It had been decided that the six should move down the lake in two small rowboats, each carrying its share of the stores taken along. Everybody was to take his turn at rowing, and the boats were to move along in the dark as well as during the daytime. By this means it was hoped that the distance, about a hundred and thirty miles, would be covered in less than three days.
“All ready?” asked Silvers, when the dishes were put away.
“All ready,” was the answer, from one and another. Then they entered the two rowboats, took up the oars, and before the morning sun shone over the surface of the placid lake the journey down the broad sheet of water was begun.
CHAPTER IV
A SQUALL ON LAKE ONTARIO
“If General Wolfe has suffered a heavy defeat it means a hard blow to our cause,” observed Dave, as the two rowboats glided over the water a short distance from each other.
“You are right,” answered the backwoodsman named Raymond. “Everybody was hoping he would sail right up the St. Lawrence and capture Quebec before the French were up to what he was doing.”
“I don’t think this war is over yet,” put in Gilfoy, a round-faced Irish-American. “Sure, when you sift it down, the French can fight as well as any of us, and they have just as many redskins to help ’em out as we have.”
“I think they have more,” put in Henry. “They have been buying up tribe after tribe with all sorts of presents and bribes—I heard Sir William himself say so.”
“I wish they had sent George Washington to Quebec,” came from Dave. “I don’t think he would have failed.”