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covered with blood。 His coat was torn and bloody； his trousers
showed a ragged rent that was reddened and sopping。 His head was
aching； and in his leg was the pain of a cripplement。 He knew it
as soon as he tried to move； his right leg was shattered below
the knee。 The other shots had grazed his arm and head； the latter
had stunned him for a time； but did no deeper damage。
He lay still for a long time； in hopes that some of his friends
might come。 He tried to raise his voice； but had no strength。
Then he remembered the smoke signal that had saved him when he
was lost in the woods。 In spite of his wounded arm； he got out
his flint and steel； and prepared to make a fire。 But all the
small wood he could reach was wet with recent rains。 An old pine
stump was on the bank not far away； he might cut kindling…wood
from that to start his fire； and he reached for his knife。 Alas！
its case was empty。 Had Rolf been four years younger； he might
have broken down and wept at this。 It did seem such an
unnecessary accumulation of disasters。 Without gun or knife； how
was he to call his friends？
He straightened his mangled limb in the position of least pain
and lay for a while。 The September sun fell on his back and
warmed him。 He was parched with thirst； but only thirty yards
away was a little rill。 With a long and fearful crawling on his
breast； he dragged himself to the stream and drank till he could
drink no more； then rested； washed his head and hands； 'and tried
to crawl again to the warm place。 But the sun had dropped behind
the river bank； the little ravine was in shadow； and the chill of
the grave was on the young man's pain…racked frame。
Shadows crossed his brain； among them Si Sylvanne with his quaint
sayings； and one above all was clear：
〃Trouble is only sent to make ye do yer best。 When ye hev done
yer best； keep calm and wait。 Things is comin' all right。〃 Yes；
that was what he said； and the mockery of it hurt him now。
The sunset slowly ended； the night wind blew； the dragging hours
brought gloom that entered in。 This seemed indeed the direst
strait of his lot。 Crippled； dying of cold； helpless； nothing to
do but wait and die； and from his groaning lips there came the
half…forgotten prayer his mother taught him long ago； 〃O God；
have mercy on me！〃 and then he forgot。
When he awoke； the stars were shining； he was numb with cold； but
his mind was clear。
〃This is war；〃 he thought； 〃and God knows we never sought it。〃
And again the thought： 〃When I offered to serve my country； I
offered my life。 I am willing to die； but this is not a way of my
choosing；〃 and a blessed； forgetfulness came upon him again。
But his was a stubborn…fibred race； his spark of life was not so
quickly quenched； its blazing torch might waver； wane； and wax
again。 In the chill； dark hour when the life… lamp flickers most；
he wakened to hear the sweet； sweet music of a dog's loud bark；
in a minute he heard it nearer； and yet again at hand； and
Skookum； erratic； unruly； faithful Skookum； was bounding around
and barking madly at the calm； unblinking stars。
A human 〃halloo〃 rang not far away； then others； and Skookum
barked and barked。
Now the bushes rustled near； a man came out； kneeled down； laid
hand on the dying soldier's brow； and his heart。 He opened his
eyes； the man bent over him and softly said； 〃Nibowaka！ it's Quonab。〃
That night when the victorious rangers had returned to
Plattsburg it was a town of glad； thankful hearts； and human love
ran strong。 The thrilling stories of the day were told； the
crucial moment； the providential way in which at every hopeless
pass； some easy； natural miracle took place to fight their battle
and back their country's cause。 The harrying of the flying
rear…guard； the ambuscade over the hill； the appearance of an
American scout at the nick of time to warn them the shooting；
and his disappearance all were discussed。
Then rollicking Seymour and silent Fiske told of their scouting
on the trail of the beaten foe； and all asked； 〃Where is
Kittering？〃 So talk was rife； and there was one who showed a
knife he had picked up near the ambuscade with R。 K。 on the
shaft。
Now a dark…faced scout rose up； stared at the knife； and quickly
left the room。 In three minutes he stood before General Macomb；
his words were few； but from his heart：
〃It is my boy； Nibowaka； it is Rolf； my heart tells me。 Let me go。
I feel him praying for me to come。 Let me go； general。 I must go。〃
It takes a great man to gauge the heart of a man who seldom speaks。
〃You may go； but how can you find him tonight？〃
〃Ugh； I find him；〃 and the Indian pointed to a little；
prick…eared； yellow cur that sneaked at his heels。
〃Success to you； he was one of the best we had；〃 said the
general； as the Indian left； then added： 〃Take a couple of men
along； and； here； take this；〃 and he held out a flask。
Thus it was that the dawning saw Rolf on a stretcher carried by
his three scouting partners； while Skookum trotted ahead； looking
this way and that they should surely not be ambushed this time。
And thus the crowning misfortune； the culminating apes of
disaster the loss of his knife the thing of all others that
roused in Rolf the spirit of rebellion； was the way of life；
his dungeon's key； the golden chain that haled him from the pit。
Chapter 85。 The Hospital； the Prisoners； and Home
There were wagons and buckboards to be had； but the road was
rough； so the three changed off as litter…bearers and brought him
to the lake where the swift and smooth canoe was ready； and two
hours later they carried him into the hospital at Plattsburg。
The leg was set at once； his wounds were dressed； he was warmed；
cleaned； and fed； and when the morning sun shone in the room； it
was a room of calm and peace。
The general came and sat beside him for a time； and the words he
spoke were ample； joyful compensation for his wounds。 MacDonough；
too； passed through the ward； and the warm vibrations of his
presence drove death from many a bed whose inmate's force ebbed
low； whose soul was walking on the brink； was near surrender。
Rolf did not fully realize it then； but long afterward it was
clear that this was the meaning of the well…worn words； 〃He
filled them with a new spirit。〃
There was not a man in the town but believed the war was over；
there was not a man in the town who doubted that his country's
cause was won。
Three weeks is a long time to a youth near manhood； but there was
much of joy to while away the hours。 The mothers of the town came
and read and talked。 There was news from the front。 There were
victories on the high seas。 His comrades came to sit beside him；
Seymour； the sprinter； as merry a soul as ever hankered for the
stage and the red cups of life； Fiske； the silent； and McGlassin；
too； with his dry； humorous talk； these were the bright and funny