The cow-paths answered as guides for quite a mile, Mike being thoroughly acquainted with all their sinuosities.  The captain and serjeant, however, each carried a pocket compass, an instrument without which few ventured far into the forests.  Then the blows of the axes served as sounds to let the adventurers know their relative position, and, as they circled the place whence they issued, they gave the constant assurance of their own progress, and probable security.

The reader will probably comprehend the nature of the ground over which our party was now marching.  The ‘flats’ proper, or the site of the old Beaver Dam, have already been described.  The valley, towards the south, terminated at the rocks of the mill, changing its character below that point, to a glen, or vast ravine.  On the east were mountains of considerable height, and of unlimited range; to the north, the level land extended miles, though on a platform many feet higher than the level of the cleared meadows; while, to the west, along the route the adventurers were marching, broad slopes of rolling forest spread their richly-wooded surfaces, filled with fair promise for the future.  The highest swell of this undulating forest was that nearest to the Hut, and it was its elevation only that gave the home-scene the character of a valley.

Captain Willoughby’s object was to gain the summit of this first ridge of land, which would serve as a guide to his object, since it terminated at the line of rocks that made the water-fall, quite a mile, however, in the rear of the mills.  It would carry him also quite beyond the clearing of the wood-choppers, and be effectually turning the whole of the enemy’s position.  Once at the precipitous termination caused by the face of rock that had been thrown to the surface by some geological phenomenon, he could not miss his way, since these rugged marks must of themselves lead him directly to the station known to be occupied by the body of his foes.

Half an hour served to reach the desired ridge, when the party changed its march, pursuing a direction nearly south, along its summit.

“Those axes sound nearer and nearer, serjeant,” Captain Willoughby observed, after the march had lasted a long time in profound silence.  “We must be coming up near the point where the men are at work.”

“Does your honour reflect at all on the reason why these fellows are so particularly industrious in a time like this?—­To me it has a very ambuscadish sort of look!”

“It cannot be connected with an ambuscade, Joyce, inasmuch as we are not supposed to be on a march.  There can be no ambuscade, you will remember, practised on a garrison.”

“I ask your honour’s pardon—­may not a sortie be ambushed, as well as a march?”

“In that sense, perhaps, you may be right.  And, now you mention it, I think it odd there should be so much industry at wood-chopping, in a moment like this.  We will halt as soon as the sounds are fairly abreast of us, when you and I can reconnoitre the men, and ascertain the appearance of things for ourselves.”