While I had supposed we were half a dozen miles from the Canadian shore, we must have been within view of those on the foreland, and this squad had come out for no other reason than to capture us, a fact which took much of the burden from my mind, for I had feared we were met by the advance guard of a force sent to attack Presque Isle. “Where do you come from?” the officer asked, in that insolent tone which was usually employed by those holding his Majesty’s commission when addressing one from the American border. There was nothing to be gained by concealing the truth, and I answered the Britisher fairly, save that there was no good reason why I should explain our purpose in being abroad. “Why have you come on this side of the lake?” he asked, and I replied, yet holding to the truth, but not telling all. “We were skating, and had ventured so far from home when the snow began to fall, that it seemed safer to continue on than turn back.” “The question I would have answered is, why did you venture to come so near this side at the beginning? You were well over before the snow began to fall.” “Of that we were ignorant, sir,” Alec replied, speaking as if in fear; and I observed that his tone gave satisfaction to the valiant Britisher, who was pleased at being able to frighten two lads. “We must have skated faster than we fancied, and I do assure you, sir, that neither of us had any idea how near we were to an enemy.” Up to this point it appeared as if we were like to come off from the adventure in safety, and I was beginning to believe no more harm would accrue to us than that of being sent back through the storm at risk of losing our way, when one of the men whispered to the officer, after which the latter asked sharply of me:-- “Are you the son of that Daniel Dobbins who has trafficked on the lake?” It was evident that this soldier, whose face I could not see because of the coat-collar which covered it, had recognized me, and I replied with all the boldness it was possible to assume:-- “I am, sir, and therefore you may know of a certainty from whence we come.” It would have been better had I been less talkative, for now both Alec and I understood that the Britisher’s suspicions were aroused. “Where is your father?” he asked sharply. I would have given much had I been able to reply promptly; but with his question there came into my mind the thought that I might unwittingly betray an important secret, and for the instant speech was well-nigh impossible. Then, after that unfortunate hesitation, I said:-- “I do not know, sir.” “Is he not at home?” “I am unable to say, sir.” “Why? Was he not at home when you left?” Now it was necessary I should explain that Alec and I had been these past three days at the blockhouse, and this statement seemed at variance with the one first made. The Britisher looked at us searchingly for a moment, and then said, much as though speaking to himself:--