“True,” the lad admitted, “but there will soon be only five. When you have moved the stuff, I shall set off for the encampment, taking Dan with me as far as the swamp-road, for I count on sending him to Fort Edward with a report.”
An hour later the site for the new shelter had been selected, and the goods carried over. Then Ira and Dan embarked in one of the canoes, and paddled off up the swelling stream. The water had risen so high that the voyagers were able to push the light craft through the forest to a place where young Cushing could step directly out upon the highway. As he did so, he gazed over the increasing waters and said:
“Give us another twenty-four hours, Ira, an’ this road will be covered.”
“It looks so,” the latter replied, “and I think, by picking my way, I can push up the swamp to the north side.”
“You surely can by goin’ back to the creek, an’ runnin’ on that till it turns to the west. Hide your boat somewhere up that way, an’ you can come down to us any time you’ve a mind.”
“Very-well,” Ira answered; “but now for the message to General Schuyler. Here is a rough drawing of the road, the swamp, and the dam. I have written no description, and it will mean nothing to any one but you. Do you understand it.”
“It’s clear as a bell,” the lad admitted a moment later.
“Then you can explain it to the general. Tell him why we built the dam, and what we hope to accomplish by it. Give us two days more, and I see no way for the red-coats to pass the swamp while the dam holds.”
“That’s ’bout the size of it,” Dan replied grimly, “an’ no one will see it quicker than the general. ’Twas a lucky minute when it popped into your head, Ira,” and with this compliment he swung down the roads towards the fort.
Ira watched until he was out of sight, and then paddled leisurely back to the creek. Up this he went to its westward bend, and, leaving it, glided through the woods as long as he found any depth of water. Then, picking up the light craft, he carried it to a point where the land rose into something like a hill.