A Hero of Ticonderoga Part 11

The light tread of Nathan's moccasined feet did not disturb the melancholy figure, with its drooping head and vacant eyes staring into the fire, nor did it move till he laid his hand on its shoulder. Then the face turned upon him a slow, dazed stare, that as slowly kindled into recognition, then froze into a rigid glare of inexpressible terror.

An inarticulate cry came from the white lips, while the helpless form strove to arouse itself from the living death of palsy.

Nathan cast upon Job a look of appalled, beseeching inquiry. As he met its answer in the awed face of his friend, resentment of past injuries faded out of his heart, as he realized that a mighty hand had forestalled his revenge, and he felt nothing but pity for the abject being that crouched before him.

"It's come out about as I told you," said Job, "but I wan't expectin'

nothin' like this, poor critter. He thinks you're a spirit come to haunt him." Then he called loudly to the figure, "It's the boy. It's Nathan, alive and well. Don't be afeared, he won't hurt ye."

There were footsteps at the threshold, and Ruth and Martha entered, pausing a moment with wondering faces, which presently kindled with joy, and Nathan was clasped in their arms. When the first flush of joyful meeting was spent, Ruth explained in answer to her son's whispered question and his nod toward the dumb figure:

"He sort o' broke down after the guard went away, an' t'other day we found him all of a heap down by a big hemlock log that he never got round to cut up. He hain't seemed to sense much since. He's been dreadful worried about you, Nathan, all along, ever since you went away."

She did not know the terrible cause of the speechless self-condemnation the wretch had suffered, nor did she ever learn it.

"I wouldn't tell her," counselled Job. "She'd feel bad, an' that wouldn't pay any more'n it does to nurse a grudge. Vengeance don't belong to us, poor critters."

Thenceforth, till Silas Toombs sank from his living death to eternal sleep not long after this, his stepson gave him thoughtful and kindly care.

At length the young frontiersman took his place among the defenders of his country. By the side of his old comrade and guardian, he fought in the losing fight of Hubbardton and helped to win the glorious victory of Bennington. Yet he is best remembered by the descendants of the old Green Mountain Boys as the guide who led their fathers in the conquest of Ticonderoga.

Where once stood the pioneer's log house, s.p.a.cious farm buildings now stretch their comfortable quarters. From it, away to the southwest, across meadows, thrifty homesteads, low woodlands, and the narrowed waters of Lake Champlain can be seen rising against the foothills of the Adirondacks the h.o.a.ry ruins of Ticonderoga. Within the house, upon a pair of ma.s.sive moose horns, rests the old flintlock once filled with beans, "good enough for Yorkers," and later loaded with a leaden death message for Tory and Hessian. Cherished with as fond pride by its fair possessor, is a worn pocket-piece-the silver shilling given her ancestor by the beautiful lady of Fort Ticonderoga.