Chapter 27 FIRE-FLIES

That night I lay on my blanket in the forest, but slept only three hours, and was awake in the gates of morning before the sun rose, ready to move on to the Wood of Brakabeen, our rendezvous in Schoharie.

Never shall I forget that August day so crowded with events.

And first in the yellow flare of sun-up, on the edge of a pasture where acres