A Little Maid of Ticonderoga Part 19

Faith did not hear or see the stranger as he came toward the sh.o.r.e--not until he grasped the canoe to push it into the water.

"King of Britain!" he whispered under his breath, when Faith spoke his name. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to show you the way into the fort. Yes! 'Twill take not more than an hour or two. Then you can leave me here. 'Twill do me no harm, and you will tell Colonel Allen about the fort," said Faith, in a whisper.

The man slid the canoe into the water. "You are well-named, Faith," he responded. "Well, 'tis a chance, and no man will harm a little maid,"

and with a stroke of his paddle he sent the canoe clear of the willows and headed toward the fort.

"Keep close to the sh.o.r.e," whispered Faith, peering anxiously ahead.

Several hours later Faith stepped from the canoe, and said a whispered good-bye to the stranger, and watched the canoe dart off straight toward Sh.o.r.eham. He had scaled the cliff, while Faith kept the canoe close under the alder bushes, entered the door of the fort, and skilfully made his way about the fortifications, determining the right place for an attack and a.s.suring himself that the fortress contained valuable stores.

As Faith stepped from the canoe the man tried to thank her.

"Some day your Uncle Scott will hear of this, and be proud indeed of so brave a child," he said, "and I shall tell Colonel Allen your name, and of your courage. Be sure of that. You have helped the American cause more than a regiment of soldiers."

Faith said over his words as she made her way across the fields. She recalled her first visit to the fort. "I'm glad those girls ran off that day," she thought, as she gently tried the back door. It was securely fastened. A low warning growl from "Scotchie" made her fear to lift a window. He would arouse the household. She stood on the steps, shivering a little in the sharp March wind. "I must get in without making a noise," she thought. But she could think of no way to accomplish it.

In spite of her silence "Scotchie" realized that some one was outside.

He barked, growled, and once or twice threw himself against the door.

Then suddenly his growls stopped, and, before Faith had time to move, the kitchen door opened slightly and she heard her uncle say, "Who's there?" and knew that, musket in hand, he was awaiting her answer.

CHAPTER XVIII

HOME AGAIN

"Scotchie's" warning growl turned to a joyful greeting as Faith spoke his name.

"Great Caesar! Faith!" exclaimed her uncle, drawing her into the kitchen. "What on earth are you doing out-of-doors at this time of night?"

"You locked the door," whimpered Faith.

"But why did you not call out? We thought you went straight to bed,"

said her uncle.

"I went down to the sh.o.r.e----" began Faith, and then stopped suddenly.

"Well, go straight to bed, and tell your aunt about it in the morning.

She is fast asleep now."

Faith was glad to obey. She was too tired and sleepy to be greatly troubled by what would happen in the morning. She had resolved that if Aunt Prissy questioned her she would tell the truth. But she hoped earnestly that in some way the secret could be kept even from her aunt and uncle, until Mr. Phelps should tell them.

When she came down to breakfast it appeared that her uncle had only told Aunt Prissy that Faith had run out after supper, and, instead of calling and knocking until some one opened the door, had waited until "Scotchie's" bark had brought him to the door.

Aunt Prissy was more surprised and alarmed at this news than Faith had expected. She cautioned Faith never to go out without telling some one of the family.

"Why, some wolf or wildcat might have been about; or a party of Indians might have happened along and taken you off," she said. "And we should never have known what had become of you."

Faith promised never again to leave the house without her aunt's permission, and was glad indeed that she had escaped without telling of her journey to the fort.

"Aunt Prissy! Do you know what day this is?" she asked, so soberly that her aunt looked at her a little anxiously. "It is the very last day of March; it has been a warm and pleasant month, and my father has not come for me."

"And are you so anxious to say good-bye to us, Faithie? You know that instead of your making a visit home your father has decided it is best for you to stay; not come back unless for a visit, until another autumn," responded Aunt Prissy.

"Yes, I know. But why does he not come?" persisted Faith.

"Perhaps to-day will bring him," Aunt Prissy answered hopefully.

Faith came and stood close beside Aunt Prissy's chair. She wanted to say that she loved her cousins and uncle and Aunt Prissy very dearly; to tell her that she had been happy; and that it had been a beautiful visit; but that now she wanted to see her own dear mother more than anything else. But how could she say all this so that Aunt Prissy would understand?

Aunt Prissy put down her knitting and drew the little girl into her lap.

"There! Now tell me all about it, dear," she said, resting her face against Faith's yellow curls.

And Faith told her all that she had been thinking; all that she had thought would be so difficult. And Aunt Prissy listened, saying, "Of course," and "Yes, indeed," from time to time, and understanding even more than Faith found words to tell.

"Why, Aunt Prissy, it's almost like having two homes," concluded Faith.

Before Aunt Prissy could answer there was the sound of voices in the kitchen, and Donald, closely followed by Mr. Carew, came into the room.

"It's the very last day of March!" Faith reminded him.

"And I came near not getting here to-day," her father replied, as Faith drew him to the big chair near the window, and climbed to a seat on his knees. "I was held up on the trail by a tall fellow, from Connecticut, as it proved. He was bound to make me own up that I was an English spy. I told him my name, and my errand, and when I spoke Faith's name, why, he was at once my best friend, told me of his visit at this house, and could not say enough in praise of my little daughter," responded Mr. Carew.

"The Americans seem to be gaining courage," said Aunt Prissy. "The men of the Wilderness do not mean to let the other Colonies do all the fighting, I'm sure."

"Indeed we'll do our part, Priscilla," her brother a.s.sured her.

Faith told her father of the disappearance of Mr. Trent and Louise; of the quilting party, and of all the happenings since his November visit. But she did not tell him of guiding the Connecticut man to the pathway up the cliff to Fort Ticonderoga.

It was evident that Mr. Phelps had kept the secret for some purpose of his own; so, much as she wanted her father to know, Faith resolved that she would not tell him. This secret did not worry and trouble her as the others had done. "I guess it's because this secret means helping somebody, and the others were just--well, just mean secrets,"

Faith decided, as she thought it over.

The next morning Faith and her father were ready to start at an early hour. Uncle Phil, Aunt Prissy, the boys and "Scotchie" walked with them to the sh.o.r.e.

"You will come back when summer comes, won't you, Cousin Faith?" said Donald. "You'll come for a visit even if you don't stay and go to school."

"I will if I can," Faith promised, "and when Louise comes back give her the blue beads, Aunt Prissy."

"Yes, indeed, dear child," responded her aunt, wondering to herself if Louise and her father would ever again be seen in that vicinity. Then there were messages for Faith's mother, and not until she was in the canoe were the good-byes really said.

The little group stood on the sh.o.r.e watching the canoe for some minutes, and then turned back toward the house. They were all very quiet, but as they reached the road Donald called out: "There's somebody on our door-step! Why, it is Louise! Yes, it is," and with a gay call he was off, running swiftly toward the house while the others hurried after him.

"Where is Faith?" Louise asked eagerly, when Mrs. Scott had welcomed her, and they were in the big kitchen.