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Updated: June 18, 2025
He dared not erupt into the bushwhacker campsite, or could he? If Croff and Webb were now making their way to the heights above, ready to fire into the camp as they had planned, wouldn't that keep the men there busy and cover his own break into the valley? He heard firing again; this time the sound was ahead of him.
Quartering the pocket valley, galloped the wolverines, expressing in that wild activity their delight in this freedom. "Good campsite." Thorvald shook his head. "We can't stay here." And, to underline that gloomy prophesy, there issued from that hole through which they had just come, muffled and broken, but still threatening, the howl of the Throgs' hound.
Spluttering and coughing he sat up and saw that the campfire was out and the campsite was already six inches deep in water. "Roger, Astro!" he called and slapped the nearest sleeping bag. Astro opened the flap a little and peered out sleepily. Instantly he rolled out of the bag and jumped to his feet. "Wake Roger up!" he snapped. "We've got to get out of here!" "What's the matter?"
"See anything of 'em, Frank?" wheezed Jerry a bit later, as he kept his machine close behind the leader; for somehow in this race for the campsite Frank just naturally forged to the front from mere force of habit. "Thought I had a peep of something moving ahead soon know," came the answer.
One of the Union officers who saw visions of rapid advancement over the wreckage of Mosby's Rangers was a captain of the First Vermont, Josiah Flint by name. He was soon to have a chance at it. On March 31, Mosby's Rangers met at Middleburg and moved across the mountain to Chantilly, expecting to take a strong outpost which had been located there. On arriving, they found the campsite deserted.
When the party again took up the march around the southern end of the pool the owner of the eyes followed them large, round eyes, almost expressionless except for a certain cold cruelty which glinted malignly from under their pale gray irises. All unconscious of the stalker, the men came, late in the afternoon, to a spot which seemed favorable as a campsite.
First, he had not been able to find the strong-jaws's den. Then the marks on the ground at the point from which he had fallen and the L-B were here, just as he remembered. But not far from the small ship he had discovered something more a campsite with a shelter fashioned out of spalls and vines, containing possessions a castaway might have accumulated.
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