As Redcoat raced back across the meadows, the pack in full cry behind him, he saw first the slender trail over which the great thunderer crossed the river and the other bridge above it.
Ordinarily the ice on the river would have been several inches thick, but this morning it had been just strong enough to hold Redcoat when he had crossed and as the water was rising the ice had entirely broken up in two hours' time and there was no chance of returning to his beloved mountain by crossing on the ice.
As Redcoat came to the north end of the meadow he noted the trail by which the thunderer crossed and the thought came to him there was a way over, yet in order to reach it he would have to run almost into the haunts of men. He could see them passing on the traffic bridge above the railroad bridge, and over the city was the chimney smoke of hundreds of houses. It was a great chance, but the pack was now only about a hundred yards away. Then, on the clear morning air, plainly heard above all
