oin't a-smowking," then gradually dropped out of sight.
They were nearly two hours in reaching Chazy where they passed
the Forks, going straight on north. Without doubt, now, the army
was bound for Canada! Rolf sat on a fence near by as their
footsteps went tramp, tramp, tramp -- with the wagons, clank,
clank, clank, and were lost in the northern distance.
He had seen perhaps three hundred men; there were thirteen
thousand to account for, and he sat and waited. He did not have
long to wait; within half an hour a much larger body of troops
evidently was approaching from the south; several lanterns
gleamed ahead of them, so Rolf got over the fence, but it was low
and its pickets offered poor shelter.
Pages:
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461