With a grateful hand shake he left the house to cover the
fourteen miles that lay between Chazy and Plattsburg.
Refreshed and fed, young and strong, the representative of a just
and victorious cause, how he exulted in that run, rejoicing in
his youth, his country, his strength, his legs, his fame as a
runner. Starting at a stride he soon was trotting; then, when the
noon hour came, he had covered a good six miles. Now he heard
faint, far shots, and going more slowly was soon conscious that a
running fight was on between his own people and the body of
British sent westward to hold the upper Saranac.
True to the instinct of the scout, his first business was to find
out exactly what and where they were. From a thick tree top he
saw the red-coats spotting an opening of the distant country.
Then they were lost sight of in the woods. The desultory firing
became volley firing, once or twice. Then there was an interval
of silence. At length a mass of red-coats appeared on the highway
within half a mile. They were travelling very fast, in full
retreat, and were coming his way. On the crest of the hill over
which the road ran, Rolf saw them suddenly drop to the ground and
take up position to form a most dangerous ambuscade, and half a
mile away, straggling through the woods, running or striding,
were the men in the colours he loved.
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