In the second day of their reconnoitering above Stony Point they came suddenly upon a British outpost.  They were discovered and pursued but succeeded in eluding the enemy.  Soon a large party began beating the bush with hounds.  Jack escaped by hiding behind a waterfall.  Solomon had a most remarkable adventure in making his way northward.  Hearing the dogs behind him he ran to the shore of a bay, where a big drive of logs had been boomed in, and ran over them a good distance and dropped out of sight.  He lay between two big sections of a great pine with his nose above water for an hour or so.  A band of British came down to the shore and tried to run the logs but, being unaccustomed to that kind of work, were soon rolled under and floundering to their necks.

“I hadn’t na skeer o’ their findin’ me,” Solomon said to Jack. “’Cause they was a hundred acres o’ floatin’ timber in that ’ere bay.  I heard ‘em slippin’ an’ sloshin’ eround nigh shore a few minutes an’ then they give up an’ went back in the bush.  They were a strip o’ open water ‘twixt the logs an’ the shore an’ I clumb on to the timber twenty rod er more from whar I waded in so’s to fool the dogs.”

“What did you do with your rifle an’ powder?” Jack inquired.

“Wal, ye see, they wuz some leetle logs beyond me that made a kind o’ a holler an’ I jest put ol’ Marier ’crost ’em an’ wound the string o’ my powder-horn on her bar’l.  I lay thar a while an’ purty soon I heard a feller comin’ on the timber.  He were clus up to me when he hit a log wrong an’ it rolled him under.  I dim’ up an’ grabbed my rifle an’ thar were ’nother cuss out on the logs not more’n ten rod erway.  He took a shot at me, but the bullet didn’t come nigh ’nough so’s I could hear it whisper he were bobbin’ eround so.  I lifted my gun an’ says I: 

“‘Boy, you come here to me.’

“But he thought he’d ruther go somewhar else an’ he did—­poor, ignorant devil!  I went to t’ other feller that was rasslin’ with a log tryin’ to git it under him.  He’d flop the log an’ then it would flop him.  He’d throwed his rifle ‘crost the timber.  I goes over an’ picks it up an’ says I: 

“‘Take it easy, my son.  I’ll help ye in a minute.’

“His answer wa’n’t none too p’lite.  He were a leetle runt of a sergeant.  I jest laughed at him an’ went to t’ other feller an’ took the papers out o’ his pockets.  I see then a number o’ British boys was makin’ fer me on the wobbly top o’ the river.  They’d see me goin’ as easy as a hoss on a turnpike an’ they was tryin’ fer to git the knack o’ it.  In a minute they begun poppin’ at me.  But shootin’ on logs is like tryin’ to walk a line on a wet deck in a hurricane.  Ye got to know how to offset the wobble.  They didn’t skeer me.  I went an’ hauled that runt out o’ the water an’ with him under my right arm an’ the two rifles under the left un I started treadin’ logs headin’ fer the north shore.  They