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under an overhanging rock gave a good camp that night。 Next day
the bad weather resumed； but； anxious to push on they faced it；
guided chiefly by the wind。 It was northwest； and as long as they
felt this fierce； burning cold mercilessly gnawing on their
hapless tender right cheek bones； they knew they were keeping
their proper main course。
They were glad indeed to rest at dusk and thaw their frozen
faces。 Next day at dawn they were off； at first it was calm； but
the surging of the snow waves soon began again； and the air was
filled with the spray of their lashing till it was hard to see
fifty yards in any direction。 They were making very bad time。 The
fourth day should have brought them to Ogdensburg； but they were
still far off； how far they could only guess； for they had not
come across a house or a settler。
Chapter 69。 Ogdensburg
The same blizzard was raging on the next day when Skookum gave
unequivocal sign talk that he smelled something。
It is always well to find out what stirs your dog。 Quonab looked
hard at Skookum。 That sagacious mongrel was sniffing vigorously；
up in the air； not on the ground； his mane was not bristling； and
the patch of dark hair that every gray or yellow dog has at the
base of his tail； was not lifted。
〃He smells smoke；〃 was the Indian's quick diagnosis。 Rolf pointed
Up the wind and made the sign…talk query。 Quonab nodded。
It was their obvious duty to find out who was their smoky
neighbour。 They were now not so far from the St。 Lawrence； there
was a small chance of the smoke being from a party of the enemy；
there was a large chance of it being from friends； and the
largest chance was that it came from some settler's cabin where
they could get necessary guidance。
They turned aside。 The wind now； instead of on the right cheek；
was square in their faces。 Rolf went forward increasing his pace
till he was as far ahead as was possible without being out of
sight。 After a mile their way led downward； the timber was
thicker； the wind less； and the air no more befogged with flying
snow。 Rolf came to a long； deep trench that wound among the
trees； the snow at the bottom of it was very hard。 This was what
he expected； the trail muffled under new； soft snow； but still a
fresh trail and leading to the camp that Skookum had winded。
He turned and made the sign for them to halt and wait。 Then
strode cautiously along the winding guide line。
In twenty minutes the indications of a settlement increased； and
the scout at length was peering from the woods across the open
down to a broad stream on whose bank was a saw mill； with the
usual wilderness of ramshackle shanties； sheds； and lumber piles
about。
There was no work going on； which was a puzzle till Rolf
remembered it was Sunday。 He went boldly up and asked for the
boss。 His whole appearance was that of a hunter and as such the
boss received him。
He was coming through from the other side and had missed his way
in the storm； he explained。
〃What are ye by trade？〃
〃A trapper。〃
〃Where are ye bound now？〃
〃Well； I'll head for the nearest big settlement； whatever that
is。〃
〃It's just above an even thing between Alexandria Bay and
Ogdensburg。〃
So Rolf inquired fully about the trail to Alexandria Bay that he
did not want to go to。 Why should he be so careful？ The mill
owner was clearly a good American； but the scout had no right to
let any outsider know his business。 This mill owner might be
safe； but he might be unwise and blab to some one who was not all
right。
Then in a casual way he learned that this was the Oswegatchie
River and thirty miles down he would find the town of Ogdensburg。
No great recent events did he hear of； but evidently the British
troops across the river were only awaiting the springtime before
taking offensive measures。
For the looks of it； Rolf bought some tea and pork； but the
hospitable mill man refused to take payment and； leaving in the
direction of Alexandria Bay； Rolf presently circled back and
rejoined his friends in the woods。
A long detour took them past the mill。 It was too cold for
outdoor idling。 Every window was curtained with frost； and not a
soul saw them as they tramped along past the place and down to
continue on the ice of the Oswegatchie。
Pounded by the ceaseless wind； the snow on the ice was harder；
travel was easier； and the same tireless blizzard wiped out the
trail as soon as it was behind them。
Crooked is the river trail； but good the footing； and good time
was made。 When there was a north reach； the snow was extra hard
or the ice clear and the scouts slipped off their snow shoes； and
trotted at a good six…mile gait。 Three times they halted for tea
and rest； but the fact that they were the bearers of precious
despatches； the bringers of inspiring good news； and their goal
ever nearer； spurred them on and on。 It was ten o'clock that
morning when they left the mill； some thirty miles from
Ogdensburg。 It was now near sundown； but still they figured that
by an effort they could reach the goal that night。 It was their
best day's travel； but they were nerved to it by the sense of
triumph as they trotted； and the prospective joy of marching up
to the commandant and handing over the eagerly looked for；
reassuring documents； gave them new strength and ambition。 Yes！
they must push on at any price that night。 Day was over now； Rolf
was leading at a steady trot。 In his hand he held the long trace
of his toboggan； ten feet behind was Quonab with the short trace；
while Skookum trotted before； beside； or behind； as was dictated
by his general sense of responsibility。
It was quite dark now。 There was no moon； the wooded shore was
black。 Their only guide was the broad； wide reach of the river；
sometimes swept bare of snow by the wind； but good travelling at
all times。 They were trotting and walking in spells； going five
miles an hour； Quonab was suffering； but Rolf was young and eager
to finish。 They rounded another reach； they were now on the last
big bend； they were reeling off the miles； only ten more； and
Rolf was so stirred that； instead of dropping to the usual walk
on signal at the next one hundred yards spell； he added to his
trot。 Quonab； taken unawares； slipped and lost his hold of the
trace。 Rolf shot ahead and a moment later there was the crash of
a breaking air…hole； and Rolf went through the ice； clutched at
the broken edge and disappeared； while the toboggan was dragged
to the hole。
Quonab sprung to his feet； and then to the lower side of the
hole。 The toboggan had swung to the same place and the long trace
was tight； without a moment's delay the Indian hauled at it
steadily； heavily； and in a few seconds the head of his companion
reappeared； still clutching that long trace he was safely dragged
from the ice…cold flood； blowing and gasping； shivering and
sopping； but otherwise unhurt。
Now here a new danger presented itself。 The zero wind would soon
turn his clothes to boards。 They stiffened in a few minutes； and
the Indian knew that frozen hands and feet were all too easy in
frozen clothes。
He made at once for the shore； and； seeking the heart of a spruce
thicket； lost no time in building two roaring fires between which
Rolf stood while the Indian made the bed； in which； as soon as he
could be stripped； the lad was glad to hide。 Warm tea and warm
blankets made him warm； but it would take an hour or two to dry
his clothes。 There is nothing more damaging than drying them too
quickly。 Quonab made racks of poles and spent the next two hours
in regulating the fire； watching the clothes； and working the
moccasins。
It was midnight when they were ready and any question of going on
at once was settled by Quonab。 〃Ogdensburg is under arms；〃 he
said。 〃It is not wise to approach by night。〃
At six in the morning they were once more going； stiff with
travel； sore…footed； face…frozen； and chafed by delay； but； swift
and keen； trotting and walking； they went。 They passed several
settlements； but avoided them。 At seven…thirty they had a distant
glimpse of Ogdensburg and heard the inspiring roll of drums； and
a few minutes later from the top of a hill they had a complete
view of the heroic little town to see yes！ plainly enough
that the British flag was flying from the flag pole。
Chapter 70。 Saving the Despatches
Oh； the sickening shock of it！ Rolf did not know till now how
tired he was； how eager to deliver the heartening message； and to
relax a little from the strain。 He felt weak through and through。
There could be no doubt that a disaster had befallen his
country's arms。
His first care was to get out of sight with his sled and those
precious despatches。
Now what should he do？ Nothing till he had fuller information。 He
sent Quonab back with the sled； ins