t 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 f