Several small fires had been started, and around these the men gathered. The night was cool, and a stiff wind from the northwest swayed the tops of the great trees. Had it not been for the serious business upon which they were bent, the Loyalists would have enjoyed the outing immensely. But the thought of what lay ahead was ever with them. There was something uncanny about this camping-spot in the forest, and they often glanced apprehensively toward the walls of blackness which surrounded them. They were not cowards, for their courage had been fully proved in many a hard fight. Even the Colonel felt somewhat depressed as the night wore on. It seemed weird and unnatural, this mode of warfare against a skulking enemy. If he could only lead his men against the rebels out in the open it would have been different. But this waiting for hours, and with no apparent method of attack, was hard for him to endure.
The rangers, on the other hand, did not mind it in the least. This was their life, and they took it as a matter of course. Dane, especially, was at his ease. He was glad of the rest, as he had been on the move all day. But he was anxious to get through with the job that he might return to Jean. He had asked the Colonel about her, and they had talked apart for some time.
"I hope she is not too much distressed over this affair," he said.
"She is naturally worried," was the reply. "But she has great confidence in the rangers—and in you," he added after a slight pause. "I agree with her, and feel greatly indebted to you and Pete for what you have done. I hope we may be able to settle the rebels once and for all."
"I don't think there is any doubt about it. So far, our plans have worked without a hitch, and Davidson is an old reliable hand at such work. Strategy with him is the main thing, and it has proven useful on many occasions ere this. He always avoids bloodshed as far as possible."
It was a great relief to the weary Loyalists when Davidson at last bestirred himself, and told all to get ready for the march to the lake. The band was at once divided into five groups, each containing several rangers, who were well acquainted with their leader's plans. Dane stayed close by the Colonel, carried his musket, and assisted him when his steps lagged. It was a slow, toilsome journey through the forest on that cold, frosty morning. There were hills to climb, and swamps to cross. It would have been hard work even in the daytime, but night added to the difficulty of the undertaking. The Loyalists, not accustomed to such travelling, often stumbled and tripped over stones and snags. But the rangers walked as if on a beaten highway, and proved of great assistance to the less skilful. No one complained, however, and when any one spoke, it was in a subdued voice. The Colonel strove bravely to hold his own with the younger men. But he was becoming very weary, and more than once he leaned on Dane's arm for support.
"I am sorry to burden you" he said, "but this trip is almost too much for me."
"I am afraid it is," was the reply. "You should have stayed at home and let us attend to the rebels."
"I suppose I should have done that," and the Colonel sighed as he paused for a minute on the brow of a hill they had just climbed. "But I want to do my part. I did it during the war to the best of my ability. Jean was proud of me then, and I do not want her to be ashamed of me now."
Dane was about to reply when a slight sound from one of the rangers sealed his lips. He knew that it spelled danger, and that caution was needed.