With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga Part 3

"You've a long head on those narrow shoulders of yours, neighbor,"

declared Ethan Allen, striking the old ranger heartily on the back.

"That little wile finished them. And this is the boy I saw trailing through the bushes, is it?" and he seized Enoch and turned his face upward that he might the better view his features. "Why, holloa, my little man! I've seen you before surely?"

"It is poor Jonas Harding's eldest lad, neighbor Allen," Bolderwood said. "He's the head of the family now, and bein' sech, had to come along to fight the Yorkers."

"I remember your father," declared Allen, kindly. "A n.o.ble specimen of the Almighty's workmans.h.i.+p. I stopped a night with him once at his cabin--do you remember me?"

As though Nuck could have forgotten it! His youthful mind had made Ethan Allen a veritable hero ever since, placing him upon a pedestal before which he wors.h.i.+pped. But he only nodded for bashfulness.

"You'll make a big man, too," said the giant. "And if you can shoot straight there'll be plenty of chance for you later on. This is only the beginning, 'Siah," he pursued, turning to Bolderwood and letting his huge hand drop from Enoch's head. "There will be court-doings, now--writs, and ejectments, and enough red seals to run the King's court itself. But while the Yorkers are red-sealing us, we'll blue-seal them--if they come over here, eh?" and he went off with a great shout of laughter at his own punning.

The men were minded to scatter but slowly. All were rejoiced that the battle had been a bloodless one; yet none believed the matter ended. The fiasco of the New York sheriff might act as a wet blanket for the time upon the movements of the authorities across the line; but the land speculators were too numerous and active to allow the people of the Grants to remain in peace. Parties of marauders might swoop down at any time upon the more unprotected settlers, drive them out of their homes, destroy their property, and possibly do bodily injury to the helpless people. Methods must be devised to keep these Yorkers on their own side of the disputed line. Those settlers, such as the widow Harding, who were least able to protect themselves, must have the help of their neighbors. The present victory proved the benefit to be derived from concerted action. Now, in the flush of this triumph, the leaders went among the yeomanry who had gathered here and outlined a plan for permanent military organization. In all the colonies at that day, "training bands," or militia, had become popular, made so in part by the interest aroused by the wars with the French and Indians. Many of the men who joined these military companies did not look deeply into the affairs of the colonies, nor were they much interested in politics; but their leaders looked ahead--just as did Ethan Allen and his conferees in the Grants--and realized that an armed yeomanry might some time be called upon to face hirelings of the King.

"Even a lad like you can bear a rifle, and your mother will spare you from the farm for drill," Allen said, with his hand again on Enoch's shoulder, before riding away. "I shall expect to see Jonas Harding's boy at Bennington when word is sent round for the first drill." And Enoch, his heart beating high with pride at this notice, promised to gain his mother's permission if possible.

Bolderwood had already gone, and Lot Breckenridge detained Enoch until after the dinner hour. Lot would have kept him all night, but the latter knew his mother would be anxious to see him safe home, and he started an hour or two before sunset, on the trail which Bolderwood and he had followed early in the morning. Being one of the last to leave James Breckenridge's house, he traveled the forest alone. But he had no feeling of fear. The trails and by-paths were as familiar to him as the streets of his hometown are to a boy of to-day. And the numberless sounds which reached his ears were distinguished and understood by the pioneer boy. The hoa.r.s.e laugh of the jay as it winged its way home over the tree-tops, the chatter of the squirrel in the hollow oak, the sudden scurry of deer in the brake, the barking of a fox on the hillside, were all sounds with which Enoch Harding was well acquainted.

As he crossed a heavily shadowed creek, a splash in the water attracted his particular attention and he crept to the brink in time to see a pair of sleek dark heads moving swiftly down the stream. Soon the heads stopped, bobbed about near a narrow part of the stream, and finally came out upon the bank, one on either side. The trees stood thick together here, and both animals attacked a straight, smooth trunk standing near the creek, their sharp teeth making the chips fly as they worked. They were a pair of beavers beginning a dam for the next winter. Enoch marked the spot well. About January he would come over with Lot, or with Robbie Baker, stop up the mouth of the beaver's tunnel, break in the dome of his house, and capture the family. Beaver pelts were a common article of barter in a country where real money was a curiosity.

But watching the beavers delayed Enoch and it was growing dark in the forest when he again turned his face homewards. He knew the path well enough--the runway he traveled was so deep that he could scarce miss it and might have followed it with his eyes blindfolded,--but he quickened his pace, not desiring to be too late in reaching his mother's cabin.

Unless some neighbor had pa.s.sed and given them the news of the victory at James Breckenridge's they might be worried for fear there had actually been a battle. Deep in the forest upon the mountainside there sounded the human-like scream of a catamount, and the memory of his adventure of the morning was still very vivid in his mind. He began to fear his mother's censure for his delay, too, for Mistress Harding brought up her children to strict obedience and Enoch, man though he felt himself to be because of this day's work, knew he had no business to loiter until after dark in the forest.

He stumbled on now in some haste and was approaching the ford in the wide stream near which he had shot the doe, when a flicker of light off at one side of the trail attracted his attention. It was a newly kindled campfire and the pungent smoke of it reached his nostrils at the instant the flame was apparent to his eyes. He leaped behind a tree and peered through the thickening darkness at the spot where the campfire was built. His heart beat rapidly, for despite the supposed peacefulness of the times there was always the possibility of enemies lurking in the forest. And the settlers had grown wary since the controversy with the Yorkers became so serious.

Enoch was nearing the boundaries of his father's farm now and ever since Simon Halpen had endeavored to evict them and especially since Jonas Harding's death, the possibility of the Yorkers' return had been a nightmare to Enoch. Lying a moment almost breathless behind the tree, he began to recover his presence of mind and fort.i.tude. First he freshened the priming of his gun and then, picking his way cautiously, approached the campfire. Like a shadow he flitted from tree to tree and from brush clump to stump, circling the camp, but ever drawing nearer. With the instinct of the born wood-ranger he took infinite pains in approaching the spot and from the moment he had observed the light he spent nearly an hour in circling about until he finally arrived at a point where he could view successfully the tiny clearing.

Now, at once, he descried a figure sitting before the blaze. The man had his back against a tree and that is why Enoch had found such difficulty at first in seeing him. He was nodding, half asleep, with his cap pulled down over his eyes, so that only the merest outline of his face was revealed. It was apparent that he had eaten his own supper, for there were the indications of the meal upon the ground; but it looked as though he expected some other person to join him. The wind began to moan in the tree-tops; far away the mournful scream of the catamount broke the silence again. The boy cast his gaze upward into the branches, feeling as though one of the terrible creatures, with which he had engaged in so desperate a struggle that very morning, was even then watching him from the foliage.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A HAND WAS PRESSED OVER HIS LIPS]

And he was indeed being watched, and by eyes well nigh as keen as those of the wild-cat. While he stood behind the tree, all of half a gun-shot from the camp, a figure stepped silently out of the shadows and stood at his elbow before the startled lad realized that he was not alone. A vice-like hand seized his arm so that he could not turn his rifle upon this unexpected enemy. Before he could cry out a second hand was pressed firmly over his parted lips. "No speak!" breathed a voice in Enoch Harding's ear. "If speak, white boy die!"

It was Crow Wing, the young Iroquois, and Enoch obeyed. He found himself forced rapidly away from the campfire and when they were out of ear-shot of the unconscious stranger, and not until then, did the grasp of the Indian relax. "What do you want with me?" Enoch demanded, in a whisper.

The other did not reply. He only pushed the white boy on until they came to the ford of the creek where Enoch and 'Siah Bolderwood had crossed early in the day. There Crow Wing released him altogether and pointed sternly across the river. "Your house--that way!" he said. "Go!"

"Who is that man back yonder?" cried Enoch, angrily. "You can't make me do what you say----"

Crow Wing tapped the handle of the long knife at his belt suggestively.

"White boy go--go now!" he commanded again, and in spite of his being armed with a rifle while the Indian had no such weapon, Enoch felt convinced that it would be wiser for him to obey without parley.

Although Crow Wing could not have been three years his senior, he was certainly the master on this occasion. With lagging step he descended the bank and began to ford the stream. He glanced back and saw the Indian, standing like a statue of bronze, on the bank above him. When he reached the middle of the stream, however, he felt the full ignominy of his retreat before a foe who was not armed equally with himself. What would Bolderwood say if he told him? What would his father have done?

He swung about quickly and raised the rifle to his shoulder. But the Indian lad had gone. Not an object moved upon the further sh.o.r.e of the creek and, after a minute or two of hesitation, the white boy stumbled on through the stream and reached the other bank. He was angry with himself for being afraid of Crow Wing, and he was also angry that he had not seen the face of the stranger at the campfire. It must have been somebody whom Crow Wing knew and did not wish the white boy to see.

Enoch Harding continued his homeward way, his mind greatly disturbed by the adventure and with a feeling of deep resentment against the Indian youth.

CHAPTER V

THE PIONEER HOME

Enoch arrived feeling not of half so much importance as he had on starting from the Breckenridge farm. His adventure with Crow Wing had mightily taken down his self-conceit. Like most of the settlers he had very little confidence in the Indian character; so, although Crow Wing had rendered the defenders of the Grants a signal service that very day, Enoch was not at all sure that the red youth was not helping the Yorkers, too.

But when he came out of the wood at the edge of the great corn-field which his father had cleared first of all, and saw the light of the candles s.h.i.+ning through the doorway of the log house, he forgot his recent rage against Crow Wing and hurried on to greet those whom he loved. The children came running out to meet him and the light of the candles was shrouded as his mother's tall form appeared in the doorway.

Bryce, who was eleven years old, was almost as tall as Enoch, although he lacked his elder brother's breadth of shoulders and gravity of manner. Enoch was deliberate in everything he did; Bryce was of a more nervous temperament and was apt to act upon impulse. He was a fair-haired boy and was forever smiling. Now he reached Nuck first and fairly hugged him around the neck, exclaiming:

"We thought you were shot! However came you to be so long comin' back, Nuck? Mother's quite worritted 'bout you, she says."

Katie, the fly-away sister of ten, hurled herself next upon her elder brother and seized the heavy rifle from his hands. "Look out for it, Kate!" commanded Nuck. "It's been freshly primed." But Katie was not afraid of firearms. She shouldered the gun and marched bravely toward the house. Mary, demure and curly headed, and little Harry, remained nearer the door, and lifted their faces to be kissed in turn by Enoch when he arrived. Then the boy turned to his mother.

"Come in, my son," she said. "I have saved your supper for you. I could not send the children to bed before you came. They were a-well nigh wild to see you and hear about the doings at farmer Breckenridge's. You are late."

This was all she said regarding his tardiness at the moment. She was a very pleasant featured woman of thirty-five, with kind eyes and a cheery, if grave, smile; but Enoch knew she could be stern enough if occasion required. Indeed, she was a far stricter disciplinarian than his father had been. They crowded into the house and Mrs. Harding went to the fire and hung the pot over the glowing coals to heat again the stewed venison which she had saved for Enoch's supper.

"Tell us about it, Enoch, my son," she said. "Did the Yorkers come as friend Bolderwood said they would--in such numbers?"

"In greater numbers," declared the boy, and he went on to recount the incidents of the morning when Sheriff Ten Eyck had demanded the surrender of the Breckenridge house and farm. The incident had appealed strongly to the boy and he drew a faithful picture of the scene when the army of Yorkers marched up to the farmhouse door and demanded admission.

"And Mr. Allen was there and spoke to me--he did!" declared Enoch. "He's a master big man--and so handsome. He asked me if I remembered his coming here once to see father, and he told me to be sure and go to Bennington when the train-band is mustered in. I can, can't I, mother?"

"And me, too!" cried Bryce. "I can carry Nuck's musket now't he shoots with father's gun. I can shoot, too--from a rest."

"Huh!" exclaimed his elder brother, "you can't carry the old musket even, and march."

"Yes I can!"

"No you can't!"

But the mother's voice recalled the boys to their better behavior. "I will talk with 'Siah Bolderwood about your joining the train-band, Enoch. And if you go to Bennington with Enoch, Bryce, who will defend our home? You must stay here and guard mother and the other children, my boy."

Bryce felt better at that suggestion and the argument between Enoch and himself was dropped. The widow soon sent all but Enoch to bed in the loft over the kitchen and living room of the cabin. There was a bedroom occupied by herself part.i.tioned off from the living room, while Enoch slept on a "shakedown" near the door. This he had insisted upon doing ever since his father's death.

"You were very late in returning, my son," said the widow when the others had climbed the ladder to the loft.

"Yes, marm."

"You did not come right home?"

"No, marm. I stayed to eat with Lot Breckenridge. And then I wanted to hear the men talk."

"You should have started earlier for home, Enoch," she said, sternly.

"Well, I'd got here pretty near sunset if it hadn't been for somethin'

that happened just the other side of the crick," Enoch declared, forgetting the fact that he had stopped to watch the beavers before ever he saw the campfire in the wood.

"What was it?" she asked.