With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga Part 7

So, sir, deliver it without further ado!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE WHIPPED OUT HIS SWORD]

"Ye threaten me, do ye?" cried Munro, lashing himself into a rage.

"Seize this villain, neighbors! I call on ye to a.s.sist in the capture of Seth Warner, the outlaw!" He seized the bridle of Warner's horse, which reared with him and struck out angrily. But the justice hung on, still calling to the bystanders to interfere and help him. Enoch urged his own horse forward; but there was no fear of the neighbors aiding in Seth Warner's capture. They refused to do so, and perhaps as much out of fear of the Connecticut man himself, as out of dislike for the justice.

Warner's horse was a mettlesome beast and Munro's act in seizing the bridle angered it. The Green Mountain boy had all he could do to handle his steed for a moment and, as Munro continued to cling to the bridle, Warner suddenly whipped out his sword and whirling it about his head brought the flat of the weapon down upon the officer's pate! The blow caused Munro to relax his hold and knocked him to the ground, where he lay, roaring with pain and anger. Warner rode over him and approached the open door of the house to which Mrs. Munro, frightened by her husband's overthrow, quickly brought the gun in question and handed it to the victor.

"Many thanks, 'Squire Munro!" cried Warner, waving the gun above his head and holding in his charger. "And when next ye seek to impound me, come in force, sir--come in force!" and letting his mount go, he and Enoch rode away at a swift canter.

Young Harding went home that night full of the afternoon's doings, and loud in his praise of Captain Warner's prowess. He and Bryce made many plans for the reception of the Yorkers if they came to their farm; but after this matters were quiet for some weeks and the settlers were enabled to begin the spring work and get the seed into the ground in peace. On May 19th Governor Tryon sent a letter to the Grants proposing a conference and promising amnesty to all those who had taken an active part in the raids of the Green Mountain Boys excepting Ethan Allen, Seth Warner, Baker and Robert Cochran. The King had commanded that New York do nothing further toward surveying or settling the lands east of Lake Champlain and the Twenty-Mile Line until the difficulty could be properly adjusted, and Tryon promised that the land-grabbers should be kept away from the Grants.

The farmers were delighted with this letter. They had been living in continual fear of dispossession since the first attack on the Breckenridge farm in '69. Now they felt that they would be free to follow the peaceful pursuits of their calling and began to improve their possessions, believing that, after all, the right would prevail. None were more pleased at this turn of affairs than the widow Harding and Enoch. Bryce, it must be confessed, felt a little disappointed that he had seen no active service; but they were all happy in their work and the Harding place bade fair to be one of the most profitable farms in the township that year.

The boys labored well and after the second corn hoeing in August the work was so far along that Enoch was able to accompany 'Siah Bolderwood on a hunting trip. The old ranger, lacking any regular abiding place of his own, often visited the Hardings and helped in the work of the farm.

But he was a wanderer by nature and could not stay in one place long at a time. So, being off to the northward, the widow allowed Enoch to join him for a week or two.

It was not wholly game that Bolderwood was after, however. At least, not game for present killing. He was mapping out his next winter's campaign against the wild creatures of the forest. His strings of traps and dead-falls would be laid along the route which he and his young comrade traversed. Reaching the southern extremity of Lake Champlain Bolderwood found a canoe which, well hidden in a hollow log--all that remained of a monster king of the woodland--had lain untouched since his last visit to the lake. In this light bark they set sail upon that beautiful body of water on the sh.o.r.es of which the French and English had so often met in battle. It has been well said that the Champlain Valley was the school grounds of the early colonists, and that here were largely unfolded the elements of character which became of supreme importance in the Revolutionary struggle.

On the west bank of this lower, and narrower, portion of the lake, stood the frowning walls of Fort Ticonderoga--"Old Ti" as the settlers called it--wrested not long since from the French backed by their Huron and Algonquin allies. That promontory signalized a more ancient landmark of history even than the Pilgrim stone at Plymouth, and one quite as important to our country at large. Eleven years before the Mayflower began her voyage to America, Champlain met the Iroquois in battle on the site of Ticonderoga, and this battle made the Iroquois the friends of the English and the enemies of the French for generations. Ticonderoga was an important link in the chain of French posts extending from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi, which was designed to shut the English colonists into that narrow strip of the continent east of the Alleghanies.

From the beginning Fort Frederick (Crown Point) and Ticonderoga were a menace to the English. From these points the red allies of the French descended upon the border settlements to the south and burned and pillaged at pleasure. Two fearful campaigns were needed to reduce Ticonderoga and place the command of the Champlain in the hands of the British. Since its capture Ticonderoga had fallen somewhat into decay, for with the changing of the Canadian government from French to English, danger of attack, even by Indian bands, from the north was little to be expected by the settlers who had flocked into the rich lands near the lake after the close of the war.

Bolderwood and his young comrade pa.s.sed Old Ti and, continuing up the lake, paddled by Crown Point and reached the mouth of the Otter. Here they encamped for several days, hunting and fishing, and living in a nomadic fashion that charmed Enoch. But when they were about to return another party of hunters came to the spot--men whom Bolderwood knew--bound for the upper end of the lake and into the wilderness lying east of that point. Enoch could not go so far because of the work on the farm; but he urged Bolderwood to accompany this party, as he knew very well he could find his way home in safety by either the land or water route. In fact, he rather coveted the chance to make his way home alone, for he wished to prove to the ranger his ability to do for himself.

It was therefore arranged that the boy should take Bolderwood's canoe and go up Otter Creek to a certain settler's house, there to leave the canoe and make his way overland to Bennington, and the next day they separated. The hunters did not start until afternoon on their northern journey, however, and Enoch left at the same time. Not far up the creek was a settlement of Hampshire farmers who on one occasion had been driven out by Yorkers in the employ of a Scotchman named Reid. But the Yorkers who had taken these farms stayed but a short time and the real owners of the property had come back the year before. Here Enoch expected to remain the first night of his lonely journey.

He did not arrive until late, however, and the houses were in darkness--indeed they seemed deserted. The mill (built by Colonel Reid's followers) stood silent, the stones having been broken by the Green Mountain Boys on the occasion of the driving out of the New York settlers. Enoch, having heard such good accounts of this settlement, was astonished by the appearance of inactivity.

Nevertheless he landed and soon found a stockade surrounding a blockhouse, which was evidently occupied. The people seemed to live under this single roof as though they were in fear of an Indian raid, and the boy approached the place cautiously. He was not molested, however, for no watch was being kept; but when he rapped smartly on the door he knew by the sudden hush of voices within that the occupants of the dwelling were startled. There was the clatter of arms and a sudden command. Fearing that he might be treated as an enemy, Enoch knocked again and was about to raise his voice in the "view halloa" of the settlers, when the door was snapped open for an instant and the sharp blade of a sword thrust out of the darkness, the light of the candles having been quenched at his first summons.

The boy sprang back with an exclamation of fear, and only his agility saved him from serious injury, for the point of the sword cut a slit in his hunting coat. And the attack, so utterly unexpected, quite deprived him of speech or further motion as the heavy door slammed in his face.

Such a welcome was, to say the least, disconcerting.

CHAPTER IX

THE OTTER CREEK RAID

The late visitor at the Otter Creek settlement shrank away from the door and, dumbfounded by the sword-thrust which was evidently meant for his heart instead of his coat, waited to see what the next move of those in the blockhouse would be. He heard low voices and words which sounded like military commands. Suppose the occupants of the wooden fort should fire upon him?

At this idea he dropped upon all fours and it is perhaps well that he did so, for one bullet did come from a loophole, singing viciously above his head. Then an angry voice of command rose on the night air: "Haud yir hand, mon! Let's see an' it be fri'nd or foe." The tone and accent were broadly Scotch, and this, too, added to Enoch's amazement. He had not heard of Scotch people coming to Otter Creek since those placed there by Colonel Reid had been driven forth. At once his suspicions were aroused, but he cried aloud:

"I am a friend and am alone. I only came for a night's lodging."

"'Tis a laddie, mon! There's naught t' fear," declared the voice within, as though answering some objection which Enoch could not hear. The candles were lighted and in another moment the door was opened again, revealing a tall, raw-boned Scot with a shock of red hair and beard. He grasped a bared sword, almost as big as a two-handed claymore, and he looked sternly upon the boy as the latter approached.

"Ha! 'tis wrang for a laddie t' be oot this time o' night," he declared.

"Air ye sure alone?"

"Quite alone," Enoch replied. "I have been hunting west of here and we camped at the mouth of the creek. My comrades have gone northward and I was returning home by way of the creek. I did not know that the settlers here were in fear of Indians----"

"Ha! 'tis little we think o' them rid chiels. There's war nor they in yon forest-land, an' well we ken that."

"Who do you mean?" demanded Enoch, now stepping within the open door.

"Why, the robber Allen, an' his followers. We do oor wark wi' guns in oor han's for fear of them same outlaws. Eh, mon! but they're a bold mob."

Enoch made no reply, but advanced to the gun rack and stood up his rifle and dropped his pack. He knew now what had occurred at the settlement.

The land-grabber Reid had come back to the Grants, ousted the Hampshire settlers, and again established minions of his own in their places. The boy glanced about and saw at least a dozen hardy looking Scots. Every one of them had doubtless served in Colonel Reid's regiment of Highlanders. They were descended from men almost as wild and bloodthirsty as the red Indians themselves, and although ordinarily they might be harmless enough, that thrust of the sword had shown Enoch that they were likely to fight first and inquire the reason for it afterward.

They had come to Otter Creek in force this time, and evidently determined to battle for their master's holdings under the New York law.

But the man who had let him in, and who was a Cameron, was evidently bent upon treating hospitably the guest which he had so nearly run through with his sword. "Jamie Henderson," he said to one of the solemn faced Scots, "speir ane o' the wimmen t' gie us a bite for the lad," and the repast which was prepared and put before him was generous and kindly given. While he was eating and John Cameron sat by to watch him enjoy the food, Enoch gathered courage to ask a few questions.

"We heard down Bennington way that Colonel Reid's people had left this land and the settlers who formerly owned it had come back," he said, suggestively. The Scot's eyes contracted as he looked at the visitor.

"Aye, aye?" he said, questioningly. "How long have you been here?"

queried the boy.

"Sin' June. The men ye call settlers were nae proper holders o' their t.i.tles. Lieutenant-Colonel Reid bought this land and put fairmers here first."

"But he did not get his t.i.tle from New Hampshire," Enoch said.

"Nae--w'y should he? New York owns the land to yon big river--th'

Connecticut call ye it? Our fri'nds settled here in '69. The t.i.tles these auld settlers held wes no guide--na, na! But Colonel Reid is a guide mon--'deed yes."

"How do you make that out?" demanded Enoch. He wanted to tell the Scot what he thought of this business, but he dared not. He knew Ethan Allen and the other leaders of the Green Mountain Boys should know of it, and as he, perhaps, was the first to learn of the return of the Scotch, he must get away early in the morning and reach Bennington in the quickest possible time. While the Grants men were resting in supposed safety and peace because of Governor Tryon's letter promising inactivity on the part of the land speculators, the latter were hurrying their minions over the line, evicting the rightful owners of the Grants, and stealing their farms. The boy's heart swelled with anger; but he was wise enough to hold his tongue and say nothing to rouse the suspicions of the Scots.

In reply to his question regarding Colonel Reid's "guideness" Cameron told how he, with other Scots, had landed in New York early in June and had been engaged by the Colonel at once to go and occupy his land in the Disputed Territory. Reid came with them to the settlement, being at considerable expense to transport them, their wives, children and baggage. The day after their arrival while viewing the land covered by Reid's t.i.tle, they observed a crop of Indian corn, wheat, and garden stuff, and a stack of hay belonging to two New England men who, according to Cameron, had squatted on the land without right or t.i.tle.

Reid paid these two men $15 for their standing crops and the hay and made over the same to his new tenants. This was a novel way of telling how the owners of the t.i.tles to the farms received from the New Hampshire governor years before, were evicted. But Enoch held his peace.

He had considerable doubt in his own mind regarding Colonel Reid's "guideness," nevertheless, and rose early in the morning and left the settlement in Bolderwood's canoe. Instead of keeping on up the Otter he turned back to the lake. The route by which he and the ranger had come from Bennington would be far shorter than the one he had started upon; so he went back that way. News of the return of Reid's people must be conveyed to Ethan Allen and the other leaders of the Green Mountain Boys as quickly as possible.

He scarcely stopped for food, so anxious was he to get home. He met n.o.body on his trip until he reached Manchester and there his story was hardly believed, for the letter of the New York governor in May, inviting the Grants representatives to a council, had made a strong and favorable impression upon public sentiment. This council had advised that all legal processes against the Grants settlers cease and even now the echoes had not died away of the jubilation of the deluded people over what was considered the end of the bitter controversy.

But when he arrived at home and told his mother of his discovery she, like the truly patriotic woman she was, became vastly disturbed. "You may not rest idly here, Enoch, while such wrong is being done. Colonel Allen should know of it at once. He rode past here but yesterday on his way to Bennington, and gave us a cry. He asked for you, too," she said, with pride, "and told me how well you carried yourself at training.

There is a council being held in town to-day, I believe, for I suspect that Colonel Allen and Captain Warner have not been deceived by the false promises of Governor Tryon. And this business at the Otter Creek will wake up many of those who would cry 'Peace!' when there is no peace. Bryce will saddle the horse for you, Enoch," she added, "and while you eat I will prepare your best breeches and coat. You cannot appear at the inn before the gentlemen in your old clothing."

The careful woman bustled away and laid out her son's Sabbath suit and his boughten shoes and, tired as Enoch was, he rode away toward Bennington an hour after reaching the ox-bow farm.

As his mother had declared, Colonel Allen and several other leaders were in conference in Stephen Fay's private parlor, and when he had whispered his story to the innkeeper, the latter brought him at once before the gentlemen, rightly considering the matter of such importance as to brook no delay in the telling. Never before had Enoch seen Ethan Allen in any capacity but that of a leader in action. In the boy's mind he had ever been connected with scenes of riot, or in the capacity of a commander on training day. But it was a very serious looking group which surrounded the table now, and the man at the head of the board lacked nothing in dignity and stern bearing in comparison with the other members of the committee.

It was Allen, however, who turned from the subject under discussion and beckoned Master Fay and Enoch nearer. "What have we here?" he asked.

"Something of moment, I warrant, from the look on Stephen's face. And there is young Nuck Harding. Is aught amiss in your district, lad?"

"Nay, Colonel," Enoch replied; "but I have been in the north and bring back news that my mother was sure you would wish to hear at once. So I rode over without delay to tell you, sir."