and pointed up toward
one of the rooms--"British officer."

She brought two blankets from a press and led up to the garret. At the
lowest part of the roof was a tiny door to a lumber closet. In this
Rolf spread his blankets, stretched his weary limbs, and soon was sound
asleep.

At dawn the bugles blew, the camp was astir. The officer in the house
arose and took his post on the porch. He was there on guard to protect
the house. His brother officers joined him. Mrs. Hubbell prepared
breakfast. It was eaten silently, so far as Rolf could learn. They paid
for it and, heading their regiment, went away northward, leaving the
officer still on the porch.

Presently Rolf heard a stealthy step in his garret, the closed door was
pushed open, and Mrs. Hubbell's calm, handsome face appeared, as, with a
reassuring nod, she set down a mug of coffee, some bread, and a bowl of
mush and milk. And only those who have travelled and fasted for twelve
hours when they were nineteen know how good it tasted.

From a tiny window ventilator Rolf had a view of the road in front.
A growing din of men prepared him for more troops, but still he was
surprised to see ten regiments march past with all their stores--a brave
army, but no one could mistake their looks; they wore the despondent air
of an army in full retreat.

Chapter 83. The Last of Sir George Prevost

The battle was over at Plattsburg town, though it had not been fought;
for the spirit of MacDonough was on land and water, and it was felt
by the British general, as well as the Yankee riflemen, as soon as the
Union Jack had been hauled from the mast of the Confiance.

Now Sir George Prevost had to face a momentous decision: He could
force the passage of the Saranac and march on to Albany, but his
communications would be cut, and he must rely on a hostile country for
supplies. Every day drew fresh bands of riflemen from the hills. Before
he could get to Albany their number might exceed his, and then what?
Unless Great Britain could send a new army or a fleet to support him, he
must meet the fate of Burgoyne. Prevost proposed to take no such chances
and the night of the 11th eight hours after MacDonough's victory, he
gave the order "Retire to Canada."

To hide the move as long as possible, no change was made till after
sundown; no hint was given to the beleaguered town; they must have no
opportunity to reap the enormous advantages, moral and material, of
harrying a retreating f