| “Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and fast blew the blast And the east wind was his breath.” —Longfellow. |
“There is but one explanation to the whole thing,” growled Colonel Owen the next morning. With the two girls for an audience he was voicing his disappointment at the failure of the alert, and incidentally nursing a frost-bitten foot. “And that is that the guide purposely led us astray.”
“But why a guide at all, father?” questioned Harriet. “The highway is easily followed.”
“’Tis the snow,” he explained irritably. “All roads are buried under four or more feet of it. Landmarks are obliterated and the forest but a trackless waste. ’Tis no wonder the fellow lost his way, though, methinks. ’Twas as though he knew our errand, and kept us floundering among the drifts purposely.”
“Belike he did,” observed Harriet. “What with Peggy feeding all the rabble that comes along ’tis small wonder that your plots and plans become known to the rebels. I bethought me the other day when she had that teamster in the kitchen that he was a spy. Now I make no doubt of it.”
“What’s all this?” demanded her father sharply. “What teamster are you talking about, Harriet?”
“’Twas the man who brought the wood, Cousin William,” explained Peggy, trying to speak quietly. “Harriet objected at the time to his being fed, but ’twould have been unkind not to give him cheer when ’twas so cold.”
“But that is no reason why you should talk with him,” sneered Harriet. “I saw that parley you held when he was throwing off the wood.”
“Did you talk to him, Peggy?” Colonel Owen regarded her keenly.
“Why, yes,” she answered. “I went out to scold him because he was piling the wood in such a way that it could not be measured.”