They kept close in the black shadow, and halted in a cavern-like spot well known to them from intimate acquaintance.
Richard Rogers had been sent scouting by his brother, and came in with news.
"There will be marching on the morrow.

Some soldiers will leave the fort for the nearest camp; I could not gather how many, but there will be some marching through the forest.

If we post ourselves near to the road by which they will pass, we may do some havoc ere they know our whereabouts." This was work entirely to the liking of the Rangers.

Before dawn they were posted in their ambush, and allowed themselves a few hours of repose, but lighted no fire.

They must not draw attention to themselves.
They were awake and astir with the first light of the tardy dawn, eagerly listening whilst they looked to the priming of their arms, and exchanged whispered prognostications.
Then came the expected sound--the tramp, tramp, tramp of a number of men on the march.
"Hist!" whispered Rogers, "lie low, and reserve your fire.