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Taking his hatchet he went toward this； and； as he did so； a wolf
rose up； with its forefeet on a log； only five yards beyond the
tree and gazed curiously at him。 Others were heard calling；
presently this wolf raised its muzzle and uttered a long smooth
howl。
Rolf had left his pistol back at the fire； he dared not throw his
hatchet； as that would have left him unarmed。 He stooped； picked
up a stick； and threw that； the wolf ducked so that it passed
over； then； stepping back from the log； stood gazing without
obvious fear or menace。 The others were howling； Rolf felt
afraid。 He backed cautiously to the fire； got his pistol and came
again to the place； but nothing more did he see of the wolf；
though he heard them all night and kept up two great fires for a
protection。
In the morning he started as usual； and before half an hour he
was aware of a wolf； and later of two； trotting along his trail；
a few hundred yards behind。 They did not try to overtake him；
indeed； when he stopped； they did the same； and when he trotted；
they； true to their dog…like nature； ran more rapidly in pursuit。
How Rolf did wish for his long rifle； but they gave no
opportunity for a shot with the pistol。 They acted； indeed； as
though they knew their safe distance and the exact range of the
junior gun。 The scout made a trap for them by stealing back after
he had crossed a ridge； and hiding near his own trail。 But the
wind conveyed a warning； and the wolves merely sat down and
waited till he came out and went on。 All day long these two
strange ban dogs followed him and gave no sign of hunger or
malice； then； after he crossed a river； at three in the
afternoon； he saw no more of them。 Years after； when Rolf knew
them better； he believed they followed him out of mild curiosity；
or possibly in the hope that he would kill a deer in which they
might share。 And when they left him； it was because they were
near the edge of their own home region； they had seen him off
their hunting grounds。
That night he camped sixty miles from Ticonderoga； but he was
resolved to cover the distance in one day。 Had he not promised to
be back in a week？ The older hands had shaken their heads
incredulously； and he； in the pride of his legs； was determined
to be as good as his promise。 He scarcely dared sleep lest he
should oversleep。 At ten he lay down。 At eleven the moon was due
to rise； as soon as that was three hours high there would be
light enough； and he proposed to go on。 At least half a dozen
times he woke with a start； fearing he had overslept； but
reassured by a glance at the low…hung moon； he had slumbered
again。
At last the moon was four hours high； and the woods were plain in
the soft light。 A horned owl 〃hoo…hoo…ed；〃 and a far… off wolf
uttered a drawn…out； soft； melancholy cry； as Rolf finished his
dried meat； tightened his belt； and set out on a long； hard run
that； in the days of Greece； would have furnished the theme of
many a noble epic poem。
No need to consult his compass。 The blazing lamp of the dark sky
was his guide； straight east his course； varied a little by hills
and lakes； but nearly the crow…flight line。 At first his pace was
a steady； swinging stride； then after a mile he came to an open
lake shore down which he went at a six…mile trot； and then an
alder thicket through which his progress was very slow； but that
soon passed； and for half a mile he splashed through swamps with
water a foot deep： nor was he surprised at length to see it open
into a little lake with a dozen beaver huts in view。 〃Splash；
prong〃 their builders went at his approach； but he made for the
hillside； the woods were open； the moonlight brilliant now； and
here he trotted at full swing as long as the way was level or
down； but always walked on the uphill。 A sudden noise ahead was
followed by a tremendous crashing and crackling of the brush。 For
a moment it continued； and what it meant； Rolf never knew or
guessed。
〃Trot； trot；〃 he went； reeling off six miles in the open； two or
perhaps three in the thickets； but on and on； ever eastward。 Hill
after hill； swamp after swamp； he crossed； lake after lake he
skirted round； and； when he reached some little stream； he sought
a log bridge or prodded with a pole till he found a ford and
crossed； then ran a mile or two to make up loss of time。
Tramp； tramp； tramp； and his steady breath and his steady heart
kept unremitting rhythm。
Chapter 73。 Rolf Makes a Record
Twelve miles were gone when the foreglow the first cold
dawn…light showed； and shining across his path ahead was a mighty
rolling stream。 Guided by the now familiar form of Goodenow Peak
he made for this； the Hudson's lordly flood。 There was his raft
securely held； with paddle and pole near by； and he pushed off
with all the force of his young vigour。 Jumping and careening
with the stream in its freshet flood； the raft and its hardy
pilot were served with many a whirl and some round spins； but the
long pole found bottom nearly everywhere； and not ten minutes
passed before the traveller sprang ashore； tied up his craft；
then swung and tramped and swung。
Over the hills of Vanderwhacker； under the woods of Boreas。
Tramp； tramp； splash； tramp； wringing and sopping； but strong and
hot； tramp； tramp； tramp； tramp。 The partridge whirred from his
path； the gray deer snorted； and the panther sneaked aside。
Tramp； tramp； trot； trot； and the Washburn Ridge was blue against
the sunrise。 Trot； trot； over the low； level； mile…long slope he
went； and when the Day… god burnt the upper hill…rim he was by
brown Tahawus flood and had covered eighteen miles。
By the stream he stopped to drink。 A partridge cock； in the pride
of spring； strutted arrogantly on a log。 Rolf drew his pistol；
fired； then hung the headless body while he made a camper's
blaze： an oatcake； the partridge； and river water were his meal。
His impulse was to go on at once。 His reason； said 〃go slow。〃 So
he waited for fifteen minutes。 Then again； beginning with a slow
walk； he ere long added to his pace。 In half an hour he was
striding and in an hour the steady 〃trot； trot；〃 that slackened
only for the hills or swamps。 In an hour more he was on the
Washburn Ridge； and far away in the east saw Schroon Lake that
empties in the river Schroon； and as he strode along； exulting in
his strength； he sang in his heart for joy。 Again a gray wolf
cantered on his trail； and the runner laughed； without a thought
of fear。 He seemed to know the creature better now； knew it as a
brother； for it gave no hostile sound； but only seemed to trot；
trot； for the small joy of running with a runner； as a swallow or
an antelope will skim along by a speeding train。 For an hour or
more it matched his pace； then left as though its pleasant stroll
was done； and Rolf kept on and on and on。
The spring sun soared on high； the day grew warm at noon。 Schroon
River just above the lake was in his path； and here he stopped to
rest。 Here； with the last of his oatcake and a little tea； he
made his final meal； thirty eight miles had he covered since he
rose； his clothes were torn； his moccasins worn； but his legs
were strong； his purpose sure； only twenty…two miles now； and his
duty would be done； his honours won。 What should he do； push on
at once？ No； he meant to rest an hour。 He made a good fire by a
little pool； and using a great mass of caribou moss as a sponge；
he had a thorough rub…down。 He got out his ever… ready needle and
put his moccasins in good shape； he dried his clothes and lay on
his back till the hour was nearly gone。 Then he girded himself
for this the final run。 He was weary； indeed； but he was far from
spent； and the iron will that had yearly grown in force was there
with its unconquerable support。
Slowly at start； soon striding； and at last in the famous jog
trot of the scout he went。 The sky was blackened with clouds at
length； and the jealous； howling east wind rolled up in rain； the
spindrift blurred the way； the heavy showers of spring came down
and drenched him； but his pack was safe and he trotted on and on。
Then long； deep swamps of alder barred his path； and； guided only
by the compass； Rolf pushed in and through and ever east。 Barely
a mile an hour in the thickest part he made； but lagged not；
drenched and footsore； warm and torn； but doggedly； steadily on。
At three he had made a scant seven miles； then the level； open
wood of Thunderbolt was reached and his stride became a run；
trot； trot； trot； at six…mile gait； for but fifteen miles
remained。 Sustained； inspired； the bringer of good news； he
halted not and faltered not； but on and on。
Tramp tramp； tramp tramp endless； tireless； hour by hour。 At
five he was on Thunder Creek； scarce eight miles more to the
goal； his limbs were sore； his feet were sore； bone tired was he；
but his heart was filled with joy
〃News o