"There will be marching on the morrow. Some soldiers will leave the
fort for the nearest camp; I could not gather how many, but there
will be some marching through the forest. If we post ourselves near
to the road by which they will pass, we may do some havoc ere they
know our whereabouts."

This was work entirely to the liking of the Rangers. Before dawn
they were posted in their ambush, and allowed themselves a few
hours of repose, but lighted no fire. They must not draw attention
to themselves.

They were awake and astir with the first light of the tardy dawn,
eagerly listening whilst they looked to the priming of their arms,
and exchanged whispered prognostications.

Then came the expected sound--the tramp, tramp, tramp of a number
of men on the march.

"Hist!" whispered Rogers, "lie low, and reserve your fire. These
sound too many for us."

The men kept watch, and saw the soldiers file by. There were close
upon two hundred. It would have been madness to attack them, and
the Rangers looked at one another in disappointment.

"Cheer up! there may be more to come," suggested Rogers; and before
another hour had passed, their listening ears were rewarded by the
sound of a bugle call, and in a few minutes more the trampling of
feet was heard once again, and this time the sound was less and