A Hero of Ticonderoga Part 2

"Afore long, I hope, for your sake, my boy," she answered, cheerily, through the window. "Let me spell you awhile and you take a good rest."

Laying her wool cards aside, she came out and set her strong hands to the pestle, while Nathan ran out to the new road to see what ox-teamster of unfamiliar voice was bawling his vociferous way along its root-entangled and miry course. Presently the boy came back, breathless with the haste of bearing great news.

"Oh, mother, they're carryin' the stones and fixin's for the new mill, and the man says they'll be ready for grindin' before winter sets in.

Then it'll be good-by to you, old 'Up-an'-down,' and good riddance to bad rubbage," and he brought the pestle down with energy on the half-pounded grist of samp.

"Don' revile the plumpin' mill, Nathan. It's been a good friend in time o' need. Mebby you'll miss the trips to Skeenesborough with your father.

You've always lotted on them."

"Yes, but I'd rather go to the Fort and play with the boys, any day, and I'll have more time when samp poundin' is done and ended."

He had been with his father twice to the Fort to see its wonders, and, brief as the visits were, they sufficed to make him acquainted with the boys of the garrison, and, for the time, a partner in their games.

Before the summer was out, the little Yankee became a great favorite with the few English and Irish boys whose fathers were soldiers of the little garrison. He taught them how to shoot with his hornbeam bow and spiked arrows, and many another bit of woodcraft learned of his fast friend Job, while they taught him unheard-of games, and told him tales of the marvellous world beyond the sea, a world that was as a dream to him.

His Yankee inquisitiveness made him acquainted with every nook and corner of the fortification, and he was even one day taken into the commandant's quarters, that the beautiful wife of that fine gentleman might see from what manner of embryo grew these Yankees, who were becoming so troublesome to His Majesty, King George. She was so pleased with his frank, simple manner and shrewd answers that she dismissed him with a bright, new English s.h.i.+lling, the largest sum that he had yet possessed.

"Really, William," she afterwards remarked to her husband, "if this be a specimen of your terrible Yankees, they be very like our own people, in speech and actions, only sharper witted, and they surely show close kins.h.i.+p with us in spite of such long separation."

"You little know them," said Captain Delaplace, laughing. "They are a turbulent, upstart breed. I fear only a sound drubbing, and, perhaps, the hanging of a score of their leaders, will teach them obedience to His Majesty."

"I would be sorry to have this little man drubbed or hanged," said she, with a sigh; "surely he is not of the stuff rebels are made of."

"The very stuff, my dear. Bold and self-reliant, and impatient of control, as you may see. If ever there comes an outbreak of these discontented people, I warrant you'll find this boy deserving the drubbing and getting it, too, for His Majesty's troops would make short work of such rabble."

CHAPTER IV-THE NEW HAMPs.h.i.+RE GRANTS

A year later, the dispute of the Governors of New York and New Hamps.h.i.+re, concerning the boundaries of the two provinces, was at its height, and the quarrel between claimants of grants of the same lands, under charters from both governors, became every day more violent. The disputed territory was that between the Connecticut River and Lake Champlain, and was for a long time known as the New Hamps.h.i.+re Grants.

If a New York grantee found the claim which he had selected, or which had been allotted to him, occupied by a New Hamps.h.i.+re grantee, when the strength of his party was sufficient he would take forcible possession of the land, without regard to the improvements made upon it, and without making any compensation therefor. He was seldom left long in enjoyment of possession thus gained, for the friends of the New Hamps.h.i.+re grantee quickly rallied to his aid and summarily ousted the aggressor, who, if he proved too stubborn, was likely to be roughly handled, and have set upon his back the imprint of the beech seal, the name given to the blue-beech rod wherewith such offenders were chastised. The New Hamps.h.i.+re grantees were as unscrupulous in their ejectment of New York claimants who had first established themselves on the New Hamps.h.i.+re Grants. Surveyors, acting under the authority of New York, were especially obnoxious to settlers of the other party, and rough encounters of the opposing claimants were not infrequent. Seth Beeman and his neighbors had all taken up land under a New Hamps.h.i.+re charter, without a thought of its validity being questioned.

One bright June morning, Nathan was watching the corn that, pus.h.i.+ng its tender blades above the black mould in a corner of the clearing, offered sweet and tempting morsels to the thieving crows. It was a lazy, sleep-enticing occupation, when all the crows but one, who sat biding his opportunity on a dry tree top, had departed, cawing encouragement to one another, in quest of a less vigilantly guarded field. There was no further need for beating with his improvised drumsticks on the hollow topmost log of the fence, to the tune of "Uncle Dan, Uncle Dan, Uncle Dan, Dan, Dan," which would not scare the wise old veteran from his steadfast waiting.

The indolent fluting of the hermit thrushes rang languidly through the leafy chambers of the forest, and the wood pewees sang their pensive song on the bordering boughs, too content with song and mere existence to chase the moth that wavered nearest their perch. The languor of their notes pervaded all the senses of the boy, and, with his body in the shade of the log fence and his bare feet in the suns.h.i.+ne, he fell into a doze.

Suddenly he was awakened by an alarmed outcry of the crow, now sweeping in narrow circles above some new intruder upon his domain. Then he became aware of strange voices, the tramp of feet, the swish of branches pushed aside regaining their places, a metallic clink, and occasional lightly delivered axe strokes. Mounting the topmost log of the fence, and shading his eyes with his hands, he peered into the twilight of the woods. To this his eyes had hardly accustomed themselves, when he saw what sent flashes of anger and chills of dread chasing one another through his veins. But a few rods away, and coming towards him, were two men, one bearing the end of a surveyor's chain and a bundle of wire rods, the other carrying an axe and gun. A little behind these were two men similarly equipped, and still further in the rear, half hidden by the screen of undergrowth, more figures were discovered, one of whom was squinting through the sights of a compa.s.s, whose polished bra.s.s glittered in a stray sunbeam. Nathan was sure this must be the party of the New York surveyor of whom there had been a rumor in the settlement, and he felt that trouble was at hand.

"h.e.l.lo, here's a clearin'," the foremost man, as he ran to the fence, called back to the one at the other end of the chain. "Jenkins, tell Mr.

Felton there's a fenced clearin' here,-and boy," now deigning to notice so insignificant an object.

"Stake," cried Jenkins.

As the first speaker planted one of the wire rods beside the fence, Jenkins pulled up the last one stuck in the woods, at the same time shouting the news back to the surveyor.

"Hold on, boy," the first speaker said, as Nathan jumped from the fence.

"You stay here till Mr. Felton comes up."

"I'm going home," Nathan answered boldly; "if Mr. Felton wants me he can come there."

"You sa.s.sy young rascal," cried one of the men, who carried a gun, bringing his weapon to a ready; "you stand where you be or I'll-" and he tapped the b.u.t.t of his gun impressively.

"You wouldn't dast to," Nathan gasped defiantly, but he went no further, and stood at bay, grinding the soft mold under his naked heel while he cast furtive glances at the intruders, till the remainder of the party came up. The surveyor, impressed with the dignity of his position, maintained a haughty bearing toward all the members of his party save one, a swarthy, thick-set, low-browed man, whom he addressed as Mr.

Graves.

"A fine clearing, indeed," said Mr. Felton when he came to the fence. "I wonder what Yankee scoundrel has dared to so seize, hold and occupy the lands of the Royal Colony of New York."

"Mayhap this younker can tell you, sir," said the man guarding the boy, and lowering his gun as he spoke.

"Boy, what scoundrel has dared to steal this land and establish himself upon it without leave or license of His Excellency, the Governor of New York? Yes, and cut down the pine trees, especially reserved for the masting of His Majesty's navy," and he tapped the top log impressively.

"It's holler, Mr. Felton," Jenkins suggested, satisfying himself of the fact by a resonant thump of his axe.

"Who stole this land? Where's your tongue, boy?" Mr. Felton demanded sharply.

But the boy, out of mind an instant, in that instant was out of sight.

Many a time he had heard Job recount the manner of retreat practised by the Rangers, and now the knowledge served him well. While the surveryor's party was engaged with the pine, he slipped down on the same side of the fence, gained the veiling of a low bush, wormed his way a few feet along the ground, reached the protection of a large tree trunk, when he leaped to his feet, and, fleet and noiseless as a Ranger himself, fled from tree to tree in a circuitous route to his father.

Seth Beeman was hard at work on an extension of his clearing to the westward when Nathan came up, panting and breathless.

"Oh, father, there's a whole lot of Yorkers come and they're runnin' a line right through our clearin'."

Seth listened attentively until the men and their work had been described minutely, and then, without a word, resumed the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of the great hemlock he had just felled. As Nathan waited for some response, he knew by his father's knitted brow that his thoughts were busy. At length, breaking off a twig of hemlock, he came to his son and said, handing the evergreen to him:

"Take this to Newton's and show it to the men folks, and say 'There's trouble to Beeman's,' and then go on and do the same at every house, 'round to Job's, and show it to him and tell him the' same, and do whatever he tells you. Be spry, my boy; I must stay here and ta' care of mother and Sis. Keep in the woods till you get clear of the Yorkers, then take the road and clipper."

CHAPTER V-THE EVERGREEN SPRIG

Understanding the importance of his errand and guessing its purpose, Nathan skulked stealthily along the heavily-wooded border of the highway till past all chance of discovery, when he took the easier course of the road. The ecstatic melody of the thrushes' song and the pensive strain of the pewee had not changed, yet now they were instinct with cheer and acceleration, as was the merry drumbeat of the flicker on a dry branch overhead.

Presently, as he held his steady pace, splas.h.i.+ng through puddles and pattering along firmer stretches, he heard sharp and loud footfalls in rapid approach. Before his first impulse to strike into the ready cover of the woods was carried into effect, a horseman galloped around the turn, and he was face to face with a handsome stranger, whose tall, well-knit figure, heightened by his seat on horseback, towered above the boy like a giant.

"h.e.l.lo," said the man, reining up his horse, "and where are you bound in such a hurry, and who might you be?" His clear gray eyes were fixed on Nathan, who noticed pistols in the holsters, a long gun across the saddle bow, and, in the c.o.c.ked hat, a sprig of evergreen.

"I'm Seth Beeman's boy," Nathan answered, pointing in the direction of his home, "and I'm goin' to neighbor Newton's of an arrant."

"Ah,-Beeman,-a good man, I'm told. And what might take you to neighbor Newton's in such a hurry? Has that hemlock twig in your hand anything to do with your errand?" demanded the stranger, in an imperative but kindly voice. "Speak up. You need not be afraid of me."

Nathan looked up inquiringly at the bold, handsome face smiling down on him.

"Did you ever hear of Ethan Allen?" asked the stranger.

"Oh, yes; only yesterday father told about Ethan Allen's throwing the Yorker's millstones over the Great Falls at New Haven."