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He reached the woods absolutely unchallenged。 After a few yards
in its friendly shade； he dropped the thorny bundle and strode
swiftly toward his own camp。 He had not gone a hundred yards
before a voice of French type cried 〃'Alt；〃 and he was face to
face with a sentry whose musket was levelled at him。
A quick glance interchanged； and each gasped out the other's
name。
〃Francois la Colle！〃
〃Rolf Kittering！ Mon Dieu！ I ought to shoot you； Rolf； I cannot；
I cannot！ But run； run！ I'll shoot over your head；〃 and his
kindly eyes filled with tears。
Rolf needed no second hint； he ran like a deer； and the musket
ball rattled the branches above his shoulders。
In a few minutes other soldiers came running and from La Colle
they heard of the hostile spy in camp。
〃I shoot； I t'ink maybe I not hit eem； maybe some brood dere？ No；
dat netting。〃
There were both runners and trackers in camp。 They were like
bloodhounds and they took up the trail of the fugitive。 But Rolf
was playing his own game now； he was 〃Flying Kittering。〃 A
crooked trail is hard to follow； and； going at the long stride
that had made his success； he left many a crook and turn。 Before
two miles I they gave it up and the fugitive coming to the river
drank a deep and cooling draught； the first he had had that day。
Five miles through is the dense forest that lies between La Colle
and the border。 He struck a creek affluent of the Richelieu River and
followed to its forks； which was the place of rendezvous with Quonab。
It was evening as he drew near and after long； attentive
listening he gave the cry of the barred owl：
The answer came： a repetition of the last line； and a minute
later the two scouts were together。
As they stood； they were startled by a new； sudden answer； an
exact repetition of the first call。 Rolf had recovered his rifle
from its hiding place and instantly both made ready for some
hostile prowler； then after a long silence he gave the final wail
line 〃hoooo…aw〃 and that in the woods means； 〃Who are you？〃
Promptly the reply came：
〃Wa wah wa wah Wa wah wa hoooo…aw。〃
But this was the wrong reply。 It should have been only the last
half。 The imitation was perfect； except； perhaps； on the last
note； which was a trifle too human。 But the signal was well done；
it was an expert calling； either an Indian or some thoroughly
seasoned scout； yet Quonab was not deceived into thinking it an
owl。 He touched his cheek and his coat； which； in the scout sign
language； means 〃red coat；〃 i。 e。； Britisher。
Rolf and his partner got silently out of sight； each with his
rlile cocked and ready to make a hole in any red uniform or badge
that might show itself。 Then commenced a very peculiar duel； for
evidently the enemy was as clever as themselves and equally
anxious to draw them out of cover。
Wa…wah…wa hooo…aw called the stranger； giving the right answer in
the wrong place。 He was barely a hundred yards off； and； as the
two strained their senses to locate him； they heard a faint click
that told of his approach。
Rolf turned his head and behind a tree uttered again the Wa…wah
…a … hoo which muffled by his position would convince the foe
that he was retreating。 The answer came promptly and much nearer：
Wa … wah … wa … hoooo…aw。
Good！ the medicine was working。 So Rolf softened his voice still
more； while Quonab got ready to shoot。
The Wa … wa … hooo…aw that came in answer this time was
startlingly clear and loud and nearly perfect in intonation； but
again betrayed by the human timbre of the aw。 A minute or two
more and they would reach a climax。
After another wait； Rolf muffled his voice and gave the single
hooo…aw； and a great broad…winged owl came swooping through the
forest； alighted on a tree overhead； peered about； then thrilled
them with his weird：
Wa … hoo … wa … boo
Wa … hoo …wa … hooooooooo…aw； the last note with the singular
human quality that had so completely set them astray。
Chapter 77。 Why Plattsburg Was Raided
The owl's hull reputation for wisdom is built up on lookin' wise
and keepin' mum。 Sayings of St Sylvanne
THE owl incident was one of the comedies of their life； now they
had business on hand。 The scraps of news brought by Quonab pieced
out with those secured by Rolf； spelt clearly this： that Colonel
Murray with about a thousand men was planning a raid on
Plattsburg。
Their duty was to notify General Hampton without delay。
Burlington； forty miles away； was headquarters。 Plattsburg；
twenty miles away； was marked for spoil。
One more item they must add： Was the raid to baby land or water？
If the latter； then they must know what preparations were being
made at the British naval station； Isle au Noix。 They travelled
all night through the dark woods； to get there； though it was but
seven miles away； and in the first full light they saw the
gallant array of two warships； three gunboats； and about fifty
long boats； all ready； undoubtedly waiting only for a change in
the wind； which at this season blew on Champlain almost steadily
form the south。
A three…hour； ten…mile tramp through ways now familiar brought
Rolf and his partner to the north of the Big Chazy where the
canoe was hidden； and without loss of time they pushed off for
Burlington； thirty miles away。 The wind was head on； and when
four hours later they stopped for noon； they had made not more
than a dozen miles。
All that afternoon they had to fight a heavy sea； this meant they
must keep near shore in case of an upset； and so lengthened the
course； but it also meant that the enemy would not move so long
as this wind kept up。
It was six at night before the scouts ran into Burlington Harbour
and made for Hampton's headquarters。
His aide received them and； after learning that they had news；
went in to the general。 From the inner room now they heard in
unnecessarily loud tones the great man's orders to； 〃Bring them
in； sah。〃
The bottles on the table； his purple visage； and thick tongued
speech told how well…founded were the current whispers。
〃Raid on Plattsburg？ Ha！ I hope so。 I only hope so。 Gentlemen；〃
and he turned to his staff； 〃all I ask is a chance to get at them
Ha； Ha！ Here； help yourself； Macomb；〃 and the general pushed
the decanter to a grave young officer who was standing by。
〃No； thank you； sir；〃 was the only reply。
The general waved his hand； the scouts went out； puzzled and
ashamed。 Was this the brains of the army？ No wonder our men are
slaughtered。
Now Macomb ventured to suggest： 〃Have you any orders； sir？ These
scouts are considered quite reliable。 I understand from them that
the British await only a change of wind。 They have between one
thousand and two thousand men。〃
〃Plenty of time in the morning； sah。 Plattsburg will be the bait
of my trap； not one of them shall return alive；〃 and the genera