Turning to his men, Allen ordered them to convey the prisoners to the camp by the lake, and added:

"Shoot anyone who attempts to escape."

The order was unnecessary, for the Yorkers were too much frightened to think of escaping.

When the camp was reached Ethan Allen gave orders for the Garvans, father and son, to be arrested and brought to the camp.

Peleg Sunderland told how the rescue had been accomplished, but when he gave Zeb's version of the affair Allen shook his head and told his friends of the arch treachery of the elder Garvan, whatever his son might say to the contrary.

Before morning Zeke Garvan and his hopeful son, Zeb, were prisoners at the camp of the Mountain Boys.

Zeke expected to be shot, and whimpered like a child.

His son, Zeb, was brave, and showed that death had no terrors for him.

There was a sort of bulldog courage about him which won the admiration of even his enemies. He faced the Mountain Boys with a defiance which seemed to mean:

"What are you going to do about it?"

When Allen asked him why he had been so treacherous, he laughed as though the question was a good joke.

"I worsted the enemy, didn't I?"

"What do you mean?"

Zeb screwed up his mouth as though about to whistle, then suddenly changed and burst into another laugh.

"Come, my boy, we do not make war on boys, so tell me your motive."

"Shall I?"

"It will be for your advantage, and your father——"

"Don't mention him. Let every tub stand on its own bottom, my father always taught me. Talk about me, if you like, but leave dad alone."

"Then, for your own sake, tell me why you did it. Did others prompt you?"

"I don't know what you mean by prompt, but if you mean did anyone tell me to do it, I say no. I thought of it all by myself, and I made a bargain with father, which he didn't keep; but he was a long time before he saw it as I did."

"Tell all your story, and leave the rest to me."

"Well, you see, father wanted money——"

"Ah! so money stands before country?"

"Let me tell my story."

"Go on, I will not interrupt you again."

"You had better not if you want to hear what I have to say. I said father wanted money, and as the Yorkers wanted you, and offered a big sum of good money for your capture, why, I suggested to father that he get the reward. Now, don't wince; wait until you have heard all. So I got father to agree, and then you were invited to supper. I had gone for the soldiers, and there you were trapped as nicely as any bear in the mountains. Well, when you were secured I put up dad to ask when he would get the reward, and he was told he would have to go to Albany for it, and I found that he could get the reward even if you were rescued, so I wanted to make myself solid with the boys, and I came and told them which way you would be taken, and how to rescue you. So if you will let us go we shall get the reward, but the Yorkers won't get you."

Zeb spoke with such a feeling of exultation that Allen had to laugh.

"So you tried to please both parties?"

"Well, yes; but if ye don't get the money we shan't be pleased with the result."

"Have you told me the truth?"

"Of course I have, and I am itching to get the reward so that I may laugh at the enemy."

"And try to play the same prank again."

"No, I want to join you; I am tired of home. My, won't the Yorkers be mad at having to pay the money and not get you anyway?"

"They will not pay the reward."

"Then I'll fight until they do."

Allen called a council of the boys and asked what should be done with the prisoners.

"Hang them all, every one of them," was the advice of Peleg Sunderland.

"I say, keep them as hostages, and if any of our men are caught, deal with the Yorkers as they deal with our men," said Baker.

"And I think," remarked Allen, slowly and with great deliberation, "that we ought to liberate the soldiers, who only did as they were ordered, and punish Farmer Garvan."

"Let us leave the whole matter to the colonel."

"Good! he is always right."

This course was adopted, and Allen accepted the trust.

He ordered the soldiers to be brought before him, and then addressed them, telling them how some had counseled hanging, but as they were fellow-Americans it was resolved to liberate them, because they had only obeyed orders.

He expressed a wish that they would go back to their own colony and tell the Yorkers that the men of the mountains would never give up their lands while one of them remained alive.

The officer in charge spoke for his men.

He thanked Allen for his merciful conduct, and declared that the duty had been distasteful, but that as soldiers they must act without question.

After the Yorkers left the camp, Allen ordered the farmer to be brought before him.

"Farmer Garvan," he said, "you have been guilty of the greatest crime it is possible for a man to commit. You offered hospitality, and then, like Judas, you betrayed those who trusted you. Your offense is worse, seeing that you are a grantee of New Hampshire. By all the laws of war you ought to be hanged——"

"Spare me!" whined the farmer.

"You did not spare me, but for the sake of a little money would have condemned me to death. You are a coward, or you would meet your fate boldly. A man who risks so much should not cry out for mercy when his rascality fails. I will not hang you——"

"Thank you. Heaven——"

"Stay! Do not call Heaven into a defense of treachery. I order that you be stripped and receive one hundred lashes on the bare back, such punishment to be meted out to you in accordance with the laws laid down by the convention at Bennington."

Garvan fell on his knees and with uplifted hands prayed for mercy.

"It will kill me, I know it will. Oh, spare me, and I will serve you, I——"

"Each of my men will give you a stroke with a good, strong oaken or beechen stick, and may the punishment teach you that treachery never pays."

In vain the man cried for mercy.

Allen could never forgive treachery.

The Green Mountain Boys hurried to cut sticks from the trees which grew by the lake, and each submitted his stick to Allen, who rejected quite a number because they were too large.

Zeke was stripped and tied to a tree, his hands above his head. The first man was called to administer his stroke, when Zeb, who had been standing, listening to the decision, rushed forward, and placing himself between his father and the mountaineer, said:

"Strike, but not father. Let me bear the punishment, for it was all my fault, it was all my doing."

"Stand aside."

"I will not."

"Drag him away," commanded Baker.

Two of the mountaineers stepped up to the boy, who had clasped his arms around his father's waist.

He held on so tightly that to drag him away they must hurt him.

Baker ordered the men to whip him until he loosed his grasp, but Allen stopped the execution of this order.

"Stop! Boy, you have won. I thought you were bad at heart, but I see you love your father, and for your sake I remit the punishment."

Zeb fell on his knees and clasped Allen's legs.

"Bless you! If anyone ever says a word against you in my hearing he shall die, that he shall."

"Release the prisoner."

When Zeke was free Allen ordered him to give up the paper signed by the soldiers.

"And lose my reward?"

"Yes; I will not allow you to be rewarded for treachery."

Garvan had no option in the matter, and so he gave up the document, which certified that he was entitled to the reward for the capture of Ethan Allen and Remember Baker.

Zeb pleaded hard to be allowed to join the Mountain Boys, and Allen consented provisionally that he should stay in the camp and hold no conversation with his old companions.

"I am afraid you acted foolishly," said Baker. "Others will follow the farmer's example."

"I think not. Mercy never yet failed; sternness often leads to disaster. I am satisfied with what has been done."

In this, as in many other instances, Ethan Allen, rebel though he was called, outlaw as he was decreed to be, showed the largeness of his heart.

"We shall have to break camp. It is possible others besides those who have been liberated will know of our nearness and profit by it."

"Where shall we go, colonel?"

"To Middlebury. We will not secrete ourselves, but openly show that we are in the field to oppose New York in its pretensions."



CHAPTER XII.

THE OPENING OF THE WAR.

The people of Middlebury welcomed Allen and his Green Mountain Boys with enthusiasm.

They knew that their only chance of maintaining their lands—lands which they had reclaimed and made valuable—was by assisting Allen in his crusade against the pretensions of New York.

Success perched upon his banner, and not only was he able to hold the lands for the people, but he drove the New York settlers out of the district.

He had drafted a petition to the English king, asking that Vermont should be a separate colony, having its own governor and its legislature.

But before that petition reached England the revolution had broken out.

The Boston Port bill had been passed, which enacted that no kind of merchandise should any longer be shipped or landed at the wharves of Boston.

The custom house was removed to Salem, but the people of that town refused the honor conferred on them by the tyrant who ruled the destinies of England and the colonies.

The inhabitants of Marblehead offered the free use of their warehouses to the merchants of Boston. The Colonial Assembly stood by the people.

Then England passed an act of parliament annuling the charter of Massachusetts. The people were declared rebels, and the governor was ordered to send to England for trial all persons who should resist the royal officers.

A colonial congress was called to assemble at Philadelphia. Eleven colonies were represented, and it was unanimously agreed to sustain Massachusetts in her conflict with parliament.

An address was sent to King George, another to the English nation, and a third to the people of Canada.

As soon as England received the addresses an order was made by which the governor was directed to reduce the colonists by force.

So we see that England took the initiative in the war which was to deprive her of her richest colonies.

A fleet and an army of ten thousand men were sent to America to aid in the work of subjugation.

Gov. Gage seized Boston Neck and fortified it. The military stores in the arsenals of Cambridge and Charlestown were conveyed to Boston, and the general assembly was ordered to disband.

Instead of accepting their dismissal, the members resolved themselves into a provincial congress, and voted to equip an army of twelve thousand men to defend the colony.

As soon as the people of Boston learned the intentions of the governor, they concealed their ammunition in carts of rubbish and conveyed it to Concord, sixteen miles away.

The wrath of the governor was especially directed against Samuel Adams and John Hancock, who were looked upon as the leaders of the rebellion.

An expedition was sent against Concord, and eight hundred men marched toward the town.

But the people of Boston were not to be taken by surprise.

Bells were rung and cannon fired, and the citizens were informed of the expedition.

Joseph Warren—all honor to him—had dispatched Paul Revere and William Dawes to ride with all speed to Concord and Lexington and rouse the whole country to resistance.

A company of one hundred and thirty Minute Men assembled on Lexington Common and awaited the approach of the enemy, but after staying some hours they dispersed.

At five o'clock in the morning the English appeared, led by the notorious Pitcairn.

The Minute Men had gone back to their homes, tired of waiting; but seventy, led by Capt. Parker, were roused and reached the common before the enemy.

Pitcairn rode up to them and exclaimed:

"Disperse, you villains! Throw down your arms, ye rebels, and disperse!"

The Minute Men stood defiant and still.

Pitcairn discharged his pistol at them and shouted to his men:

"Fire!"

The first volley whistled through the air, and sixteen of the Minute Men fell, dead or wounded.

The rest fired a few random shots and dispersed.

The English pressed on to Concord.

The people had quietly removed most of the ammunition, and the English found but little worth taking. They started to sack the town.

While they were doing this the Minute Men had rallied and began to assemble from all quarters.

A company of English guarded the bridge over Concord River. They were attacked by the Minute Men and two English soldiers were killed. The Minute Men captured the bridge, and the enemy began a retreat into the town, and then on the road to Lexington.

On every side the patriots assembled. For six miles the battle waged.

Every tree, every house and barn sheltered the patriots, who poured a murderous fire into the ranks of the retreating English.

Had it not been for the arrival of reinforcements under Lord Percy, the English army would have been completely routed.

The fight continued right up to Charlestown, and only ceased because the people feared the fleet would burn the city.

The first battle had been fought.

The English had suffered a loss of two hundred and seventy-three, while the patriots lost only eighty-three in dead and wounded.

The battle of Lexington fired the country.

Within a few days an army of twenty thousand men had gathered round Boston.

New Hampshire sent its militia, with John Stark at its head; Rhode Island sent her quota under the leadership of Nathaniel Greene.

New Haven was not behind, for a regiment was dispatched from that city with Benedict Arnold as leader.

All this news was conveyed to Ethan Allen by Eben Pike, who had been dispatched on the dangerous mission to Boston to find out what the Provincials meant to do. No more trusty messenger could have been found than the young scout of the Green Mountains.

"What shall we do?" asked Baker.

"Fight!" was Allen's curt reply.

"Shall we join the patriots at Boston?"

"No; Connecticut has offered a thousand dollars toward the expenses of capturing Ticonderoga, and that reward we will win."

To capture the fort with its treasures would be to strike a blow at England's supremacy which would tell more than any concerted action at Boston.

"Call the roll," ordered Allen.

Two hundred and seventy men answered the call, and Allen shouted for joy.

"Men of the Great Mountains, we are strong, because a mountain boy is worth ten men of the valleys. We shall capture Ticonderoga. I cannot offer you life; many may be killed, more wounded; but remember we have fought for our homes, we must now fight for our country. We have driven the Yorkers out of the Green Mountains, we must now drive the English out of America, or compel them to recognize our right to govern ourselves. Will you follow me?"

A tremendous shout in the affirmative went up from those brave patriots, and Ethan Allen was so overcome with emotion that for a few moments he could not speak.

Then, raising his sword above his head, he shouted:

"On to Ticonderoga! Victory and freedom, or death, for every man who hears my voice!"

And the Green Mountain Boys took up the cry:

"On to Ticonderoga! Victory or death!"



CHAPTER XIII.

BENEDICT ARNOLD.

"At last I see my way to a position. They said I was a ne'er-do-well. We shall see!"

The speaker, a fine, handsome-looking man, paced the floor of a small room in Cambridge.

It was one week after the battle of Lexington.

He was restless; every muscle in his body seemed to quiver with excitement.

Anyone looking at him would prefer him as a friend rather than an enemy, for there was that in his face which betokened strong passion.

He was ambitious. For the gratification of that ambition he would sacrifice anything, even honor.

He had been brought up as a merchant, and had splendid opportunities in his native Colony of Connecticut for success, but he was restless, and wanted a fame greater than he could obtain as a merchant.

He had suggested the formation of a company of militia, to be called the "Governor's Guards," and had also hinted that they should rival the royal guards of England in appearance and attire.

The governor was pleased with the suggestion, for he loved display, and commissioned Benedict Arnold to put into effect his suggestion, and to take the rank of captain.

Arnold cared less for the career of a merchant than ever.

He designed a uniform which should outshine even the famous Life Guards of London in splendor.

Buckling on a sword, he would pose before a mirror and salute his own reflected image in the glass.

Gathering around him a number of well-connected young men, men of good figure and tall in stature, he proceeded to impress upon them his own importance, and made them believe that all the honor of their position depended upon his favor.

Arnold was a favorite, and so the young men of New Haven accepted his authority and became the willing followers of Capt. Arnold.

The governor threw a wet blanket on his scheme when he told him that if the guards wanted uniforms they must purchase them, for the funds of the colony could not be used for such a purpose.

Arnold had to moderate his gorgeousness and accept a much plainer uniform for his guards.

The company was formed, and drill commenced. The young captain showed that he knew more about the manual of arms than he did of mercantile practices.

The militia grumbled at the harshness of the discipline, but a few words from their captain won them over.

When the war commenced Arnold was a strong royalist, or tory.

He wanted the guards to be recognized by England as a part of the royal forces. In fancy he saw himself driving the "rebels" into the sound and being sent for to London to receive the thanks of the king in person; he imagined himself promoted to the rank of general, and perhaps made life governor of one of the colonies.

But the airy castles he built fell to the ground when he was bluntly told that the king could do without his "guards," and that when there was need of soldiers the king could provide them.

From that moment Arnold resolved on throwing in his lot with the very men he had asked permission to shoot down. He became a "rebel."

When the news of the battle of Lexington reached New Haven he clapped his hands and became more excited than he had ever known himself to be.

He called his guards together, and in an impassioned speech bade them be ready to march against the English, and win freedom for their native land and honor and renown for themselves.

He denounced the king.

He ridiculed the parliament.

The tories were treated to such an outburst of eloquent denunciation that, had any of them heard him, they would have trembled.

"Guards! soldiers of the nation! I salute you. To you is intrusted a banner which must ever be kept in the front of the battle. Some of us may fall, but, if we do, our names shall be writ on our country's history in imperishable letters. To those who survive no honor will be begrudged, no reward will be too ample for a proud country to bestow.

"We shall meet the foe. We shall cross swords with the hirelings of a tyrant. Our arms will be triumphant, for justice is with us, and God will bless our swords. To-morrow we march to Massachusetts, to join our brothers there, and all the world shall ring with the doings of the Governor's Guards of Connecticut."

He fired his men with enthusiasm, and they were ready to follow him to death, if need be.

Arrived at Cambridge, he was received warmly, but so was John Stark and his New Hampshire militia, and equally well did he find the men of Massachusetts greet Nathaniel Greene and his militia from Rhode Island.

Arnold had expected a greater enthusiasm. In his heart he had fancied himself appointed general of the army of the Provincials, and therefore he was hurt when he learned that he was only one among many.

"The king insulted me," he said, as he paced the floor, "the tories did not care for me, and now these Provincials treat me as if I were one of them, instead of being—— Well, what is it, Eli?"

Sergt. Eli Forest, of the Governor's Guards, entered the room.

"Captain, I have just heard that one Ethan Allen has undertaken to capture Ticonderoga, for which our governor has offered a thousand dollars for expenses."

"Well?"

"Would it not be well for us to join with Col. Allen——"

"Eh?"

"Do not think me rash, captain, but you have given me permission to speak as I think."

"So I have, Eli, and for the sake of our old college days and the good times we shared, you can always speak your mind to me."

"Then, captain, I thought that this man, Allen, knew nothing of fighting save a sheriff's posse, and you could become the general and lead the men to Ticonderoga and then to Crown Point, and who knows, you might drive the English back into Canada, and, joining with the French, compel England to sue for peace, and you could name your own terms."

"Talk, talk, talk! How easy it is to talk, Eli, but how different is action. Go; when I have thought over your suggestion I will let you know my decision."

Eli Forest had the most implicit confidence in Benedict Arnold. As boys they had gone to the same school, and when they left school they entered college and graduated at the same time. During all those years Eli had always looked upon Arnold as a superior being. When the men were enrolled as guards Eli felt that the height of his ambition was reached, for, with Arnold as captain, the guards would rival any military body in the country.

Arnold was as fond of his friend as he could be of anyone; he gave him greater freedom of speech, and listened to him when others would have been treated very cavalierly.

When Benedict Arnold was alone he showed by every line on his face how pleased he was with the suggestion made by his old-time friend.

"It is the opportunity of my life. What does Ethan Allen know about war? He is a country farmer, and can fight a sheriff's posse, and perhaps a few soldiers in his mountains; but to take Ticonderoga? Bah! He will fail unless I help him, and then the glory shall be mine."

Arnold walked quickly up and down the floor, his hands clinched, his face lighted up with ambitious fire.

"Yes, the glory shall be mine," he continued, "and once let me have Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and then—— Ah! what then?"

He crossed to the window and looked out.

John Stark was marching past at the head of his sturdy New Hampshire boys, and the people cheered.

"If I hold Lake Champlain and the Green Mountains I can dictate my own terms. I shall hold the key to the situation. Canada can be mine, and Massachusetts will be glad to make terms with me. If I fail to make good terms with the colonies I can go to England and say: 'You will be driven out of America unless I say stay, and I shall not say that unless you give me——' Well, what now?"

The orderly entered and told Arnold that he was wanted at the headquarters of the Provincial army at once.

"Tell the council that I—will not—— I mean I will not delay."

Once more alone, he showed his restlessness.

"They order me—me!—Capt. Benedict Arnold! Well, let me join Allen and his Green Mountain Boys, and I shall do the ordering, or my star has dimmed its luster."

One hour later he called together his guards and told them that they were to be ready to march at a moment's notice.

"A soldier's first lesson is that of obedience," he said to them, "and I am going to try you in many ways. In the expedition we are about to undertake I shall only be of the same rank as yourselves. Obey whoever may be your commander, but be ready to accept me as your leader at any time."

Eli, on behalf of the guards, promised that whatever Arnold might order it would be their pleasure to obey.

"Sergt. Eli Forest, stand forward."

Eli obeyed and saluted.

"Lieut. Percival has obtained leave of absence. He will join the army in Cambridge when that leave expires. The grade of lieutenant is an important one, and I appoint you, Eli Forest, first lieutenant of the Governor's Guards."

Eli thanked his chief for the new honor, and Arnold had bound him still closer to him.



CHAPTER XIV.

ARNOLD'S POWERS OF FASCINATION.

"On the choice of friends Our good or evil name depends."

"Colonel, a number of armed men are marching this way, and I like not their appearance," said the young Eben Pike, hurriedly and with gasping breath, as he entered the presence of Ethan Allen.

"They most likely are friends, Eben."

"They may be, colonel, but I thought you ought to know."

"You acted wisely, as you usually do. Did you meet Mistress Baker?"

"Yes, colonel, and a fair young maiden she is. I wish I had a sister like her."

Allen laughed and looked at the boy, whose face was a brighter color than usual.

"You will learn to like some one else's sister better than your own, if you had one."

Eben blushed still more and was about to leave when the colonel made him send Baker at once.

Remember Baker had a sister, pretty and winsome. She had been visiting for a year in New Haven, and decided to return to her brother's home at the very time he was on the march with Allen.

Baker had an aunt living near Lake Champlain, and he decided to place Martha with her. Good friends escorted Martha to a place a few miles from where the Mountain Boys were to camp prior to their attack on Fort Ticonderoga, and Eben was dispatched to escort the young maiden to her brother. Eben had fulfilled the task and wished the distance had been several times as far; but a few miles from the camp he had seen the regiment of guards on the march, and at once thought it his duty to report.

Remember Baker entered the presence of Ethan Allen and listened to the story told by Eben.

"Martha saw them," said Baker, "and she declared that their leader was a man who was noted for being a great loyalist in New Haven."

"So! Let all the men be ready in case of emergency, and do you see that they are well prepared for attack!"

"I shall see to it."

"Does Mistress Martha feel tired after her long journey?"

"No; she very naively says that she was tired until she was met by Eben, and from that time her weariness ceased."

"Natural, very. Eben felt that way also, and his face was as red as a turkey gobbler's comb when he entered here."

In less than an hour Lieut. Eli Forest approached the camp, bearing a white flag.

He asked to be admitted to the presence of Ethan Allen.

"Col. Allen, this gentleman craves an interview."

"Capt. Baker, I shall be pleased to confer with him."

Eli was rather surprised at the courtesy shown by Ethan and Baker to each other. He had been led to believe the Mountain Boys to be a lot of uneducated, boorish farmers.

He, a college graduate, knew that he was in the presence of his equals.

"I am commissioned by my superior, Col. Arnold, to ask you to favor him with an audience."

"Might I ask who I am speaking with?"

"I have the honor to be lieutenant of the Connecticut Guards. I am Eli Forest."

"Tell Col. Arnold that I shall be pleased to see him, and, believe me, I am proud to have met Lieut. Forest."

When Forest returned to Arnold he found the New Haven colonel very anxious.

"Well, what says the farmer?"

"He may be a farmer, but he is a well-educated gentleman."

"You don't mean——"

"We have been deceived. You will find that he is our—my equal."

"So much the better; I shall win the surer."

In the camp of the mountaineers the center of attraction was Martha Baker. Many of the Bennington boys knew her, though she had greatly improved during her stay at New Haven.

She sought the presence of Col. Allen and besought him to be careful of his treatment of the guardsman of New Haven.

"If it is Benedict Arnold who is coming, he means you no good," she said, very earnestly; "my friend in New Haven knew him well, and she was certain that he was in favor of England."

"Thank you, Martha; I will know how to deal with him. I am glad that you have told me."

Benedict Arnold lost no time in seeking an audience with Ethan Allen.

"I have come from Cambridge," he said, "with but one object in view."

"I shall be very pleased to hear your project, if you care to confide it to me."

"I heard of your fame"—Ethan bowed—"and I felt that if there was to be any great work accomplished, Col. Ethan Allen was the man to make it apparent."

Arnold had spoken with great deference. "I was appointed colonel by the Provincial Council; but when I heard that Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys were about to attack Fort Ticonderoga, I thought that I could serve my country best by offering myself and my guards to him, and I ask no other favor than to be allowed to enlist under your banner as a private soldier."

"My dear colonel, I cannot think of such a thing."

"On no other terms would I consent. My men are all well drilled and are ready to join you under the same conditions."

"Let us meet on equal terms; we will jointly command."

"No, Col. Allen; in military matters there should be no divided authority. I will serve under you, and if you wish my advice I shall be ready to give it, but I will not accept a share in the command."

The interview was a long one.

Ethan Allen was completely fascinated with Arnold. He believed that if there was a genuine patriot in the colony it was he.

Arnold, having recovered from his surprise at finding Allen an educated man, conceived a liking for him and resolved to act squarely in all his dealings with him.

Arnold was better read in history than the mountaineer, and he knew the history of Ticonderoga as well as he knew the later history of New Haven.

"The French knew what they were doing when they fortified Ticonderoga," Arnold remarked, when the strength of the fort was being discussed.

"Tell me all you know about it, will you not?"

"My dear Allen, I am always at your service. You remember—but no, you would be too young; we were but boys then—but in 1755 Gen. William Johnson was ordered by the British to drive the French from the shores of Lake Champlain. Johnson had a fine body of men, three thousand four hundred in number, including a body of friendly Mohawks. Oh, those Mohawks! They are fighters, every one of them. I wish we had a thousand of them with us."

"We do not need them."

"No, but we shall before the English are taught the lesson we intend to teach them—that is, to mind their own business. The French general, Dieskau, who was commandant at Crown Point, was one of the most daring men of whom I have ever heard. He had only fourteen hundred men, French, Indians and Canadians, all told, but with this force he made up his mind he would anticipate the movements of the English and drive them back to Albany. He sailed up the lake to South Bay. From there he marched to the upper springs of Wood Creek, intending to pass the English army and capture Fort Edward before the alarm could be given. But the news was carried to Gen. Johnson. A natural, a boy, half an idiot, ran into the general's presence and cried out: 'The French are marching like mad!' A scout was sent out and the truth learned. Col. Williams, with a force of a thousand men, accompanied by Mohawk Chief Hendrick, with two hundred warriors, set out to relieve the threatened fort."

"Hendrick was a very old man, was he not?"

"Yes, he was gray-headed, and though very old he was as stalwart as any of the younger men of the tribe. Dieskau had been misled as to the route, and found himself four miles to the north of Fort Edward, when he should have been there. His scouts reported that Williams and Hendrick were marching to the fort, and the daring Frenchman quickly ordered his forces into ambush, and the English were entrapped. Both Williams and Hendrick fell dead, and the English were badly routed. Johnson heard the noise of battle and quickly extemporized breastworks by felling trees; the cannon were brought into position and then the English awaited the triumphant French. It must have been a glorious fight.

"The Indians, with Dieskau, when they saw the cannon, quietly walked to a hill at a safe distance, and watched the battle. The Canadians, who had hoped the Indians would have done the most of the fighting, were disheartened and left the French to make the onset alone. Bravely they fought, and for five hours, the battle raged. Johnson was wounded early in the tight, and the men fought without a leader."

"But Johnson got the credit?"

"Yes, and was made a baronet by England; but, between you and I, the man was only slightly wounded, and was glad of an excuse to escape the danger of the battle."

"Johnson was no coward."

"Perhaps not; but have you not heard of that commander who, when wounded, insisted on staying on the field and giving orders until he dropped dead? That was a true hero, if you like. Then note the difference. Dieskau was wounded three times and would not retire. He sat on a tree stump and refused to be carried off the field. A renegade Frenchman who had joined the English went up to him to make him a prisoner. Dieskau was about to hand the man his watch as a token of surrender, but the Frenchman, thinking the general intended to draw a pistol, fired, and the brave commander dropped, mortally wounded. But though the victory was with the English, it was dearly purchased. The French were not disheartened, for they reinforced Crown Point and seized Ticonderoga, which they fortified."

"Is Ticonderoga so very strong?" asked Allen, who had listened so attentively to the historical narrative told by Arnold.

"Yes. Abercrombie for four hours stormed it. Column after column dashed with great bravery against the breastworks, but only to meet with failure. Abercrombie could have returned with a larger army and heavier guns, but he did not. He had fifteen thousand men, while the French had not more than eight thousand on the outside. In 1759 the French, being hard pressed, dismantled the fort and the English walked into it. It cost the English eight million pounds to repair, enlarge and strengthen it."

"And in a few days it will be in our possession."

"I hope so."

"It must be."

"Have you sent out any scouts to find its strength?"

"Yes, one—a boy named Ebenezer Pike."

"A boy?"

"Yes, a boy that I would back against all the men I ever saw."

"He may betray you."

"Col. Arnold, that makes three times you have expressed a fear of some one betraying our cause. Do not do it again, or I may——"

Allen paused. He did not wish to give offense.

"What? Speak out, man!"

"I may doubt you. I always was taught to think that a suspicious person was to be feared."

"Ha, ha, ha! Allen, do you see that sun?"

"Of course."

"It shines for all?"

"Yes."

"It is always constant? It never refuses to shine?"

"No."

"Then do not doubt me until that sun ceases to be constant and true."



CHAPTER XV.

THE HERO OF TICONDEROGA.

Arnold appeared to agree with every suggestion made by Allen, and no man could be more pleasant.

Not one atom of distrust of Arnold was to be found in the whole of the mountaineer's mind.

Certainly he had no reason for it save the strong distrust manifested by Remember Baker because of the stories Martha had brought from New Haven.

On the evening of the ninth of May the combined forces of Allen and Arnold appeared on the eastern shore of Lake Champlain, opposite Ticonderoga.

The march had been so well planned and executed that the English had no knowledge of the movement of the Mountain Boys.

A difficulty, which had not been foreseen, had to be overcome.

There were only three small boats in which the men could be conveyed across the lake.

Usually there was quite a fleet of boats there, but the soldiers had taken most of the boats farther up the lake.

Arnold suggested the construction of rafts, but the felling of trees might make so much noise that the attention of the garrison might be called to it and the whole plan fail.

Men were sent up the shore to search for boats, while others were instructed to look for anything which could be utilized for rafts.

Half the night was wasted in the vain search, and some of the boys were discouraged.

Allen called the leaders together and asked the simple question:

"What shall we do?"

Let it not be thought that he hesitated. No, Ethan Allen never did that; he knew just what would be best, but he also knew that the men were more confident if they were consulted.

Eli Forest was the first to answer.

"It is impossible for us to cross, so I think it would be best to retire into the woods and fell trees, so that we might fashion rafts."

"How long would that delay us?"

"Not more than a week."

"What say you, Baker?"

"I do not like delay, yet—Ticonderoga is strong, and ten men could hold the place against a hundred."

"And you, Col. Arnold?"

"I am a soldier, and am ready to follow my superior. What he orders I shall loyally help to carry out."

"We will all do that," said Baker, half ashamed that he had shown any shadow of doubt about the advisability of attacking the fort.

"I know you are all true soldiers," replied Allen, "and I am ready to lead you against the fort. I think we can breakfast on the rations England has provided."

"Lead on and we will follow."

"Forest, do you pick the men in your company who have the strongest nerves and the pluckiest spirits to cross first; take the largest of the two large boats and get as many of the men over as possible."

"It shall be done."

"And you, Baker, follow the same instruction in reference to the Mountain Boys. The small boat we will reserve for Col. Arnold and myself. When you reach the other side, remember that there must not be a sound. No word must be uttered, no fire made, but let every man lie in the long grass and wait for orders."

A crew was selected for each boat, and the work of transporting the little army across the lake was commenced.

The men pulled steadily and noiselessly across the waters of the beautiful lake which the Indians called "Troquois," [Transcriber's note: Iroquois?] and the early French settlers, who objected to honoring the explorer, Samuel de Champlain, "Mere les Iroquois," and still later, "Iracosia."

It was slow work, and the men asked permission to swim across, but Allen was afraid the swim would be too exhausting.

When day broke the work had to cease, for the men at the fort would have seen the boats and been put on their guard.

Arnold looked at the handful of men and predicted failure.

Allen counted the men and found eighty-three.

That was the strength of his little army.

It seemed absurd to think of attacking one of the strongest fortresses on the continent with such a handful of men.

True, the garrison was small, but it was intrenched behind strong walls, a well-filled moat and a line of breastworks carefully designed, and improved bastions.

Allen called all his men together and addressed them.

"It is for your country that you will risk your lives," he said, "and while you take care not to run into needless danger, remember that only the daring will succeed. If we enter the fort, as we shall undoubtedly do, set up a shout which shall make the garrison think we have eight hundred instead of eighty men. Be brave, and the victory will be ours."

A thrill of excitement made every heart beat fast; cheeks glowed with pleasure, heads were borne erect with pride, and the few men looked invincible.

Allen and Arnold led the way; they never were in the rear.

When close to the fort they made a dash and gained the gateway.

"Stand back!" exclaimed the sentry.

He raised his musket to fire, but Allen knocked it on one side.

"Are you mad? Do you want to die?" he asked.

"Better die than be craven," answered the English soldier, bravely.

Allen had seized him round the waist and thrown him to the floor; he picked himself up and ran into the fort, closely followed by the mountaineers.

Suddenly the Green Mountain Boys set up such a shout as few garrisons had ever heard.

"We are inside," said Baker, exultingly.

"Ay, but not out," answered Forest, rather gloomily.

"Form into line!" shouted Arnold.

The men formed, facing the barracks, and were ready to fire should the garrison show fight.

Allen left the command of the men in the hands of Arnold, while he rushed to the quarters of the commandant.

Capt. Delaplace was asleep.

He had not heard the shout, though it was loud enough to wake the dead almost.

A sentinel stood guard outside the commandant's door.

Allen placed a pistol at his head and ordered him to stand aside.

The man obeyed like one in a dream.

Allen stood by the bedside of the sleeping commandant.

"Get up!" shouted the mountaineer.

The voice was loud enough to rouse the sleeper, who thought that the French had taken a fancy to come down the lake and try to recapture the fortress.

"Get up!"

The commandant sat up in bed.

"What do you want? Who are you?"

"Surrender this fortress instantly."

"By what authority?"

Allen flourished his sword as he replied:

"In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!"

Delaplace did not hesitate.

A sword was in close proximity to his heart, the shouts of the men outside showed that the enemy was in possession of the fort, so what could he do but surrender?

He reached to the side of the bed and took his sword.

"There is my sword, sir. I trust that you will allow me to dress."

"Certainly; report to me in half an hour. Sorry to disturb your sleep, captain, but war, you know, is not always considerate."

The English flag was borne on the breeze, and floated proudly over the fort.

Allen looked up at it and sighed.

It was a gallant flag, and a brave man does not like to see a flag of a great nation humiliated, even though he is fighting against it.

"Haul down the flag!"

"What shall we run up, colonel?"

The Provincials had no flag, and Allen ordered the English flag to be again run up, but with the Union down.

Across the waters of the lake the men were watching, and when they saw the flag run up, with the Union down, they knew that the fort had been taken, and they set up a cheer that could be heard across the water.

A hundred and twenty cannon and a vast amount of military stores fell into the hands of the Americans.

Great Britain had expended forty million dollars on Fort Ticonderoga from first to last, and a few undisciplined Mountain Boys wrested this proud possession from her.

Boats brought over the rest of the combined forces of Arnold and Allen, and the leader of the mountaineers made good his promise that they should breakfast in the fort on rations paid for by their enemy.

When an inventory had been made and sent in duplicate to the assembly of Connecticut and of Massachusetts by trusty messengers, Allen called together his officers and thrilled them by declaring that their work had only just begun.

"To-day we have captured the strongest fortress in America; in two days more we must be in Crown Point."

"And again we pledge ourselves to the hero of Ticonderoga, who will lead us to triumph!" exclaimed Baker.

"Ay, and our cry shall be," echoed Forest, "Liberty Freedom and Independence!"



CHAPTER XVI.

THE TEMPTATION.

Capt. Delaplace was fretful and soured by his defeat.

"If it had been in open fight," he said, "I should not have cared so much; but to be caught in a trap, it is enough to make a man kill himself."

He was speaking to Benedict Arnold, and that patriot was ready to listen almost gloatingly to the story.

Arnold was a peculiar man; he was kind and sympathetic, yet was ready to rejoice over the sufferings of the fallen.

Allen had asked Arnold to spend a portion of the day with the defeated officer, so that he might be more consoled, for company is always soothing.

Delaplace was a diplomat; he had imbibed the idea that every man had his price; in other words, that every man could be influenced for or against a cause by bribery in some form or other.

Being a quick reader of character, he saw that Arnold was ambitious, and he at once began to wonder whether ambition would lead him to be false to Allen.

"You have treated me very kindly," he said to Arnold, "and I shall report to my superiors, though——"

He paused, and there was a world of meaning in that sudden silence.

"Why do you hesitate? I know what you would say."

"Do you?"

"Yes; shall I tell you?"

"If you please."

"And you will tell me whether I am right?"

"On my honor as a soldier and a gentleman."

"You were about to say that such a recommendation would not even be a plea in mitigation of the death penalty if I should fall into the hands of the English."

Again there was silence.

"I am answered. Your silence proves that I am right. You need not think I am offended. I know I should be treated as a rebel, not as a prisoner of war."

"And, knowing this, you joined these men against the rule of your sovereign?"

"I knew that if the colonists failed the leaders would be hanged; if they succeeded they would found a new nation, and the chances were worth risking."

"Did you not think that England has a large army and a strong navy at her back?"

"Yes, and I knew it had strong forts; this is one of them."

"You sneer! I admit that England behaved scurvily in allowing me to have so few men."

"Nay, nay, captain. Fifty men, if they felt an interest in their work, could hold this fort against an army."

"You are the victor and so have a right to rebuke me. But do not think England will allow the colonies to be independent."

"Perhaps not, but at any rate the colonies will have won respect for themselves."

"But the leaders will be hanged."

"So let it be."

"Can you face the thought of death like that?"

"I can, for my country will be saved from a serfdom which no self-respecting nation should submit to."

"If—mind, I say if, for I do not think there is the remotest chance—but if the colonies were successful, what could they do for you? I suppose you might be a governor, or something like that, with no salary to speak of, while if you had remained loyal to your king you might have a chance——"

"Of being snubbed, insulted and laughed at."

Delaplace smiled. He had learned the cause of Arnold's action in joining the colonists—it was disappointed ambition. Could he play on that and win over Arnold? If so, then he would regain the fort, and that by treachery; but what of that? Would not the result justify the means?

"My dear general"—Arnold smiled at the title—"if anyone insulted or snubbed you it was through a misunderstanding. Tell me about it, and I think all can be rectified."

"It is too late."

"Not so; it is never too late for a great nation to rectify a wrong done to even the humblest of its subjects, let alone a man of such undoubted courage and rectitude as Gen. Arnold."

"I am not a general, but only a captain—in this adventure only a private."

"You should be a general. If the king knew you as well as I have learned to do in these few hours, you most likely would have the control of the army in the colonies."

"But the king will never have an opportunity to know me."

"Why not?"

"Only success can make me known to the king."

"Or failure; and then it would be too late."

"You see how impossible it would be for the king to know me."

"If I speak confidentially will you treat it as sacred to you alone?"

"Certainly."

"Pledge me your honor that you will never divulge what I am going to say."

"I am a soldier and a gentleman. My word is enough."

"Then I will accept your word. If I were free I could gain the ear of the king's advisers."

"But you are not free yet, and it may be some time before an exchange can be made."

"Exchange! Do you not know that there will be no exchange possible? If any of the rebels fall into the hands of the English they will be shot or hanged at once."

"In that case you would stand a poor showing."

"How so?"

"Because the first man taken by your side and hanged would lead us to hang an equal number of your men, and officers would have the first piece of rope."

Delaplace had not expected to hear such strong sentiments from Arnold, but he laughed and said that a soldier dealing with rebels knew that he took great risks, and that he must be prepared for them.

"But," he added, in a whisper, "if I could slip out of this fort and gain the English lines——"

"But you cannot slip out."

"If you were to help me I would guarantee that you would be a general of the English army in less than forty-eight hours, and, once gain that position, there is no limit to your success."

Arnold listened.

It was wrong of him to do so.

There was a temporary hesitation, but in a few seconds of time that passed.

"Captain, you have dishonored yourself by suggesting treason, and I have dishonored myself in listening. Know this: I have given my allegiance to the cause of the Provincials, and I will rise or fall with them."

"Be it so. I shall live to see you hanged as a rebel."

Arnold bowed very low in acknowledgment of the kindly expression of opinion.

"Thank you, Capt. Delaplace. I have no wish to see you hanged, but should the English hang even a private in our ranks, I should have no hesitation in hanging you with my own hands."

Questionable sentiments on both sides, but Arnold felt strongly at that time, and expressed himself as he thought.

He left the room and called the sergeant on guard.

"Double your guard. If Capt. Delaplace escapes I shall hold you responsible, and your neck will feel the effects of a tightened noose."

It was a blunt way of speaking, but Arnold never was very courteous to those of lesser rank.

"I hate that man," Arnold soliloquized, "and yet—well, the die is cast. I might have risen to a proud distinction had I remained loyal to the king, but I have not, and so my lot is with the colonists, and may they win, or our lives are of but little value. How could Delaplace get the ear of the king? Zounds! I believe it was only to tempt me into disloyalty to the colonies that he made the proposition."

His soliloquy was interrupted by the entrance of Eli Forest.

"Colonel, your advice is needed. Col. Allen wishes to confer with you."

"I will be with him immediately. Ah! here he is. You honor me too much, Gen. Allen."

"Nay, we are on equal footing, my dear Arnold. I wanted to consult with you about two things. We must secure Crown Point, that is a settled fact, and we must maintain our possession of this fort. Now, what shall we do with the prisoners?"

"Keep them well guarded and wait until some of our men fall into the hands of the enemy, and then act with them as they do with us."

"Perhaps that will be the wisest plan. I had thought of liberating them on parole."

"It would be madness."

"You think so?"

"I am sure of it. In the eyes of these men we are rebels and outlaws, and their parole would not prevent them from bringing the whole force of the English against us."

"You are right. Will you appoint the guard?"

"Let Forest have charge of the prisoners and the fort."

"An admirable suggestion! So it shall be done."

"Ay, Forest, and shoot anyone who attempts to leave the fort, whether friend or foe."

"You are very stern, Arnold."

"These times demand sternness."



CHAPTER XVII.

CROWN POINT.

"Colonel, an army is approaching."

Ethan Allen at once thought that a regiment of English was about to try and wrest the fort from him.

He was agreeably disappointed when he saw that the men were his own Green Mountain Boys, led by Seth Warner.

Warner had been doing good work in Vermont, and, finding it advantageous to join his chief, he had marched his men to Ticonderoga.

A warm welcome was accorded the captain and his men, and Allen at once gave the command of the operations against Crown Point to Seth Warner.

The fortifications at Crown Point were erected at a cost of ten million dollars, and up to that time had never a shot been fired from them.

Trusting to the strength of the stone barracks and the extensive earthworks, England had kept only a small force at the fort, and at the time of the capture of Ticonderoga only a sergeant and twelve men composed the garrison.

Seth Warner was delighted at the honor conferred upon him by his chief.

Ethan Allen had a reason for keeping as strong a garrison at Ticonderoga as possible, for he feared that Delaplace might try to escape and perhaps recapture the fort.

Arnold was surly. He thought that Allen had lost confidence in him, but Allen reasoned the matter with his Connecticut hero, and satisfied him that no insult was intended.

Crown Point is about eleven miles north of Ticonderoga. The town itself lies six miles away from the fort.

Seth Warner started on his march, his men highly elated at the prospect of winning renown.

When about halfway they were met by a man dressed in the garb of a monk.

He carried a crucifix and a long staff.

His hair was white, and a long beard, which reached nearly to his waist, was as white as driven snow.

Waving his staff above his head, he called to the soldiers to stop.

Warner had no great liking for monks, though he was honest enough to respect every man's religion.

"What is it you would have, good father?" asked Warner.

"In the name of the ever true and good, I crave your assistance, and, if you will grant it, I will give you my blessing, which is better than rubies and more valuable than gold."

"In what way can we assist you, good father?"

"You are soldiers of liberty. Heaven will bless your swords, and you will live to see the flag of the tyrant go down in the dust, and a flag of a free nation will float over a free people. I am not allowed to fight, or I would gird on a sword and smite me right and left until the friends of the tyrant were all beneath the sod!"

"We thank you for your patriotic exhortation, but we have a mission to fulfill and we must not loiter."

"The mission is one which will not fail; I know that you have captured the strong fort at Ticonderoga, and that you will enter within the fortifications of Crown Point, but will you assist me?"

"What would you have us do?"

"To the east of you, one mile and one hundred yards, stands a house. It is a farmhouse. Its owner is no friend of the Provincials, and has a captive whom he holds for ransom."

"A captive? Held for ransom? Explain yourself!"

"This farmer, fearing that the English might be driven out of the country and that he would lose his possessions, because he is a great worker for the enemy, did find a young girl, who was related to one of the leaders of your holy cause, and he lured her into his house and holds her as a hostage. Should the Provincials take possession of his farm, he will kill the girl, so he says, and a man's word should be believed, and therefore I did make a vow to rescue this maiden from the grasp of the ungodly and restore her to her friends."

"Where did you say the farm was?"

"Tarry not, I beseech you, but travel to the east one mile and one hundred yards, and you will come to a snake fence; cross the field and you will see a house with a number of vines growing up its sides. Then ask for Farmer Mervale, and you have the man who dares to imprison one of the maidens the Lord loves."

Warner consulted with his friends, and they agreed that it would be well to rescue the maiden.

"You will go with us?" asked Warner.

"Nay, my duty lies in another direction."

The monk started away in an opposite direction to that which he had directed the army to take, and was soon lost to sight.

Then the men began to discuss his appearance and story.

"I do not believe him," said one.

"Yet he is a religious man, and therefore his word should be believed."

"He may be a spy."

"But why should he direct us to the farm?"

"The English may be in ambush."

"Then we must go, for, being forewarned we are forearmed, and shall gain a victory."

This idea prevailed, and the Mountain Boys commenced their march to the east.

When a mile had been traversed, as near as they could guess, Warner sent a scout forward to reconnoiter.

He returned quickly and said that there was no sign of an ambush, but the snake fence was there and the vine-covered house also.

"Go forward, Letsom, and find out all you can about the farmer and his household."

The man was an excellent fellow for such a purpose, though Seth Warner expressed a wish that Eben had been there, so that he might have gone.

Letsom returned an hour later.

"Farmer Mervale is a bitter Britisher," he reported, "and told me that if any of the rebels came to his house he would know how to deal with them. I asked him what he would do, and he replied that he would ask them to dine and would poison their soup."

"The villain!"

"He further said that every rebel, as he called us, should be shot like a rat."

"He is quite strong in his views."

"Yes, and one of his farm hands told me that a mad monk had been there, and it would be a wonder if he were alive on the morrow."

"A mad monk, said he?"

"Yes, those were his words—a mad monk."

"Boys, you have heard the report; shall we beard this Britisher in his home and find out if any maiden is imprisoned by him?"

A loud shout of assent rose from the Mountain Boys, and almost before it died away the men were on the march.

Farmer Mervale was at the door, an old musket in his hand, waiting for the "rebels."

"In the name of the king, what do you want here?"

Seth Warner answered:

"In the name of the Colonial Congress I demand the surrender of this house for the purpose of a search."

"Search! for what?"

"Guns, ammunition or anything that may be useful to the cause of liberty."

"Thieves! Whoever passes this door will have to do it over my dead body."

"Farmer Mervale, we mean you no harm if you are innocent, but if you are guilty then you must bear the punishment."

"Of what do you accuse me?"

Warner was about to equivocate and say that he believed arms were secreted on the premises, but he was too open for subterfuge, so he replied:

"We charge you with abducting and imprisoning a young maiden——"

"Ah! you have seen the mad monk?"

"Answer. Have you any maiden imprisoned on your premises?"

"If I had I should deny it, and if I have not I should still say that you are impertinent and a rebel who ought to be shot down."

The farmer had his weapon pointed at Warner and was about to shoot him, when his arm was knocked up from behind and the ball passed over his intended victim's head.

Instantly the man was seized and bound.

The musket had been seized by the hired hand, who had been the cause of the farmer's intention being frustrated.

"If you will let me join you I will fight for the cause of liberty," the man said, very earnestly.

"You must report to Col. Allen at Ticonderoga."

"I will go at once."

"Better stay with us and return when we do; we can vouch for your good act."

The farmer changed his tone when he was bound and therefore helpless. He cried out for mercy, declared that all he had said was in a joking sense, and that he hoped the Provincials would win in their fight against England.

"You coward!" hissed Warner. "I have a great mind to shoot you as an example and a warning to others."

"Spare me! I am old and——"

"Old? Why, man, you cannot be forty. Search the house!"

In a few minutes the searchers returned, leading Martha Baker, who was almost too weak to stand unsupported.

"Oh, Master Warner, I am so glad you came. I think I should have died if I had stayed another day in this horrid house."

"Tell me your story, Martha."

"I was sent by my aunt to Farmer Mervale to arrange for an exchange of eggs. You see, aunt had a lot of hen's eggs and Farmer Mervale had a lot of duck's eggs, and the two wanted to exchange. When I reached here the farmer asked me my name, and then if I was any relation of Remember Baker, and I told him that I was his sister. Then he asked me to go upstairs to help count the eggs. I did so, and the farmer told me that he was going to keep me there, because if my brother attempted to do anything to his brother, who was a soldier in Ticonderoga, he would kill me. Then he tortured me by saying that he would poison some soup and invite the rebels to dinner with him, and that when they had all eaten heartily he would kill me before their eyes."

The farmer heard the girl's statement, and, instead of denying it, declared it was all a joke, which, perhaps, it was, but it was cruel, and the perpetrator of such a joke deserved punishment.

Warner ordered his men to strip the farmer to the waist and introduce him to the "birch dance," as summary punishment was called.

Fifty good, sharp strokes across the bare back with strong beechen sticks made Farmer Mervale wish he had been less fond of joking and illegally imprisoning a girl.

Martha told how she had seen the monk, and had called to him through the open window, telling him how she had been served, and also asking him to let the Mountain Boys know of her detention.

How well the eccentric monk had fulfilled his mission we have seen.

It was rather late in the afternoon when the strong fort at Crown Point was reached.

Seth Warner called to the sentinel who stood guard at the gate.

"Tell your commander that I must see him at once."

"I cannot leave my post."

"Spoken like a brave soldier. Surrender!"

"To whom?"

"To the army of the Continental Congress."

"I am a soldier of the king, and to no one else will I surrender my gun, except my superior so wills it."

"Brave soldier. I shall be under the necessity of taking the gun away from you by force."

The man fired the musket in the air.

That was a signal for the garrison to assemble.

Seeing a hundred men with Warner, the sergeant quickly raised the white flag, and so, without the shedding of a drop of blood, two of the strongest forts on Lake Champlain passed into the hands of the brave men who were fighting for the liberty of their native land.

A garrison was left in charge of Crown Point, and then Warner marched back to Ticonderoga.

Remember Baker was full of gratitude for the rescue of his sister, and would have liked to meet Farmer Mervale at that hour, for the farmer had got off too easily, he thought.



CHAPTER XVIII.

"WHO IS COMMANDER?"

Within five days of the capture of Ticonderoga, the Green Mountain Boys, under the command of Capt. Herrick, had captured Skenesborough, while another detachment under Capt. Douglass had taken Panton, a strong fort on the lake.

As the Assembly of Connecticut had authorized the capture of Fort Ticonderoga, Allen dispatched two trusty messengers to New Haven to acquaint the governor and assembly.

So that no unfairness could be charged, the two selected were Eli Forest and Remember Baker.

Ethan Allen was seated in his room in the barracks alone smoking a corncob pipe, a favorite with him and most Green Mountain farmers.

A timid knock was heard at the door, and Allen called out cheerily:

"Come in!"

The door opened and Eben entered.

"Why, Eben, you are a stranger; where have you been?"

"In the fort, colonel, almost a prisoner."

"A prisoner?"

"Yes, colonel. That man—pardon me, I mean Col. Arnold—has told me to keep to my own quarters and not move about the fort until I am ordered."

"By what authority?"

"He says he is commander of the fort and will not have me spying round; that is what he calls it."

"I am commander here, and I expect you to obey me."

"Yes, colonel. Did you know that the colonel—Arnold, I mean—is arranging to send ammunition to New Haven?"

"No."

"I heard him give the order."

"You did?"

"Yes, colonel."

"Is Martha Baker still in the fort?"

"Yes, colonel; and I think she would like to stay here until her brother can look after her."

"And you would not object to her staying?"

"No; why should I?"

"I thought that you liked her society."

"So I do, colonel, when I can see her, but Col. Arnold has kept her pretty close in the room which was assigned her."

It was the end of May, and Ethan Allen was waiting news from Boston.

News had just reached him that the Continental Congress, sitting in Philadelphia, had drawn up articles of confederation, and that those articles had been signed by the representatives of thirteen colonies.

And the news also came that on the same day the people of North Carolina had held a convention at Charlotte and declared themselves independent of the British crown, and that they had organized a local government and pledged themselves to raise and equip an army.

This was pleasing news, but Allen wanted to hear more from Boston.

The information conveyed to him by Eben was disquieting.

Was it possible that Benedict Arnold was taking things into his own hands and acting without consulting him?

He sent for Arnold.

"Well, sir, you wished to see me?"

"Yes, colonel; I wanted to know if it were true that you had arranged to send a portion of our cannon and ammunition to New Haven?"

"It is quite true."

"Why did you not consult me?"'

"It was not necessary."

"I am commander here."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Allen."

Allen passed over the insulting way in which Benedict Arnold addressed him, and very calmly replied:

"You came to me as a volunteer, and I accepted your services and those of your men."

"Quite true."

"Since when, then, have you been given the command?"

"It is time, Mr. Allen, that we should understand each other. I am a commissioned colonel. I bear that rank according to the laws of my colony, Connecticut. Moreover, I was commissioned a colonel by the Provincial Assembly at Cambridge. You hold no rank except that given you by some farmers who have not even the right to elect a representative, but are only squatters on land belonging either to New Hampshire or New York. When the fort was captured it became a military necessity that some one should be in command who would have power to treat with the enemy, and, as you were only—well, a Green Mountain Boy, the command fell upon me."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, and I was thinking of asking you to retire, as your plebeian conduct with the men is apt to injure discipline, and so demoralize the small army."

"You are very considerate."

"It is my duty. I shall take care that your bravery shall be acknowledged."

"Thank you!"

"I must confess that for one who has had no military training you have behaved wonderfully well. The thanks of Connecticut will be awarded to you in due season, and I will see that whatever personal expense you may have been put to shall be reimbursed to you out of the amount voted by the assembly."

"And I suppose you wish the Green Mountain Boys to leave the same time you desire me to go?"

"No, we have need of men. I shall call them all together and ask them to volunteer as soldiers in the new Continental army, and the officers shall retain the rank they hold at present."

"You have developed the plan very fully."

"Yes, and believe me, Mr. Allen, that I only wish that I could ask you to volunteer; you see yourself that it would be impossible."

"Yes, it would."

"Having been the commander, it would be humiliating for you to accept a lower rank, and besides, the men might think you had a right to give general orders, and thus there would be confusion."

"You are right."

"When can you be ready to leave?"

"I do not know."

"What do you say to the first of June?"

"It depends."

"On what? I will give you an escort."

"When I leave I will arrange for my own escort, should I need one. But it was not of that I was thinking."

"Of what, then?"

"The return of the messengers from New Haven."

"That need not bother you. The report will be made to me, as commanding officer."

"Will it?"

"Certainly, so you can arrange to leave on the first of the month."

"Thank you."

"That is settled, then?"

"Is it?"

"Yes. I am very glad, for I have had a very unpleasant task."

Allen had remained so calm that Arnold was deceived.

He staggered like a drunken man when Allen turned on him, and, in tones which could not be misunderstood, said:

"I have heard all you have to say, and I now tell you that in the name of the Great Jehovah I shall remain here as long as I please, or until the general of the Continental Congress removes me, and, what is more, I shall remain in command, and if you dare to interfere with me or my command, by the Great Jehovah I will send you to Philadelphia in irons! You are removed from all responsibility until further orders. Go, or I may forget myself!"



CHAPTER XIX.

NEWS FROM BOSTON.

Benedict Arnold had found his master.

This man, whose ambition was colossal, had imagined that the Green Mountain farmer would quail before him and surrender the command.

Arnold's ambition was plausible. What could a farmer know of military affairs? True, Arnold had been a merchant, but then he had studied at Yale and had made military subjects his special forte, and he had been complimented by soldiers of high repute.

Then, had not the English Capt. Delaplace told him he should be a general, and if he remained with the colonies he should have the command of all the forces the young nation could put into the field?

All this had made him believe himself a great man.

But he had encountered a greater.

Ethan Allen, mountaineer, farmer, amateur soldier, as Arnold had called him, proved to be the superior of the polished Yale graduate.

Arnold retired to his quarters, feeling very glum.

Allen sent for Seth Warner. He wanted some one on whom he could rely.

He told Warner what had happened, and the honest Vermonter suggested that Arnold should be placed under arrest and tried by court-martial.

But such a course Allen would not countenance. He felt that Arnold was not dangerous, and that he could afford to leave him to his own conscience.

"I hear that cannon and ammunition was about to be shipped to New Haven?"

"Yes, colonel; most of the spoil was to be sent there. We all thought that it was by your order."

"Zounds, man! I never heard of it until young Eben told me just now."

"We all thought that he was obeying your instructions, and, therefore, why should we come and tell you?"

"That is so. Do not allow one gun to leave the fort."

Eben entered the room, and was out of breath.

"What is it, Eben?"

"If you please—I—have—news——"

"What is it?"

"I—have been—across—the lake. I——"

"Sit down and get your breath; you will be able to talk plainer. No danger threatens us?"

"No—I—don't think so."

Eben fanned himself and gradually became calmer. But he was so eager to tell his news that he could not wait long enough to be quite coherent.

"News from Boston," he jerked out; and at once Ethan Allen was as much excited as Eben.

"What news? Who brought it? Quick, Eben; don't you see how anxious I am to hear all about it?"

"All the English army has landed at Boston, and they have hanged the men we loved. At least, I think so; I was in so great a hurry that I did not wait to hear all."

"Who brought the news?"

"No one yet. They are riding like the mischief, but I jumped in my boat and paddled across, and then ran like the wind to be first. They are here now."

Two men were admitted into the presence of Ethan Allen and Seth Warner.

After the usual salutes and the presentation of a short letter from Sam Adams, telling Allen that he could believe all the men told him, they were asked to tell their story.

"On the twenty-fifth we saw the great gunboats and the men-of-war in the harbor getting ready for some move. We wondered what they could be doing, but only for a few minutes, for we saw other vessels moving into the harbor, and then the cannon belched forth in salute. The noise deafened us, and the jarring broke lots of windows. We soon knew that ten thousand men had arrived in the harbor, and that England was going to crush us——"

"You mean to try and crush us."

"Yes. Three generals had come over with reinforcements; they were Howe, Clinton and Burgoyne. Gage was like a mad creature. He danced and shouted like a boy getting an unexpected vacation. Then he said he would hang Adams and Hancock with his own hands on Boston Common, but Burgoyne stopped him and suggested trying an offer of pardon——"

"Of pardon?"

"Yes. There is a proclamation signed by Gage, offering pardon to all who will surrender and acknowledge that they have done wrong, except Samuel Adams and John Hancock, and these are said to be guilty of treason and must die; that is, when Gage catches them."

"Well, what say the people?"

"That we will fight it out."

"Good!"

"And that if Adams and Hancock are traitors, so are they all."

"Well?"

"Gage heard of the defiance, and at once gave notice that he should sally out of Boston and burn all the neighboring towns and devastate the country."

"He did, eh?"

"Yes, and the people say they will give him a warm reception."

"Warner, shall we join the men at Boston?"

"You are commissioned to hold Ticonderoga," said the messenger, "and so prevent the British using it against us."

"That we will do. Warner, give orders that all the cannon and the ammunition we can spare be sent as rapidly as possible to the patriots. We must help them all we can."

"That is the right way to talk, colonel; I feel ever so much better now; there is a rope ready for my neck if I fail."

The messengers who brought the news from the patriots of Massachusetts were entertained right royally, and took back with them a good impression of Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys.

But it was not an opinion only that they took back with them, for they had an escort of fifty men, and with them were twenty heavy cannon, with good ammunition, and a promise of as many more heavy guns as soon as horses could be procured to haul them.

"Tell Gen. Gage, if you see him," said Allen, "that the rope which he has for Sam Adams must be long enough and strong enough for Ethan Allen and his Mountain Boys, for they will never surrender as long as they have strength to shoulder a musket or draw a sword."

The day after the men left for Boston a letter from the governor of New Hampshire was received by Allen, ordering him to return home and lay down his sword.

To this letter Allen replied:

"I will gladly lay down my sword, for I hate fighting, but cannot do so until England recognizes the independence of the colonies or until the people themselves have concluded an honorable peace with Great Britain."

Arnold contrived to send a letter to New Hampshire and one to New Haven, in which he reported the "treachery and tyranny of the man Ethan Allen."

There is no proof that either of the recipients did anything save throw the letters into the fire.

On the following day Baker and Forest returned from New Haven, bearing with them the thanks of the colony to Col. Ethan Allen and Col. Benedict Arnold. The latter containing the thanks of the assembly, engrossed on parchment and sealed with the seal of the colony, placed Allen in the first place, and only mentioned Arnold as a coadjutor.

The two emissaries were escorted to Ticonderoga by Col. Hinman and a regiment of Connecticut soldiers.

Hinman was commissioned to aid Allen in any way that he could, and to act under his direction.

Allen, however, determined on a wider field for himself and men than merely remaining as a garrison of a fort, with the mild excitement of an occasional scrimmage with the enemy when out on a foraging expedition, so he handed over the forts to Col. Hinman, taking a receipt for the same.

That curious old document is perhaps the only one in existence of the kind, for it is a receipt for the delivery of the forts of Ticonderoga, Crown Point and Skenesburgh, and is made out much in the same way as a receipt for a few dollars would be.

Arnold was to remain with Hinman for a time, but with the lower rank of major.

With only a small number of followers, including Seth Warner, Remember Baker, Eben Pike and twenty trusty mountaineers, Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga, left the fort and proceeded to Albany.



CHAPTER XX.

A ROADSIDE ADVENTURE.

It was a daring thing to do, but Ethan Allen thought only of his country, and how to benefit the national cause.

The proclamation offering a large reward for him, dead or alive, was still to be seen on the public buildings of the towns and villages through which he passed.

Though every one knew him, for his identity could not be concealed, he was as safe as in his mountain home.

The people of New York were ready to cast in their lot with the colonies which had declared their independence, and, though nominally loyal to England, the Yorkers were only waiting an opportunity to openly throw off the yoke and declare themselves independent.

"The Hero of Ticonderoga," as Allen was called everywhere, was lionized by the people, though those in authority were compelled to appear as though they did not recognize him.

When Allen reached Albany he at once went to the Assembly Hall.

Marching up to the speaker's desk he said, in a loud voice:

"I am Ethan Allen, leader of the Green Mountain Boys, and I have come, not to surrender to you or to lower my claims to the lands in the New Hampshire grants, which we now call Vermont, but to ask you to listen to a plan by which our country may become a nation, free and independent."

"I propose that the assembly go into secret session to hear the Hero of Ticonderoga."

The speaker was one who had been most bitter against Allen when he had appeared there sometime before to argue in favor of the men of Vermont.

"Let it be understood that New York, in listening to Ethan Allen, does not relinquish its claims to the lands which he culls Vermont."

"That matter can well be left in abeyance," said Allen. "There is a greater one—that of our independence as a nation."

"On that subject we will hear you!"

"I ask that the proceedings shall be secret."

"That is understood."

Ethan Allen, with a natural eloquence and rugged fervor, laid before the representatives of the people a plan for the invasion of Canada.

He showed how, with daring and quickness, the country north of the St. Lawrence could be captured, thereby inflicting an injury on the British, and taking from them a large tract of country, which could be made so valuable an adjunct of the colonies south of the St. Lawrence when they became independent.

He had gathered information which showed how easily all Canada could be captured, save, perhaps, the citadel of Quebec.

He was listened to patiently. He was cheered when he spoke of the gallant attack on Quebec by Wolfe and the heroic defense of the French general, Montcalm; and tears rolled down many cheeks when he recalled how the French hero, wounded unto death, expressed a pleasure that he should not live to witness the surrender of Quebec.

Then, with solemn voice, he told how the English had but a small garrison at the citadel, and how it could be taken unawares and maybe captured as easily as Ticonderoga.

In one thing did Ethan Allen fail.

He hinted that perhaps the French Canadians would help the Yorkers and participate in the driving out of the British from North America.

We say that was a mistake, because the people still remember the great struggle against the French, and the fierce war between the colonies acknowledging England and France.

One man, afterward one of the foremost to welcome Lafayette to New York, declared that it would be better to be the slaves of England than the friends of France.

"Better serfdom, degradation, death under England's flag than liberty if obtained by the assistance of France."

His fiery speech turned the tide of feeling against Ethan Allen and the invasion of Canada, and the assembly absolutely refused to listen any further to Allen.

Some were ungenerous enough to taunt him with suggesting the plan on purpose to save himself from arrest.

Others wanted to know if he expected to be the general commanding.

"No, I should have asked permission to join as a private soldier, for I have no ambition to command even a squad."

"What, then, was your object?"

"I live to serve my country; I hope to see her free and independent."

Saying which, he left the hall, and his Mountain Boys were downhearted at the treatment he had received.

"Shall we return to our mountains?" asked Baker.

"No; at least I shall not. I shall journey to Philadelphia and see what the Continental Congress is doing."

"We will go with you."

"I shall be glad of your company, though maybe you have more urgent matters at home to attend to."

"That was unkind, colonel," Seth Warner murmured.

"I meant it not so, believe me. I know that all of you are ready to serve your country."

Albany was left behind and the party started south for Philadelphia.

After a long march a place of rest was sought.

It was nothing unusual for a semi-military company to be on the march, and so the party did not attract any extraordinary attention.

A farmhouse seemed best suited for the refreshment and rest required, and one was found which seemed to answer all purposes.

Warner went forward to interview the farmer, and soon returned with the pleasing news that the party could have supper, rest for the night, and breakfast in the morning for a most moderate sum.

The farmer was hospitable.

He killed some chickens and a young pig, and in a very short time the odor of cooking was very appetizing.

After supper the farmer insisted on bringing out several flagons of good cider, strong and old, for it was the last year's make.

Song and story enlivened the evening.

Warner told of the days when he had hunted the wild bear and met with some startling adventures.

Baker recounted many a stirring episode in the life of a hunter, and Allen, who passed under an assumed name, kept up the interest by narrating a story of ancient knighthood.

"Seems to me that there are as great heroes to-day as in olden times," the farmer remarked.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Now, in the troubles we are just encountering, there will be opportunities for heroism."

"Yes, and many a brave boy will sleep in a nameless grave."

"That is true; but if we get rid of England's rule and that of the tones, these same boys will rest well in their graves."

"You seem to think the patriots are right."

"I know they are, and I tell you, my masters, that as long as I have a stalk of corn on my farm I'll divide it with any boy who fights against the oppressor."

"Bravo! but methinks the people round about do not think as you do."

"Many are afraid to speak, because, if they did, and the English were successful, they would be made to suffer; and if the patriots win, as I am sure they will, then the silent man may be counted a patriot."

"Very wisely stated."

"My idea of a great man is——"

The farmer paused.

"Excuse me, I thought I heard some one at the window. No, I was wrong, and yet I could have sworn I saw a face as I looked up."

"You were saying that your ideal of a man was——"

"Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga. I tell you, he is right all the time. He was right about those land grants. If the land had been of no value New Hampshire might have had all the land, but because it proved rich, of course York coveted it."

"Have you ever seen Ethan Allen?" Warner asked.

"No. I would give half my farm to do so."

"You needn't do that. Look at him; that is the hero of Ticonderoga, and I am Seth Warner who tells you so."

The farmer was overjoyed, and became so excited that he shouted and danced with joy.

There was a sudden stop put to his merriment. Something fell over outside the window.

"I could have sworn it before, but now I know some one was there. That milk can could not fall down without hands. I'll find the scurvy wretch and thrash him into sense!"

The milk can had been thrown down, but no one was in sight, and after a search the party returned to the large kitchen, where they again replenished their glasses with cider.

In an interval of the fraternal mirth Eben got close to Allen and asked him to spare a few moments.

"What is it, Eben?"

"I like it not, colonel. Some one was at that window at the time you were discovered, and the knocking over of the milk can was an accident; the man who did it has gone to find some English who will pay well for your capture."

"You are too suspicious, Eben."

"Perhaps so, colonel, but do be careful."

"I will. I have no desire to get into any jail, and I am sure that I like life too well to risk it needlessly."

It was after ten o'clock, a late hour in those days, before the farmer would listen to any suggestion of retiring for the night.

He wanted Allen to sleep in the house—the others were to occupy the hay loft—but Allen declared that he would share the loft with his friends, and that no man should say that he had accepted better treatment than his followers.

As it was impossible for all to stay in the house, the farmer gave way and allowed Allen to share the hay loft.

It was a happy party that climbed up the stairs into the place, where the sweet odor of the hay created a desire for sleep.

In less than ten minutes the hay had been too much for them, and all were asleep.

No, not all, for Eben only pretended to sleep; he was wide awake, for he feared treachery, and determined to be on the alert.

The boy was a natural wonder. He never knew what it was to be tired. He could march farther than most men, eat less and do without sleep, and never did he appear to be the least wearied.

The hour of midnight had passed and the early morning, according to the manner of marking time, had commenced; in other words, it was one o'clock when Eben fancied he heard a slight noise.

He was in a position where he could see everything outside, and as the moon was shining brightly he was not long in discerning a number of men moving toward the barn.

He crawled across to Ethan and gently shook him.

"Colonel, we are betrayed."

Allen was about to jump, when Eben whispered:

"Lie still or you will be seen; the loft door is open. I can wake the others, and would it not be well to let them come right up into the loft before we strike?"

"Eben, you ought to be a general. Wake the others and caution them to lie still."

The boy crawled round the loft and quickly did his work.

When Ethan knew that all were awake he spoke in a loud whisper to them:

"Eben has suggested a plan of campaign and I shall adopt it. We must all pretend to be asleep. Let the English enter the loft, and, when the opportunity arises, let the English be on the ground and the patriots above them."

Every man lay perfectly still, and it really seemed as though Eben had been mistaken, for the time was so long before any attempt was made to enter the loft.

Eben knew all that was transpiring. He saw a man's head rise above the floor and look around, and then he heard the man descend the ladder.

It was fully five minutes after he had reached the ground before he again ascended.

The man crawled along the floor and lay perfectly still.

Another, then another, ascended the ladder, until a dozen soldiers in uniform were in the loft.

Eben was not the only one who had watched their movements, for each of the Mountain Boys had one eye sufficiently open to see them.

A rustling of the hay was the signal given by the sergeant for the English to rise.

Each man rose to his feet and stood over the apparently sleeping colonials.

But no sooner had the enemy taken its position than the mountaineers put out their hands suddenly and grasped the soldiers by the legs.

In an instant every soldier was on his back, thrown to the floor with a violence which he did not relish.

And over each man stood one of the mountaineers, ready to blow out the soldier's brains did he attempt to move.

"Get up!" commanded Allen.

Each man rose, looking very sheepish.

"Hand over your guns and other weapons."

The soldiers obeyed. Not because they desired to do so, but at each man's head was a pistol, and in each pistol was a bullet which meant a nameless grave for the man who received it.

The captured men were made to descend the ladder, but no chance of escape was given them, for at the foot of the ladder stood some of the Mountain Boys, ready to fire if necessary.

There was a coil of rope in the barn, and this Allen utilized in securing the prisoners in a novel fashion. He ordered the men to be tied in couples, the right leg of one to the left leg of his mate, after the fashion of a three-legged race. Then the couples were united by a rope which wound round their arms and passed from one couple to another, to prevent the party separating.

Warner roused the farmer, and that man was so indignant that he proposed shooting each of the prisoners.

"No, no," said Allen, "they only obeyed orders. I shall let them go this time, if they will tell me the name of the informer."

The English soldiers were loyal and refused to purchase their release on such terms.

After an early breakfast Allen was ready to resume his journey, and he ordered the prisoners to march before him.

When the farm had been left behind a distance of a mile, he told the prisoners they were free to go where they liked, but as a precaution against being followed, he did not unfasten them, knowing that it might be hours before they succeeded in getting loose.



CHAPTER XXI.

THE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS.

The old hall in Philadelphia, where the city fathers met, was filled with a notable gathering, representing eleven colonies.

Those men constituted the Second Continental Congress.

The first had been held in October, 1765, and a resolution was adopted declaring that the American colonists, as Englishmen, would not and could not consent to be taxed but by their own representatives. This resolution was called forth through the passage of the "Stamp Act."

The Second Congress assembled in Philadelphia in September, 1774, and pledged the colonies to support Massachusetts in her conflict with the English ministry, and after petitioning the king and the English people, adjourned to meet, as it happened, on the very day that Ethan Allen captured Ticonderoga.

The members of that Congress were all loyal to England. The time for independence had not come.

But what a galaxy of men!

There were such giants among men as Benjamin Franklin, Patrick Henry, Samuel and John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson and George Washington.

But among all those men there was not one whose ambition led him to place self above country.

John Adams told the Congress that the time had come when the English people must learn that it would be better to die fighting for liberty than to live in perpetual slavery.

Not a man wanted war.

Washington had been a soldier with Braddock, and had won distinction, but he was for peace. Jefferson demanded liberty, but he deprecated war. Sam Adams startled the members by saying that if England persisted in a policy of coercion it would be necessary to fight, yet even Adams believed in peace.

John Adams made a strong speech, in which he asked why a tyrant ever exercised tyranny, and he answered the question by saying it was because the people were unable to resist.

"Let us be strong enough to enforce our demands," said he, "and the king or his ministers will fall back and concede all we ask."

He waited to see the effect of his words.

There was silence.

"Yes, brothers, it is only the strong that obtain justice. The weak petition and are spurned, the strong ask and they are listened to with attention, and their demands granted.

"These colonies should be Great Britain's strength, they are her weakness. Give us the right to make our own laws, to raise the taxation as we please, to defend our coasts from external assaults and our land from internal troubles, and we shall honor the king and prove that the American Confederation of Colonies is the strength of that country. Let us tell the king plainly what we want. Let our petition be backed by a good army, and we shall win."

"What do you propose?" asked Jefferson.

"I propose that we organize an army, not of one colony, but of a confederation of all colonies, and that we appoint a commander-in-chief, a man who shall be able to organize the army and to lead it, ay, even if it be necessary until we have entire independence."

"Where could we find such a man?" asked one of the Northern delegates.

"We have one here. The man who saved the wreck of Braddock's army is just the one to build a nation. I nominate George Washington as the commander-in-chief of the army of liberation!"

There was an outburst of cheering such as the Quaker City had but seldom heard.

The delegates knew Washington.

He was a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, and had previously made a name for himself with Braddock.

When his name was mentioned by Adams he left the hall.

He was afraid to remain for fear he should be called upon to accept.

He wanted time for deliberation.

The congress adjourned until the following Thursday.

The delegates talked the matter over, and when the Congress reassembled George Washington was the unanimous choice of the delegates.

But before he was asked to give his answer, articles of confederation were drawn up and signed, and the colonies became one for the purposes of mutual defense.

"I fear that this day will mark the downfall of my reputation," said Washington to Patrick Henry when he heard he was unanimously selected to organize an army of twenty thousand men, who were undisciplined, without weapons, without arms of any kind worth speaking of, and having no money to pay for the food they would require, not mentioning arms.

The question of salary was next discussed, but Washington stopped it by emphatically declaring that he would not touch one penny of salary, and only asked that out-of-pocket expenses should be paid.

In the midst of the cheering which these words evoked, Ethan Allen entered the hall.

"Who is that man?" asked John Hancock.

"Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga," answered Sam Adams.

The cheering broke out again, but this time it was for the Green Mountain leader.

Again and again did the walls re-echo with the plaudits.

Then Sam Adams called Ethan Allen to the chairman's desk, and John Hancock warmly congratulated the hero.

A resolution of thanks was passed, and Allen was asked to introduce his friends.

Seth Warner and Remember Baker were welcomed as able coadjutors, and Allen took care to say that they were typical of all the Mountain Boys, and that what they had done was only a foretaste of what they would do if necessary.

Eben Pike was called up, and the boy bashfully wriggled—no one could call it walking—up to John Hancock's desk.

When Allen told of the bravery of the young scout and of the way in which he had so recently saved his friends from falling into the hands of the English, Hancock rose from his seat and called for three hearty cheers for the young hero.

Then the Congress settled down to work and appointed officers to assist Washington.

What a brave lot of men! Their names cannot be too often repeated.

The major-generals were Artemus Ward, Charles Lee, Phillip Schuyler and Israel Putnam—the famous wolf-den Putnam. Then the brigadier-generals comprised Richard Montgomery, Seth Pomeroy, David Wooster, William Heath, Joseph Spencer, John Thomas and Nathaniel Greene. The adjutant-general was Horatio Gates.

Allen overheard Gen. Schuyler speak of Canada and of its importance.

Allen made his acquaintance and asked him to allow him to tell of the plan New York had rejected.

Schuyler was delighted, and thanked the Vermonter warmly.

"If ever you are in command of such an army of invasion," said Allen, "I shall ask to be allowed to join as a volunteer."

"My dear Allen, there is not a man in all Philadelphia at the present moment I would rather have," answered the general.

Alas! what suffering was to follow that conversation!



CHAPTER XXII.

EBEN'S ADVENTURES.

Among the men who were to lead the colonial armies Allen had his attention attracted to Richard Montgomery, who was to share with Schuyler the responsibility of the invasion of Canada.

Montgomery was one of the most fascinating men who rallied to the standard of the colonies.

He was an Irishman, the son of a member of the British parliament, and was educated in Trinity College, Dublin.

In 1754 he obtained a commission in the army, and with his regiment came to this country, and, although only eighteen years old, he distinguished himself for personal bravery in many an action.

In 1760 he was with Gen. Wolfe, and became the adjutant of the regiment.

After distinguishing himself in the expedition against Havana and Martinique, he returned to England and stayed there nine years.

But he yearned for America, and so sold his commission and came to New York, where he married and took a leading part with the sturdy men who refused to bow the knee to English tyranny.

When the Continental Congress was held Montgomery was a delegate, and he pledged his sword in defense of the popular rights.

No wonder that Ethan Allen should be pleased with the Irishman. They were kindred spirits.

Montgomery asked Allen to tell him of the struggle of the Vermonters against the pretensions of New York.

Allen did so, but somewhat bitterly.

"Nay, my dear Allen, do not let that irritate you. We shall soon make common cause, and instead of the colonies we shall have a nation, and we shall be citizens, not subjects."

"Citizens!" Allen repeated.

"Yes, mark me. If the colonies become a nation there will be a free government based on equal rights, and none will be subject to another, but all be equal before the law."

Montgomery saw more clearly into the future than did even Washington.

When the Congress was over, and Washington commenced his work of creating an army, Allen returned home, somewhat disappointed.

He had expected a commission in the new army, but his name was passed over by Congress.

It was afterward proved that the omission was the result of inadvertence, for it was supposed that he had a commission from the general in command of the Colonials at Boston, and the order was made confirming all such commissions.

The summer was passing, and no action had been taken.

Allen was getting weary of the delay.

He could not understand why Boston had not been taken and the English driven out. Then he heard that Benedict Arnold had received a commission, and was leading an army into Canada to attack Quebec.

In despair Allen left his home and crossed to Ticonderoga, determined to offer his services to the Connecticut captain who was in command of the little garrison.

He was sitting on a gun on the day of his arrival on the scene of his great exploit, when a boy, dirty, ragged and half starved, entered the fort and stood opposite Allen.

"Don't you know me, colonel?"

"Is that you, Eben?"

"Yes. I am Eben Pike, and right glad I am to see you."

"How did you enter? Where have you been?"

Eben did not answer. He was too weak. His body swayed, his limbs trembled, and he would have fallen had not Allen caught him.

As gently as a mother carries her child, the hero of Ticonderoga bore the half-famished boy into the barracks and asked that he should receive attention.