It was plain that the retreating Tory army had passed over this bridge, and that their rearguard had set it afire.

I said to Boyd, pointing across the southern end of the lake:

“From what I have read of Braddock’s Field, yonder terrain most astonishingly resembles it. What an ambuscade could Butler lay for our army yonder, within shot of this crossing!”

“Pray God he lays it,” said Boyd between his teeth.

“Yet, we could get at him better beyond those rocky gashes,” I muttered, using my spyglass.

“Butler is there,” said the Mohican, calmly.

Both Boyd and I searched the wooded bluffs in vain for any