CHAPTER X. THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF LITTLE SKIRMISHES
BUT FINALLY GET TO THE MILL.
THE time and the surroundings were such as to bring the spirits of the boys to their lowest ebb.
The gloomy, mysterious woods seemed a world's distance away from their homes, friends and assistance.
The long, tiresome tramp, the violent rainstorm, which had soaked them to their skins, and apparently found its way to their hearts; the muddy, slippery road, with torrents rushing across it, the splashing, searching rivulets from the boughs overhead, were all deeply depressing.
The boys huddled together, as if to gain courage by closer contact.
"Gracious, I never supposed they'd pull off a fight at night, when everybody was tired to death and soaked to a gruel," said Alf Russell in a shivery whisper.
"They fought at Hohenlinden at night, and on the snow," answered Monty Scruggs. "But snow's not so bad as rain, and, then, they didn't have these awful woods. I'd feel much better if we was out in a clearing somewhere."
"Come into line to the left, there," commanded Si, in a low tone. "Deploy, one pace apart. Shorty, take the left out there in the bushes. Don't make no noise, step carefully, and don't shoot till I do."
"Keep near me, Pete, and you won't git lost," said Shorty, as he stepped off into the brush.