Suddenly they heard a loud whooping in the distance and looking back into the valley they saw a great flare of light.

“They’ve put the torch to the tavern and will have a dance,” said Solomon.  “We got out jest in time.”

“I am afraid for the Little White Birch,” said Jack.

“They’ll let her alone.  She is one of the wives of ol’ Theandenaga.  She will lead the Dutchman an’ his family to the house o’ the great chief.  She won’t let ’em be hurt if she kin help it.  She knowed they was a’ter us.”

“Why do they want to kill us?” Jack queried.

“‘Cause they’re goin’ to fight with the British an’ we shoot so damn well they want to git us out o’ the way an’ do it sly an’ without gittin’ hurt.  But fer the squaw, we’d be hoppin’ eround in that ’ere loft like a pair o’ rats.  They’d ‘a’ sneaked the Dutchman an’ his folks outdoors with tommyhawks over their heads and scattered grease an’ gunpowder an’ boughs on the floor, an’ set ‘er goin’ an’ me an’ you asleep above the ladder.  I reckon we’d had to do some climbin’ an’ they’s no tellin’ where we’d ‘a’ landed, which there ain’t do doubt ’bout that.”

Solomon seemed to know his way by an instinct like that of a dog.  They were in the deep woods, traveling by snow light without a trail.  Jack felt sure they were going wrong, but he said nothing.  By and by there was a glow in the sky ahead.  The snow had ceased falling and the heavens were clear.

“Ye see we’re goin’ right,” said Solomon.  “The sun’ll be up in half an hour, but afore we swing to the trail we better git a bite.  Gulf Brook is down yender in the valley an’ I’d kind o’ like to taste of it.”

They proceeded down a long, wooded slope and came presently to the brook whose white floored aisle was walled with evergreen thickets heavy with snow.  Beneath its crystal vault they could hear the song of the water.  It was a grateful sound for they were warm and thirsty.  Near the point where they deposited their packs was a big beaver dam.

Solomon took his ax and teapot and started up stream.

“Want to git cl’ar ’bove,” said he.

“Why?” Jack inquired.

“This ’ere is a beaver nest,” said Solomon.

He returned in a moment with his pot full of beautiful clear water of which they drank deeply.

“Ye see the beavers make a dam an’ raise the water,” Solomon explained.  “When it gits a good ice roof so thick the sun won’t burn a hole in it afore spring, they tap the dam an’ let the water out.  Then they’ve got a purty house to live in with a floor o’ clean water an’ a glass roof an’ plenty o’ green popple sticks stored in the corners to feed on.  They have stiddy weather down thar—­no cold winds ’er deep snow to bother ’em.  When the roof rots an’ breaks in the sunlight an’ slides off they patch up the dam with mud an’ sticks an’ they’ve got a swimmin’ hole to play in.”

They built a fire and spread their blankets on a bed of boughs and had some hot tea and jerked meat and slices of bread soaked in bacon fat.