“Hurrah! it is moving!” cried Dave.
He was right, and after straining for a minute more the huge rock rolled over and went crashing into another hollow below.
When Heppy and the Indian came out of the hole it was found they were somewhat bruised, but otherwise all right.
The wind still blew strongly, but the fury of the blast had spent itself, and they easily made themselves safe under the fallen trees, after looking to it that the giants of the forest were in no danger of rolling over and crushing them.
The next day found them again on the journey. They now skirted a valley where, in a sheltered spot, they saw a herd of deer. Two of the animals were laid low by Barringford and White Buffalo, and these gave them meat until the trip came to an end.
It was nearly the last of March when the party came in sight of the St. Lawrence, almost opposite to Quebec. An English outpost was not far distant, and they marched to this, where they were promptly challenged by a sentry, and escorted under guard to the officer in command.
“You have come a long distance, truly,” said the officer, after examining the passes they carried. “It is more of a journey than I should wish to take in such weather as this.”
“May I ask if you have had any battles with the French since Quebec was taken?” asked Dave.
“Not of much account. They tried to rout us out once or twice, but we beat them off easily. There is, however, a rumor that they intend to descend upon us in force early this spring, so if you remain here a while you may see more fighting.”
The ice on the river was now breaking up, and Dave and the others, after bidding a temporary farewell to White Buffalo and his followers, crossed the stream in a bateau which the English officer loaned them. They were soon on the opposite shore, and half an hour later found them in Quebec, and on the way to General Murray’s local headquarters.