"You must lead us, Colonel!" exclaimed Warner, who, although he had no such following as did Allen, was sure of a goodly company of determined men to join the expedition. "We'll follow you into Old Ti or anywhere else; but no stranger must command."

"Then I must have more men to my following than anybody else," declared Allen, vigorously. "I have seen a great many myself, but there are districts I haven't been able to reach."

"We must send out a cross of fire to rouse the clans," Captain Warner said, with a smile. "But who shall go? Bolderwood?"

"'Siah has reached his own land—where he's let the light in upon some acres, I understand—near Old Ti. And he's got his work cut out for him there. No; I have the chap in mind to send up along the Otter. There's only one thing I fear. I understand that a plaguey Yorker has been seen about Manchester for a week past. Just what he's so attentive to certain people for at this time bothers me, Seth."

"But if he's only a surveyor, or speculator——"

"A Yorker means a King's man these times," exclaimed Allen. "I got a sight of him—a lean, hook-nosed fellow with a face puckered like a walnut; but we didn't pass the time o' day. I think he's spying on us."

"If he is——" began Warner, wrathfully.

"I'm sorry for him, that's all," declared the Green Mountain leader. "If I catch him and it's proven against him, I'll hang him to the highest limb in this neck of woods."

"But the person you will send out with the warning, Colonel?" cried Warner. "Whom have you in your mind?"

"I see him coming now," declared the leader, laughing. "I sent word to him last evening. He should have been to Castleton ere this; but the widow——"

"It's young Harding!" cried Captain Warner. "I recognize him. And, Colonel, from what I have seen of the young man, he'll bear out your confidence in him."

Enoch had approached near enough to hear this last and he flushed deeply. "I was told you wanted to see me, Colonel Allen," he said, saluting awkwardly.

"I do indeed," said Allen. "You're ready for campaigning, I see. Leave your traps—even to your blanket and gun—with Master Fay here. You'll want to travel light where I send you," and he proceeded to explain the mission he wished the youth to perform.

"I am ready, Colonel," declared Enoch, throwing off his knapsack.

"Good! Away with you at once. Use yonder horse till you get to Manchester. Beyond that there will scarcely be bridle paths, so a horse will be in your way. Take the word around that the time has come to strike. And have them rendezvous at Castleton. Be off, my boy, and may success go with you!"

The horse in question was a fine steed that Allen had ridden into town that very morning. The youth sprang into the saddle and, understanding that haste and cautiousness were the two things most desired of him, trotted the animal easily out of the town and then put the spurs to him along the road to Manchester. He spared neither the horse nor himself until he reached the latter place and had left the steed in the keeping of a loyal man to be returned at the first opportunity to Colonel Allen. Of course, all the men in this section of the Grants had been warned of the proposed expedition against the fortresses on Champlain; it was those who dwelt deeper in the wilderness to whom young Enoch Harding had been sent.

He knew what was expected of him. And he knew, too, how most of the Grants people would receive the news. Colonel Allen was beloved by them as were few leaders. This Connecticut giant who had given up his desire for a college education and a life among books because duty called him to the work of supporting his family, who had been by turn a farmer, an iron forger, had tried mining and other toilsome industries, but who nearly always worked with a book in his hand or beside him where he could read and study—this man with his free, jovial air and utterly reckless courage, was become as one of the heroes of old to the people of Vermont. The men on his side of the controversy in which Allen had taken such a deep interest, loved him devotedly; those who espoused the New York cause hated him quite as dearly, for they feared him.

So when Enoch set out from Manchester to go from farmstead to farmstead and from clearing to clearing, he was not in much doubt as to whom he should send to Castleton and whom he should pass by without speaking to regarding the proposed expedition. There would be no doubtful settlers. The line between Tories and Whigs was drawn too sharply; and every Whig stood by Ethan Allen.

Enoch had learned something of the paths and runways of this part of the Grants. It had been near here that Lot Breckenridge and himself, with Crow Wing, had spent a winter trapping. Lot had now gone, so he had heard, to Boston as he said he should if fighting began. He had gone to help Israel Putnam and the other New England leaders pen the British into the city and aid in that series of maneuvres which finally drove the red-coats into their ships. As for himself, Enoch was only eager to be one of those who should storm the walls of Ticonderoga, and glad as he was to have been singled out for this present duty, he was determined to husband his strength so as to get back to Castleton before the army gathering there should move against the British fortifications.

He walked rapidly; more often he ran. In the pouch at his belt he carried parched corn, like an Indian on the warpath. Occasionally at a clearing, where some hardy borderer was scratching a living from the half-cleared soil, he would stop long enough to eat. But usually he halted only to give the good man of the house the message from Ethan Allen and, as he passed on and entered the forest on the further side he looked back to see the settler, his gun on his shoulder, bidding his family good-bye preparatory to setting out for the rendezvous appointed for the American troops.

But nature revolts when a certain point of exhaustion is reached. Refusing to remain the night at one kindly settler's home, Enoch finally found himself in the forest a goodly distance from any other house. The path could be followed quite easily, the woods being open; but he was footsore and thoroughly wearied. He shrank from lying down beside the trail, however, for more reasons than one. On several occasions that afternoon he had heard of the presence of another traveler in the vicinity, and the identity of this man he could not learn. The settlers who had mentioned him, however, declared they believed him to be a New York agent, or a spy from the British across the lake, who was going through the region to discover just how the people felt regarding the rising trouble between the Colonials and the mother country. Such, at least, had been the trend of his conversation with the loyal Americans to whom he had been unwise enough to speak.

The appearance of the man, too, rather troubled Enoch. He was said to be tall and lean, with a very black face, a huge nose and fiery eyes. The youth remembered how Simon Halpen looked a few weeks before when he saw him at Westminster, and this pretty well described the scoundrel. Halpen was in the Grants—or had been recently. Perhaps he had dared come across the mountains toward the lake on some errand for the Tory party, and the thought that the man who had murdered his father and who had tried to take his own life, might be within rifle shot, troubled the youth exceedingly. He could not drive away this thought and when finally he was forced to stop for rest he trembled to think that perhaps the light of his campfire would attract an enemy more to be feared than either the wolves or catamounts.

But he built his fire, broiled a piece of meat which the last settler he spoke to had given him, ate his supper, and then prepared to sleep for a few hours. The moon would rise late, and he desired to set forward on his journey again as soon as it was light enough in the forest. Just at present the darkness shrouded all objects. But when he lay down with his feet toward the blaze and his head upon a heap of moss for a pillow, he could not sleep, tired though he was. His nerves were all alive. His limbs twitched so that he could not keep them still. Every sound of the forest smote upon his ear with insistence. Although his muscles were wearied his eyes would not close.

Who was the Yorker that had crossed his path so many times during the past few hours? What did he desire here in the Otter country? Was he a spy for the British? or was he upon his own business? And, above all, was he, Nuck Harding, in danger? The stranger might be roaming the forest even then, hunting for the messenger of the Green Mountain chieftain. He had likely heard that Nuck was going from farmer to farmer, as Nuck had heard of his presence, and the man might contemplate stopping him. It would be easy for him to creep upon and shoot the defenseless youth as he lay before the fire.

Nuck's only weapons were his knife and the hatchet stuck in his belt. Lying there within the circle of light cast by the flames he would be an easy mark for any enemy. As minute after minute passed it seemed utterly impossible for him to quench this fear and he finally rose to his feet and got out of the fire light. He stood in the deep shadow of a tree trunk and cast searching glances around the tiny clearing in which he had established his camp. Not a living thing did he observe.

But if there was an enemy on his trail, and he should come near the camp and see it deserted he would suspect a trap at once. Either he would circle about so as to finally find Enoch, or he would fly from the ambush at once. "I expect I am very foolish,—losing good sleep that I need, too!" muttered the young fellow. "But still——"

He could not explain the strange unrest that possessed him. He was not of a particularly nervous temperament; therefore his present mood troubled him the more. There was danger menacing him; he felt it, if he could not see nor understand it. The only possibility of peril which reason suggested was through the agency of that stranger. "I must have things here so that he will not suspect that I am on my guard," the youth muttered.

Forthwith he dragged a piece of a broken tree-trunk to the fire, wrapped his coat about it and placed his cap at the end of the stick farthest from the blaze. He was careful to place the rude dummy far enough away from the fire so that its flickering light should not be cast upon it too strongly. It really looked, when he was through, as though some person lay there asleep. He did not feed the flames too generously, but left burning some hardwood sticks, the glowing coals of which would lend but little light to the scene. Then he retired again to the shadow of the tree where, crouching between two huge exposed roots, he waited with sleepless eyes for that which was, perhaps, merely the phantom of his fears.



CHAPTER XIX

THE RISING OF THE CLANS

As still as the shadow of the tree itself, Enoch lay with his face toward the camp. Truly, had the forest not been so dark outside the radiance of the fire, he would have set out again upon his journey, and left this spot which seemed to his troubled mind the lurking place of some serious danger. The minutes grew to an hour, however, without a suspicious sound reaching his ears. The usual noises of the forest—the hooting of the owl, the wolf's cry, the whimper of the wild-cat—were all that disturbed the repose of the wilderness.

But suddenly a dry twig snapped somewhere near him. The sound went through the anxious youth like a shock of electricity. Its direction he could not fathom; yet he was sure that the branch had crackled under the pressure of a foot. Somebody—or something—was approaching his fire, which now threw a dull red light across the forest glade. Enoch's eyes were fastened first upon one blot of shadow and then another. Occasionally, too, he darted a glance over his shoulder, that the approaching enemy might not come upon him unawares. Just at that time Enoch would have given much for his rifle. Its presence would have inspired him with a deal of courage. The very fact that the danger, which intuition rather than reason assured him was threatening, came from an unknown source, increased his fears. Perhaps Simon Halpen was not within a hundred miles of that identical spot. He who was visiting the Tories and New York sympathizers of this region was possibly nothing worse than the agent of a land speculator. The youthful Green Mountain Boy might be the only human being within five miles.

But suddenly that happened which shattered this fallacious web of thought in an instant. In the deep shadow of a thick clump of brush upon the other side of the fire, the youth observed a movement—rather, a flash or glint of light. The fire, increasing unexpectedly by the falling apart of one of the logs, had sent a penetrating ray of light into the thicket and there it glittered upon some polished piece of metal. Nothing else could have sent forth this answering gleam; it was not a pair of eyes; Enoch was confident of that.

"He is there!" whispered the youth, and he crouched lower between the roots. His eyes, sharp as they were, could not penetrate the gloom of the brush clump, and the glittering metal had now disappeared. But he was sure that the intruder was still there, reconnoitering the camp. Would he suspect the ruse? Would he observe that the body lying by the fire was simply a dummy? The youth was glad to see that the log with his jacket and cap upon it lay almost entirely in the shadow and that one coat-sleeve was stretched out upon the ground in a very natural manner indeed.

The moments that passed then were really terrible to young Harding. He knew himself to be in no immediate danger from this mysterious individual who had crept near his camp. Surely, the man could not see him where he lay shrouded in the darkness. Yet the thought that he was being dogged by a deadly enemy possessed him, and the doubt as to what the unknown would do next, brought the sweat to his brow and limbs and set him trembling like one with an ague. Not a breath disturbed the bushes, yet he felt that the man was there—there across the opening in the forest with his eyes fixed upon the supine figure near the fire. Had he not been warned by that mysterious feeling which had kept his eyes open and his nerves alert he, Enoch Harding, might now be lying unconscious with a deadly weapon trained upon him!

And then the shot was fired! Enoch expected it, yet the explosion almost betrayed him to the enemy. A gasp of terror left his lips. Incidental with the explosion he heard the thud of the ball as it penetrated the log, and the shock of the impact actually stirred the dummy. It leaped upon the uneven ground!

This fact was an awful accessory to the attempted murder. The inanimate object had moved as a human being would if suddenly shot through a vital part. Perhaps the very gasp of horror Enoch had uttered reached the ears of him who had fired from ambush. At least the enemy did not seek to come nearer. Indeed, the youth heard a crash in the brush and then the retreat of rapid footsteps. Having done, as he supposed, the awful deed, the murderer fled from the spot. Enoch had half risen to his feet. Now he sank upon his knees, clasped his hands, and thanked God for his preservation.

But he did not leave the sanctuary of the forest's shadow until he was fully convinced that the villain who had made the attempt upon his life was far away. Then, still shaking from the nervous terror inspired by the incident, he crept to the dying fire, secured his cap and coat, and went back to the roots of the tree again until the growing glow above the tree-tops announced the rising of the moon. The sky grew bright rapidly and soon the moonbeams wandered among the straight, handsome trees and lay calmly upon the earth. He could once more see objects about him with almost the clearness of full daylight.

Enoch arose and crossed to the clump of brush from which the treacherous shot had been fired. Through a break in the branches a flood of moonlight now silvered the earth at this point. He dropped upon one knee and examined the ground closely. There were the marks of the feet of him who had tried to shoot a helpless and sleeping human being. Enoch shuddered and placed his fingers in the impression of the moccasins. The incident that had just transpired was very real to him now.

But he had not come here merely to assure himself of this fact. The bullet in the log and the hole through his coat were sufficient, if he had indeed doubted his eyes and ears before. He glanced down at the coat. Oddly enough the bullet had torn its way through the stout homespun directly over his heart!

He glanced keenly now from side to side and saw that the enemy who made the treacherous attack had come from the trail he had followed that afternoon, and had returned in the same direction. He followed the footsteps which led away from the brush clump. In doing this he was quickly assured that the man who had shot at him was a white man. An Indian walks with his toes pointed inward; this individual, even as he ran, pointed his toes out. He was certain, therefore, that his enemy was no wandering redskin.

"It was Halpen—I am sure of it!" muttered the youth, striking into the trail at last and continuing the journey upon which the darkness had overtaken him. "He believes that he has killed me. I only hope he will not be undeceived. But if he is ever in my power he shall suffer! What a villain the man is to follow our family and seek to murder and injure us! Oh, I hope this war which Colonel Allen says is surely beginning, will give us folks of the Grants our freedom from New York as well as from England. I fear men like Halpen more than I do the soldiers of the King."

Although he had not slept, Enoch was rested in body and he traveled quite rapidly. Before dawn he had aroused two settlers from their slumbers, delivered Colonel Allen's message, and gone on his way. He observed no signs of his enemy of the night and was confident that the man had not continued on this trail, and was not, therefore, ahead of him. But he determined not to sleep in the forest during the remainder of his journey. He spent the day in alarming the farmers, circling around into the mountains before night and stopping at last with a distant pioneer who, with his two grown sons, promised to go back with him to the rendezvous of Allen's army at Castleton in the morning.

Enoch's mind was burdened with the mystery of Halpen's presence in the Grants at this time, however. Surely the Yorker could not be upon private business. He must have a mission from either the land speculators, the New York authorities, or from those even higher. The plans of the Colonials to attack Old Ti and seize the munitions of war stored there, might have been whispered in the ears of the British commander, De la Place. Perhaps he had sent this man, who knew the territory so well, to spy upon the Green Mountain Boys and their friends. Simon Halpen could do the cause afoot much harm by returning swiftly to the lake and warning the commander of Fort Ticonderoga. Enoch believed Colonel Allen should know of Halpen's presence as soon as possible; and he was determined to return at once, although he certainly deserved rest and refreshment after his arduous journey through the wilderness. Therefore he urged the hurried departure of these three pioneers and before dawn the quartette started for Castleton.

Meanwhile, at the camp of the Green Mountain Boys much was transpiring of importance to the expedition. The honor of capturing Ticonderoga history gives unconditionally to Ethan Allen and his handful of followers; but the suggestion and preparations for the momentous task was divided between the Colonies of Connecticut, Massachusetts, and the Hampshire Grants, or Vermont, as it was now beginning to be called. In April the authorities of Connecticut raised three hundred pounds for the expense of this expedition and Samuel H. Parsons, Silas Deane (afterward one of America's representatives in Paris, but an arch enemy of Washington) and Benedict Arnold, raised a handful of troops to send north as a nucleus of that army which was expected to fall upon one of the strongest British forts in the country.

At Pittsfield, in western Massachusetts, Colonel Easton had recruited a larger band of earnest patriots, and these, joined with the company from the more southern colony, made a very respectable force to march through the country to Bennington, where they arrived on May third. In the meantime at Albany Messrs. Halsey and Stephens had been pleading with the New York Congress to grant permission for troops to be raised for, and money devoted to, the capture of the same fortresses as the New England leaders had in mind. But, as we have seen, New York was at that time lukewarm in the uprising of the colonies. Beside, the Continental Congress was to meet in seven days and it was judged better by the cautious Yorkers to wait and see what that body of representatives would do before any direct act of war was indulged in. Therefore New York lost her opportunity of joining in one of the most glorious campaigns of the entire Revolutionary period.

The Committee of Safety in Massachusetts, on the other hand, had decided to act against Old Ti. Benedict Arnold, after stirring up the people to fever pitch in his own colony, Connecticut, went post-haste to Cambridge and demanded a commission and authority to raise and lead the troops against the Champlain forts. This first move of this much-hated man in the Revolution savored of intrigue and self-seeking—as did most of his other public acts. He desired the honor of commanding this expedition, and he was personally courageous enough to march up to the mouths of Old Ti's guns if need be; but he had no personal following and could not hope to recruit men himself for the expedition. Nevertheless, he proposed to have the backing of a regular commission from the Massachusetts committee and thus supersede Colonel Easton. This desire on his part might have become a fact had it not been for one person whom Benedict Arnold did not take into consideration.

The Massachusetts and Connecticut forces were guided to the camp of the Green Mountain Boys while the leaders held a conference at the Catamount Inn in Bennington. Colonel Easton was a truly brave man, and as such was not disturbed by petty jealousy. It was left to fate to decide who should command the expedition, and Ethan Allen having the largest personal following, was acclaimed commander. Greatly to Captain—now Major—Warner's disappointment his own men did not number as many as the Massachusetts troops; but he gracefully yielded second place to Easton and accepted third himself. Plans for the march through the wilderness were then carefully discussed and the leaders rode to Castleton and reviewed the raw recruits whose valor was, at a later day, to be so noised abroad.

The Green Mountain Boys, after four years of training, presented much the better appearance. And every man was practically a sharpshooter. What their rifles and muskets could do against the thick, if crumbling, walls of Ticonderoga, might with good judgment be asked; but they lacked neither courage nor faith in their leader. They would have followed Ethan Allen through a wall of fire if need be to the line of the British fortifications. In their eyes he was invincible.

On the morning of the start from Castleton the army was paraded—a few hundred meagrely armed men to march against a fortress, to capture which had cost the British two expensive campaigns and the loss of some three thousand men. Their leaders harangued them, and Ethan Allen's promises of glory and honor inspired quite as much enthusiasm as the commander of any expedition could have wished. There had gathered to observe the departure many gentlemen of the countryside, and not a few of those individuals who, at a time like this, always occupy a prominent position "on the fence"—that is, they having not yet decided which cause to espouse, waited to see whether the King's troops or the earnest patriots would win.

Among these spectators was a well set up man of military bearing, indeed garbed in a military coat, with a cockade in his hat and his hair carefully dressed. He was quite a dandy, or a "macoroni" as the exquisites of that day were called both in London and in the Colonies. His dark visage and hawk-like eye commanded more than a passing glance from all and when, just before the troops started, he was observed to walk across the parade and calmly approach the group of officers standing at one side, all eyes became fixed upon him.

"Who is that haughty looking man yonder?" asked one spectator of his neighbor who happened to be better informed than his friend, "and what does he here?"

"What he does here I know not," declared the individual thus addressed, "but his name I can tell you, having seen him in Hartford on several occasions. It is Benedict Arnold, a name quite well known—and not altogether honorably—in that part of Connecticut."



CHAPTER XX

THE RIVAL COMMANDERS

At this time Benedict Arnold was thirty-five years of age, a restless, ambitious man who had sought frequently for an opportunity to distinguish himself in life, but who had never been willing to pay the world's price for real success. He looked for a short-cut to power and fortune, and because of his impatience of restraint and the small chances of promotion, he had once deserted from the British army. When the Revolution broke out he was living in Hartford, Connecticut, where his business was that of druggist, and where his reputation was not of the most savory among the more respectable merchants of the town. His character, however, contained those elements of recklessness and personal daring which stand for bravery with many people, and he was something of a hero in the eyes of his thoughtless associates.

It seemed a peculiar fatality that both Arnold and Allen, coming from the same colony, should go to Bennington and be thrown together at just this time. It was a great moment in Ethan Allen's life; the time was likewise pregnant with the elements which so influenced the after existence of Benedict Arnold. Ethan Allen's mind was filled with a desire to help the Grants, and despite the military glory he craved, he entered into the scheme for the capture of Ticonderoga with a real hope of assisting the patriot cause. He was, indeed, a patriot from the bottom, ready to sacrifice his own interests as well as his life for the general good. Arnold saw in this rising of his fellow-Americans the long sought chance to distinguish himself and gain that power and influence which his nature craved. He saw in the proposed expedition to Ticonderoga a quick road to prominence. For him to see this chance was to grasp it.

Having no following of his own he planned to seize the troops gathered at Castleton and thus have his name go before the Continental Congress as the leader of the expedition. If it was successful the honor would be his; if it failed, his name would be quite as prominent and the affair might gain him advancement which he could hope for in no other way. He had no thought nor care for the men who, after weeks of toilsome effort, had gathered the little army together. Their feelings in the matter, or their standing with their followers, did not enter into his calculations.

That, indeed, was the secret of Benedict Arnold's life. He never thought of others. He was ever for self. As a boy we read that he was cruel to those smaller and weaker than himself, being the "bully" of the school and of the town in which he lived. He was ever utterly reckless of his reputation and his greatest pleasure seemed to be found in some form of malicious mischief. Personally, however, he did not lack boldness and physical courage. It is told of him that, being dared by other boys, he once seized the arms of a waterwheel and followed its revolutions half a dozen times, being completely submerged in the millrace at every turn. The danger to a handful of illy-armed troops attacking a fortress like Ticonderoga appealed strongly to the man's reckless daring.

Although Allen and Warner came from the same colony as the newcomer, neither knew nor recognized Arnold as he approached the group of officers at this important moment. But Arnold was not a man who could be for long ignored. His military bearing, his dress, and the hauteur of his countenance attracted the attention of the three leaders. "Sir," said Allen, courteously, "you evidently have some communication to make to us?"

"I have, sir," replied Arnold, calmly. "But not having the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with you——"

"I am Colonel Allen, commander of this expedition," interrupted the other, brusquely. "This is Colonel Easton; this Major Warner. What is your desire?"

"I am Colonel Benedict Arnold," said the newly arrived officer, "and bear a commission from the Massachusetts Committee of Safety with authority to take command of the troops here gathered, or which shall be gathered, and proceed against Forts Ticonderoga and Crown Point," and he drew the commission from his pocket and presented it to the company.

Allen's ruddy face paled for an instant and his eyes flashed. "Do I understand you aright?" he exclaimed, and his voice was sharp enough to be heard by many of the troops near by. "You have come to take command of these men?" and his gesture took in the lines of waiting patriots.

"I have, sir. There is my commission."

Allen's wrath got the better of his politeness and he struck the offending paper from Arnold's hand. Warner stooped hastily and secured it. He and Easton examined the document with angry scrutiny. Both had given way with cheerfulness to Ethan Allen's superiority in the matter; but this affront was personal to them as well as to their beloved leader. Allen, with his arms akimbo and fire flashing from his eyes faced the suave and cold intruder. "Sir!" he exclaimed, "I do not care to see your commission, nor do I acknowledge your authority. I bear a commission from a higher court and recognize an authority higher still."

"What do you mean, Colonel Allen?" demanded Arnold, for the moment fearing that the Green Mountain leader had indeed received some appointment from the Continental Congress, perhaps, which would invalidate his own.

"I mean, sir, that my authority is based upon some slight precedence in this matter—a prior claim which dates back some years now, Colonel Arnold. I have led some of these men in defending their homes on more than one occasion and by their free act of will they have made me their leader now."

"Your commission, sir? Where is it?" inquired Arnold, cool again, upon finding that his antagonist's rights were based upon a matter of sentiment.

"It is there, sir!" cried Allen, furiously, turning and pointing to the lines of waiting men. "It is there, sir,—writ on the hearts of those Green Mountain Boys. And a higher commission than any Committee of Safety can seal."

The words were heard by the files of waiting troops and already they had begun to murmur. That their beloved leader should be displaced by any person—no matter how high his office—was more than distasteful to them. At once they were in revolt.

"Ethan Allen forever!" arose the cry. "We'll not march without he commands us!" and more than one threw down his arms. Arnold found himself facing the possibility of marching upon Ticonderoga alone, for the mutiny seemed general.

"Sir, sir!" exclaimed Warner, in anxiety, addressing Arnold. "You see the feeling of these true-hearted men. No person can come here and take command of them in this way. We are not regular troops. We are banded together for the good of all, but we do not yet acknowledge the authority of a sister colony. We desire to be a commonwealth of our own here in the Grants and have already been disturbed enough by usurpers from outside. Reconsider this, I beg of you. For if you persevere the expedition must fail and that which might result in great good to our struggling brethren, will end in harm because of this folly."

Arnold, if ambitious and unfeeling, already saw that he was beaten. He was not obstinate enough to do that which would be sure to redound to his own hurt and discredit. He had not expected such opposition, for he did not know the veneration in which the Green Mountain Boys held Ethan Allen. Now, seeing himself undone, he did that which for the time endeared him to all. His countenance cleared; a frank emotion played upon his features and advancing a step toward Ethan Allen he said in a clarion voice, heard by all:

"Colonel Allen, you have precedence here after all. I was mistaken in my premises. Give me a musket and let me march in the ranks. I shall be proud to be led by so gallant a commander."

Instantly a volley of cheers broke out among the soldiery, and Allen who, above all men, could appreciate such generosity, offered his hand cordially. "Egad, sir!" he cried, "you are a man after my own heart. When there are so many jealous cattle running about the woods, it is a pleasure to meet with a man. Give me your hand, Colonel Arnold! There is glory enough in this campaign for all, and you shall share the command with me, if you will."

He turned then to his followers. "Men of the Green Mountains!" he cried, "we are to march at once. Fall in! And with your courage and the help of Jehovah we shall succeed in our undertaking. To your places, gentlemen," to the minor officers, "and Colonel Arnold and I will lead you."

Amid cheers the column moved forward into the forest and took up its line of march toward the shore of Lake Champlain. Never had the Green Mountain wilderness echoed to the tread of such a body of men. And they were worth more than a passing glance for they represented the spirit which made the American Revolution one of the greatest struggles of the ages. Like the campaigns of Joshua of old, the battles of the American yeoman with the trained military of King George proved that, when guided by the God of Battles, the weak can overcome the strong. These men, fighting for their homes and firesides, were inspired with a confidence that overcame even impossibilities. They possessed a faith in their cause and in their leader like that which threw down the walls of Jericho and defeated the allied armies of Canaan.

Even had De la Place and his garrison been informed of their approach, and of their numbers, he would doubtless have laughed at the possibility of their successfully attacking his fortress. And one there was among the Green Mountain Boys who feared that news of the expedition had already gone to the British commander. Upon his return from the Otter, Enoch Harding had sought and obtained an audience with Colonel Allen, and to him had related his adventure with the Yorker whom he believed to be his deadly enemy, and told his suspicions regarding the man's business in the region. But Ethan Allen was not to be shaken in his confidence, or in his intentions.

"I have an honest man at Ticonderoga now, Master Harding," he said. "If spies were through the country we should hear of them from other sources. But you did right to come to me with this, and if Simon Halpen falls into our hands I will hang him for his past offenses, if not for this attempt on your life."

The appearance of the American troops was welcomed along the route with acclamation. Many settlers, knowing the course the army would take, had waited to join it as it passed their own doors. Shopkeepers and mechanics left their work and fell into the ranks; the farmer left his plow in the furrow, seized his rifle, and joined his neighbors; a woodsman who was "letting sunlight" into the gloom of the virgin forest, hid his axe under a fallen log and with a deadlier weapon on his shoulder followed in the train; the hunter on the trail of the frightened buck saw the column coming through the forest road and allowed his prey to escape while he turned his attention to matters of graver moment. Thus the army of Americans was swelled from hour to hour by new recruits.

To camp at night was a small matter to these hardy pioneers. The scouts sent out upon either flank acted as hunters and fresh meat was abundant. Besides, every man was fairly supplied with provisions brought from Castleton. Inspired by the energy of Ethan Allen the column rapidly approached the shore of the lake. While some miles away, however, the group of officers riding ahead of the main body, suddenly descried a tall woodsman striding through the forest toward them. "Who is this chap, Major?" demanded Allen of his friend Warner. "Had I not sent 'Siah Bolderwood to watch Old Ti like a cat at a rathole, I'd declare this to be he."

"And so it is, Colonel!" returned the other. "Something of moment must have sent our lengthy friend this way, for he is a man who knows how to obey orders," and he spurred forward to meet the footman.

"Wall, Captain," was 'Siah's greeting, squinting around the horseman at the long column of marching men, "you look like you had a slather of folks yonder. I guess there'll be something in the wind around Old Ti 'fore long, hey?"

"And how is it you are not there, Bolderwood?" demanded Warner.

"Wall, I got an idee into my noddle an' leavin' Smith and Brown to watch Old Ti, for it might run away 'fore ye git there, ye know, I trotted down this way ter see the Colonel. Ev'rything is safe there so fur, but there's one thing we've neglected."

"What is that, Bolderwood?" cried Allen, riding up and hearing this last sentence.

"Why, Colonel, although I count you as purty near ekal to 'most anything, an' them fellers behind ye seemed armed to deal with any foe, still I calkerlate you ain't expectin' ol' Champlain ter open for ye to pass over dry shod, hey?"

Allen smote his thigh with his gauntleted hand and the expression on his face changed. "Right, 'Siah! I can't forgive myself for my thoughtlessness. We must have boats—and plenty of them—to cross to the fort."

"That's what struck me last night, Colonel. So I left the others ter watch the fort—an' a sarpint that wriggled into aour han's yesterday—and come kitin' down here for orders."

"A serpent, 'Siah?" said Warner. "Who is it?"

"One o' them Yorkers, an' one that I've not had my eyes on—let alone my hands—for a good many months. An' I see a chap behind you there that'll be some interested in meeting the rascal, too."

'Siah had looked past the officers and, in the very front rank, caught sight of his young friend Enoch. The latter waved his hand to the tall woodsman and Bolderwood, knowing that discipline was lax on the march, beckoned Enoch forward. "Come here, youngster, and hear what news I've got for ye," he cried. But Allen caught at the matter instantly, and understood to whom Bolderwood referred by his appellation of "the serpent."

"You mean to say you've got Simon Halpen?" he asked.

"That's the identical sarpint, Colonel," declared the ranger. "We caught him tryin' ter cross to Old Ti and thought it was best, under the sarcumstances, ter keep him close till this leetle business is over. What he was doin' riskin' his carcass on this side of the line is more'n I can tell——"

"The boy was right, Major!" exclaimed Allen, turning to Warner. "Harding met the fellow while he was stirring up our folks in the Otter country last week. He thought he was up to some rascality then, and the fellow did try to take his life."

"Tried it again, did he?" cried 'Siah, as Enoch approached. "Is that so, Nuck?"

Enoch repeated his adventure with the murderous Halpen. "If I'd knowed this," the ranger declared, "I'd saved the grub the scoundrel is eating."

"We'll make an example of him when we reach the lake, 'Siah," declared the leader of the Green Mountain Boys. "But now for this other matter. It is most important. Every bateau within reach must be secured."

"I know where there are three of 'em. And there may be others down the lake furder."

"You shall have charge of this, Bolderwood!" the commander cried. "I make you our captain of scouts. Take any reasonable number of men with you and hurry ahead. Every moment is precious."

"Good!" said the ranger. "With Smith and Brown I won't need but eight or ten more. And I'll begin by taking young Nuck here. He's a good oar."

"Take whom you wish. We depend on you," replied Allen, and within the hour the ranger and his party, including Enoch Harding, set off on their mission ahead of the more slowly moving army.



CHAPTER XXI

THE ESCAPE OF THE SPY

In sixteen hours 'Siah Bolderwood had traveled from his camp on the shore of Lake Champlain opposite the frowning walls of Fort Ticonderoga; when the long ranger was in a hurry he did not spare himself. Perhaps no other man in the Vermont wilderness could have covered so much ground afoot as he, within the time. But he set off now on his return journey, with nearly a dozen men at his heels, as fresh as though he had rested for a night instead of for an hour. His muscles were seemingly of steel and his limbs of iron. He led at such a pace that Enoch Harding, who came first behind him, could scarcely keep up with his stride and place his feet, Indian fashion, in the prints of his friend's moccasins.

The company of scouts traveled in single file and, having no need to follow the wood-road on which the army was marching, they soon left that out of view. 'Siah found an Indian path which suited him far better than the broader trail, for it would bring them much sooner to the lake, and for hour after hour he strode on with scarce a look behind him to see how his companions kept up. The men he had chosen, save Enoch, were tried and trained woodsmen, with powers of endurance second only to his own. And as for the lad whom he loved, he knew his high spirit and pride. Enoch Harding would not fall behind until the last ounce of his strength had been expended.

Finally the party reached a little stream and here the leader gave the signal to halt. Enoch flung himself down on the short sward and fell asleep almost instantly. 'Siah looked down upon him in some pride. "That's the stuff we make men of in this country," he said aloud. "I knew his father as well as I know myself. The lad will be another Jonas Harding."

"He'll hold us back if we've to keep up this pace, 'Siah," said one of the others, doubtfully.

"Nay, you're mistaken there, neighbor. You and I will travel until we feel that it ain't best for us to go any furder. Enoch'll keep up till he drops. He won't hold us back."

And it was true. Others of the party cried "enough!" before the afternoon was over; but the youth, his lips pale and compressed and the perspiration fairly pouring from his limbs, would have died before he acknowledged that the pace was too great for him. At night 'Siah called another halt and they ate heartily of such provisions as they carried and then lay down to rest. But 'Siah arranged for a guard. They were nearing the lake now and some ill-affected settler (there were several families of Tories near Champlain) might see them and wonder what such a large party of armed men was doing here. If the news of the approach of the main army did not travel ahead, it would be more because of good fortune than good management.

The party broke up into groups of two and three in the morning and went different ways to the shore. It was agreed that, where the settlers who owned boats were known to be staunch Whigs, it would be safe to tell them for what purpose their crafts were needed. But several boats were owned by Tories and royalist sympathizers and these people must be deceived for, although the scouts were doubtless well armed and determined enough to take the boats without saying "by your leave," such a proceeding might be disastrous to the expedition.

'Siah Bolderwood chose Enoch as his companion and went himself toward the home of a farmer who stoutly upheld the King and his ministers and who had, in fact, held the title of his land from New York through all the years of trouble between his neighbors and the Albany courts. His homestead, however, was in such an out-of-the-way place and so secluded that the Green Mountain Boys had left him unmolested. Now Bolderwood was determined to have the roomy canoe and a large bateau which he was known to possess.

"But if the pesky critter gits an inkling of what we're up to, he'll start for Old Ti—that he will!" the ranger said to Enoch. "We gotter get around him somehow. An' you leave it ter me. Ye better keep aout o' sight, I reckon, anyway; numbers might make the ol' codger suspicious."

So Enoch hid in the wood surrounding the clearing on the lake shore while his tall friend went toward the Tory's door. The old man, who depended upon his nephew and a slave or two to do his work, was sitting looking out across the lake. He was too far away to distinguish the battlements of Ticonderoga, but he happened to be looking in that direction when Bolderwood presented himself. "Neighbor!" said the latter, in a most friendly tone, "ye look hearty. What's the news?"

"Humph!" grunted the old man, staring at the Yankee shrewdly, "you're the feller that's been clearin' land above us yander, ain't ye?"

"That I can't deny, sir," responded the ranger. "An' jest for the sake o' bein' neighborly, I'm down here ter arsk a favor."

"What is it?" grunted the old man, doubtfully.

"Why, my partner an' me have got a job to do, an' we're wantin' ter borry one or both o' your boats," and he pointed down to the water where, at the end of a little dock, the big flatboat and a long canoe were both moored. The old man could not see the boats without rising, but this he did as though to make sure that they were in their places. "What ye want 'em for?" he asked. "An' howsumever, I can't lend ye more than one o' them. We might want the other ourselves."

"What for?" asked Bolderwood, with the usual freedom of the community, and likewise proving himself a true Yankee by responding to one question with another.

"Might wanter go acrosst," said the farmer. "They say there's goin' ter be a lot o' reinforcements come up to Old Ti an' my nevvy and I want to see 'em when they come."

"That's what we're wantin' the boats for—to go acrosst to the fort," said 'Siah, with apparent frankness. "We've got some things to take over an' it's too fur to swim."

"I sh'd say it was!" exclaimed the Tory. "Then I take it the report that reinforcements air comin' is true? Captain De la Place is buyin' cattle to feed the garrison?"

"I reckon he'll need a good many to feed all that's comin'," returned Bolderwood, non-committingly.

"Wall, I can't lend ye both, sir," declared the old man. "The canoe wouldn't do ye much good, though 'tis a master big one. Seems ter me there's a good deal o' boatin' on the lake to-day. I seen two barges go along north a'ready. Folks goin' fishin' I s'pose."

"Like enough—like enough," declared 'Siah hastily. "I'll git right down and take the bateau."

"Ain't ye got no one ter help ye?"

"I'll find my partner somewhere up the lake. He was lookin' for boats, too," returned the ranger.

He started to descend the bank and the old farmer arose and hobbled after him. The instant he reached the brink where he could again see his little dock, he gave voice to an exclamation of disgust and anger. "There it be! That Pomp is the most no 'count critter that ever eat smoked hog. He was a usin' that canoe this mornin', an' now look at it!"

Seemingly the big canoe had slipped her moorings and was floating rapidly around the wooded point near the dock. 'Siah might have been astonished a little himself had he not had sharper eyes than the Tory. He saw that several articles of apparel lay in the canoe and he recognized Enoch Harding's old otter-skin cap. "Hold on, sir!" he cried. "No matter about calling your hands from the field to git it. I'll have that canoe in a jiffy."

He ran down the steep bank, unfastened the bateau, and with a powerful shove sent it out into the lake. There were two long sweeps aboard and with one of these 'Siah quickly propelled the heavy craft in the same direction as the canoe—down the lake. The latter craft was scarcely out of sight of the old man when the bateau came along side. There was nothing showing of the swimmer but his head and one hand which clutched the painter.

"Come aboard here, ye young rascal!" exclaimed the woodsman, with a chuckle. "You'll have that whole spatter of Tories arter us. Couldn't you hide your clothes better 'n that? Might have left 'em ashore. If the old gentleman hadn't been blinder'n a bat at midday, he'd seen 'em."

"I didn't think of that," Enoch admitted, rather ruefully, climbing over the bow of the canoe and then passing the thong to 'Siah, who fastened it to the stern of the bateau. "I heard him say you couldn't have both, and I thought it too bad. This canoe will hold a dozen men."

"Wall, grab that sweep. Never mind your clothes just now. I warrant ye'll keep warm enough till we git to the camp."

The newly made captain of scouts and his young companion were by no means the first to reach the rendezvous on the shore opposite Ticonderoga. Nor is it to be supposed that the boats being there collected were brought boldly up in daylight. They were hidden in little coves near by, which could be reached by the scouts without attracting attention from the fort, to be brought after dark to the landing from which Ethan Allen expected to embark his troops. There were but two craft moored opposite the camp which Bolderwood and his companions had occupied for more than a week. Bolderwood held the title of a long strip of land along the lake shore, but he had never built a cabin. A shack, or hut, of branches was all the shelter the trio enjoyed.

Here the ranger and Enoch found several of their friends beside Smith and Brown in waiting. The shore of the lake on this side had been fairly scoured for bateaus. They dared not cross to the New York side to obtain boats, for by so doing they would be sure to excite suspicion. With those already obtained and some which their companions were now gone for, the expedition must be content. The one mistake of their bold leader might bring about failure to the enterprise; yet so confident were they in Ethan Allen's ability that they firmly believed he would find some way to overcome the lack of transportation. The forced march of the scouts the day before, and for a good share of the night as well, had brought them to the lake long before the expedition itself could possibly reach the landing. Besides, the leaders would hold back until after dark. The attack upon the fortress must be accomplished under the cover of night. Bolderwood hoped, when he saw the meagre provision he was able to make for transportation, that the army would arrive early enough to allow of two, and even three, voyages to be made from shore to shore, that the entire force might take part in the attack.

To Enoch, however, there was another matter of grave interest to be attended to when he and his tall friend arrived at the temporary camp. He wished to see the spy whom Bolderwood had mentioned to Ethan Allen. The ranger, too, looked sharply about the camp for the man. "Where's that slippery critter we captured the other night?" he asked. "If he gits away before Colonel Allen comes there'll be trouble for some of us."

"We'd better have hung him up and so saved his food," grunted Brown, who, because the Yorkers had burned his house and driven his wife and children into the forest, had no love for anybody from the west side of the lake.

"You haven't let him go?" demanded Bolderwood.

"Nay, 'Siah. He's safe enough," returned Smith. "He's yonder behind the camp. He'd be an eel or a sarpint to wriggle out of them thongs."

"A sarpint he is," declared Bolderwood, and strode away to look at the prisoner. Enoch followed him. There, sitting with his back against a tree, his ankles fastened together and a strong deer thong wrapped about his body and about the tree itself, was Simon Halpen. When he saw the ranger he scowled. When he observed the boy, however, his eyes flashed and the blood rushed to his face. "I reckon he knows ye, Nuck," said the ranger.

"What are you going to do with me?" demanded the Yorker, with bravado. "You'll all suffer for this outrage, I promise ye! Wait until I get to Albany——"

"And you ever see Albany again you're a lucky man," said Bolderwood, satisfying himself that the bonds were tight. "The Colonel will see to ye, my fine bird."

Enoch still remained before his enemy when the ranger went back to the camp. The villain returned his glance boldly. "You are satisfied now, I suppose?" he muttered.

"Not yet," replied young Harding.

"I shall be avenged!" declared Halpen, with a burst of wrath. "If I am injured I have powerful friends who will punish you. I care nothing for Ethan Allen——"

"A power higher than Colonel Allen will punish you," Enoch said, gravely.

"Pooh! I care nothing for your Whig courts. You had best do what you can for me, Master Harding."

"I will leave you to the punishment you deserve. And you will receive it."

"What have I done, I'd like to know?" exclaimed the prisoner. "It was not my fault that your house was burned and your mother and you placed in danger of your lives. It was a mistake."

"Was it a mistake when you crept to my camp the other night and fired at me as I lay sleeping beside the fire?" demanded the boy, sternly.

The red flush left the prisoner's cheek then. "What—what do you mean?" he gasped.

"You know well what I mean. See here!" Enoch showed him the hole in the breast of his coat. "That was made by your bullet."

"The boy's life is charmed!" muttered Halpen.

"You had much better have used your gun-stock, Master Halpen. You would have been surer to kill me then."

At this an expression of positive terror came into the prisoner's features. "I am not a murderer," he exclaimed. "You are mistaken if you think that I fired at you."

"It is true I cannot prove it," Enoch replied. "But something else I can prove." He advanced a step nearer to the man. "Do you remember where you hid the moose hoofs, Simon Halpen?"

The prisoner shrank back against the tree and his eyes fairly glared up at the youth. "You—you——" he gasped.

"Yes. They are found. We now know how my poor father was killed. And you were seen running from the place with his blood upon your clothes and upon your gun. Even your Albany courts would punish you for that!" Then the boy, unable to trust himself longer in the presence of the man who had so injured him, hastily left the spot.



And the prisoner—how did he feel while tied to that tree, waiting for the judgment which was to fall upon him for his crimes? No human being but the criminal himself can ever appreciate half the agony of the condemned. It was long since discovered that the gift of speech was given man to conceal his thoughts. To the man of strong will the face is a mask to conceal his feelings. And Simon Halpen was not a weakling. He may have betrayed some emotion when accused by Enoch; it was a small part only of what he felt.

He saw now, as plainly as he saw the lengthening shadows about him, that punishment for his crimes was near. These stern woodsmen, whose plan for attacking Ticonderoga he had discovered, were in no mood to trifle with him. And what Enoch had told him was an assurance that though he might live to be brought before a court of justice, he must stand trial for his crimes. Neither political influence nor his wealth could save him from the result of his offenses against the laws of man and God. He was made desperate by these thoughts.

He could see from his uncomfortable position the company of scouts busy with their supper. The ordinary observer would not have imagined that these men were the pioneers of two hundred and thirty Green Mountain Boys and the Massachusetts and Connecticut troops. But Halpen knew the army of Americans was coming, and the object of their approach. Unwarned, Captain De la Place and his garrison might be surprised and overwhelmed by these backwoodsmen. Halpen had no particular love for the King, nor for the royal government; but he hated these men who had defended their farms for so many years from the aggressions of his own party. Fear of punishment was reinforced by a desire to worst the Green Mountain Boys. He began to struggle against his bonds.

He had done that early in the day when he was first fastened to the tree; and the thongs had cut into his arms and breast. But now he felt these abrasions not at all. He was mad to be free, and free he would be! The scouts paid him no attention. The sun was set and the forest grew dark. Would he escape he must accomplish the matter soon, or likely Bolderwood or young Harding would come to examine him again, and then the chance would be past.

At last, his flesh cut so deeply that blood ran from arms and body, he stretched the hide rope until he was able to wriggle out of it. There were then his ankles to untie. This he did in a very few moments. He was free! Rising to his knees, his limbs were so paralyzed by inaction that he could not yet stand upright, he crept into the brush and, like the serpent that Bolderwood declared to be his prototype, glided away from the camp and down toward the brush-bordered shore of the lake.



CHAPTER XXII

THE END OF SIMON HALPEN

As they are to-day, the surroundings of Fort Ticonderoga were most picturesque. Nor is the country about the fortifications, and across the lake where the camp of Bolderwood's scouts was established at the time of our story, and later where the Grenadier Battery was raised, much more thickly settled to-day than it was then. Mt. Defiance, south of the Lake George outlet on the west side of Champlain was a heavily wooded eminence. Behind the scouts' camp a rugged shoulder of ground, later called Mount Independence, raised its bulk out of the surrounding forest. The formidable promontory on which the French had built Ticonderoga twenty years before, commanded a great sweep of the lake. For mere foot-soldiers, without artillery or explosives, to attack these fortifications seemed utterly preposterous.

Where Bolderwood and his companions were waiting they had an excellent view of the fort. At sunset the garrison was paraded and one gun boomed resonantly across the calm lake. Just before it became too dark to see the other shore, the Americans observed a man come out of the covered way by which the fortifications were entered and approach the shore. There was a light canoe moored there and into this he stepped and paddled out into the lake, evidently aiming his craft for a cove near the scouts' position. Bolderwood and his comrades were so deeply interested in the maneuvres of this man that Simon Halpen was for the time forgotten.

"We'll have to take that feller in and hold him for the Colonel to talk to," suggested one of the scouts when it became apparent that the stranger from the fort was coming ashore near at hand. "He'll see them boats an' suspicion something."

"We'll meet him," said Bolderwood; "but I'm reck'ning that he'll be as glad to see the Colonel as the Colonel is ter see him. I know that somebody was over there in the fort to find out how the land lies and what sort o' shape them red-coats is in, an' 'twouldn't s'prise me if this was the chap."

They all followed 'Siah down to the cove—even Enoch—and met the stranger as he came ashore. The latter seemed in nowise troubled by seeing so many armed men and after mooring his canoe came at once to the group of Americans. "Friends, I presume, sirs?" he asked, glancing keenly from man to man.

"Reckon so," admitted Bolderwood.

"Where is Colonel Allen?"

"If you don't mind waitin' with us I shouldn't be s'prised if ye see him 'fore long," declared the long-legged scout. "Wanter see him pertic'lar?"

"I do," the stranger admitted. "You are the advance guard of our boys, I presume?"

"Well, as you don't know us, an' we don't know you, we'd better not discuss private matters till we're interduced, as ye might say. I sh'dn't be astonished ter see the Colonel come along here 'most any time now."

"Very well, sir. I am at your service," was the response, and the newcomer walked back to the camp with them. But Enoch had gone on ahead, remembering that the captive had been left alone for nearly half an hour. Suddenly his voice rose in a shout of anger and surprise. "He has escaped!" cried Bolderwood, the instant he heard his young friend, and plunged at once into the wood toward the spot where Halpen had been tied. Truly, the spy was gone.

"The rascal was sharper than I thought," gasped the ranger. "And—and what will Colonel Allen say?"

"That isn't the worst of it," declared the youth.

"Yes; you think it is worse that a villain like him should escape without punishment. I doubt not that Ethan Allen would have hung him."

"He may have deserved hanging," Enoch returned, with a shudder. "But I am not thinking of that. I fear that he will yet do us harm. If he gets across the lake and warns the folks at Old Ti, I'll never forgive myself for not sitting down here and watching him all the time."

"He sartainly should have been watched," admitted 'Siah. "But I didn't b'lieve he had the pluck to git away. See here! The thongs are wet with the man's blood. He must ha' cut himself badly."

"We must find him, 'Siah! If he secures a boat and crosses the lake the expedition will be ruined. This man who has just come across declares Captain De la Place knows nothing about our army as yet. But if Simon Halpen reaches the fortifications——"

'Siah rushed back to his company and sent them to search the bank of the lake. He ordered, too, one man to remain with each group of boats so that the escaped spy might not secure one and get such a start across the lake that he could not be overtaken. But it had now grown quite dark and the scouts were unable to find Halpen in the vicinity of the camp. 'Siah was confident that he and his men had obtained every craft on this eastern shore for miles up and down the lake, so he did not believe Halpen could really get across to the fort in time to warn the garrison. He was naturally too tender-hearted to wish to see the fellow hung to the nearest tree, which might be his fate had Ethan Allen examined him and found him guilty of spying upon the patriotic settlers.

Now that night had come and the darkness would have covered the movements of the American troops, as the head of the column did not appear, Bolderwood and his comrades began to fear that something had detained their friends and that the attack upon Ticonderoga might be postponed until the night of the tenth. How the fleet of bateaus and canoes could be held in the vicinity for many hours without suspicions being aroused as to their proposed use, was a question hard to answer. The captain of the scouts sent two of his men out upon the trail by which they expected Ethan Allen and the troops under him to advance.

Meanwhile Enoch Harding had not given up the search for the escaped spy. He feared what the fellow might yet do to weaken or utterly ruin the hopes of the American troops. Halpen was not armed, so the youth had no fear of being attacked by him; but he spent his time creeping through the brushwood up and down the lake shore, hoping to stumble upon the Yorker. He did not believe that Halpen had gone far from the encampment. Finally, in his wanderings, he came to the cove where the scout who had spent the day inside the fort, had landed. The bateaus were on the other side of the cove; the canoe the scout had used was alone in the shadow of a big oak, although a sentinel watched the bateaus. This sentinel had neglected to remove the canoe to his side of the cove and as Enoch came down the hillside he observed something moving in the shadow of the oak. A moment later, before he was really sure whether this something was a man or an animal, the canoe left the bank. The trees threw their shadows upon the water and it was almost impossible to observe the moving craft clearly; yet he was pretty sure that there was a figure in it and that it had been unmoored.

The youth was too far away to risk a shot; the sentinel was much farther from the point of embarkation. If Simon Halpen had found and seized this canoe it looked for a moment as though he would surely escape.

Enoch ran down to the edge of the water, but when he reached the point at which the canoe had been moored it was almost out of sight. He could not see the figure in the boat clearly enough to shoot. Indeed, he shrank from committing what seemed like murder. Simon Halpen was defenseless. "But he must not escape!" the boy exclaimed and started around the shore of the cove. The fugitive kept the canoe within the deep shadow of the trees which bordered the inlet. He did not paddle out into the centre; there he might have been seen by the sentinel on the other side.

The boy ran along the edge of the cove, stumbling over the tree roots and fallen logs, yet endeavoring to follow the course of the canoe as quietly as possible. There was a chance of his passing the fugitive and reaching the mouth of the cove first. Then, he thought, Halpen would be at his mercy. The better to do this unobserved he made a detour into the woods and finally, after ten minutes of rapid work, came out upon the extreme point which guarded the inlet. As he reached this place his quick ear distinguished the splash of a paddle not far away. Straining his eyes he soon observed through the gloom the canoe moving amid the shadows. The spy had very nearly escaped from the cove. Once out in the open lake it would be impossible to overtake him.

Then Enoch wished he had aroused his comrades; at least the sentinel guarding the bateaus would have heard his cry and come to his assistance. But now if the spy was to be stopped it must be by his individual effort. Throwing down his rifle and removing his outside garments, he slid into the water with scarcely a ripple of its surface and finding the lake deep at this point, began to swim at once. The canoe was almost upon him when suddenly, with a muttered exclamation, the fugitive turned the craft by one swift stroke of the paddle and sent it darting away from the shore. Enoch had been seen or heard, and Halpen feared what was the fact—that one of his enemies was striving to overtake him.

Enoch flung himself forward in the water and with a strong overhand stroke took a diagonal course to intercept the canoe. He could see the man bending to his paddle. Every stroke of the blade sent the phosphorescent water flying about the frail bark. The next few moments were of vital importance to both pursued and pursuer.

Enoch's plunge into the water had driven Halpen to paddle away from the shore. Now he was heading the craft across the cove and therefore toward the station of the sentinel. If he pursued this course for many rods he would be within rifle shot. And once out of the shadow of the trees the light on the water would make him an easy mark. To pass Enoch before the latter reached the edge of the line of shadow was therefore Simon Halpen's object.

But the American youth was determined that Halpen should not do this. He was a strong swimmer and spurred by both the desire to recapture his enemy and to save the cause to which he was bound—the capture of Ticonderoga—he put forth every atom of his strength to overtake the canoe. The paddle flashed first upon one side, then on the other of the craft, which fairly darted through the water. But suddenly a hand and arm rose from the lake and seized the paddle just back of the blade. Enoch had dived under the surface and come up beside the canoe as Halpen was speeding past.

"Ha! would you do it?" gasped the spy, striving to tear the paddle from the youth's grasp. The canoe rocked dangerously. The man flung himself to the other side and his superior strength wrenched the paddle away. Not contented to use the instrument in an attempt to escape, however, he tried to strike the youth with it. The canoe was all but overturned, although its momentum carried it on, and once out of Enoch's grasp the spy could have easily gotten away. Whether he recognized his enemy or not, Halpen was inclined to deliver a second blow. He rose to do this and Enoch, fairly leaping forward, seized the stern of the canoe with both hands.

"Throw down your paddle, Simon Halpen!" he commanded.

"It is you, then?" cried the spy, now sure of the identity of the youth. He aimed a fearful stroke at the boy's head. But instantly the latter tipped the canoe first one way, then the other, and the spy, losing his balance, plunged with a resounding splash into the lake!

The canoe turned completely over. This was not what Enoch wished, but the shock of Halpen's fall was so great that he could not help it. The boy's desire had been to pitch the man out, get in himself, and then have the spy at his mercy. But chance—nay, Providence, for the man's sins had deserved death—willed otherwise.

Simon Halpen could not swim. In falling into the lake he even lost his grip upon the paddle. So, when he rose to the surface, he had nothing to cling to, but struggled wildly and cried out in fear. "Help! I am choking! I will drown!" His voice rose to a screech. An answering shout came from the distant shore where the sentinel was stationed. But the latter was too far away to render aid. If the spy was to be saved it depended upon the efforts of the youth whose father had died under Halpen's hand, and whose own life the scoundrel had twice sought.

At that fearful cry, however, Enoch launched himself at the sinking man. His head was already under water when the boy reached down and seized his collar. He brought him to the surface. The water gurgled from his throat and he breathed again. Had he been content to abandon himself to his rescuer then he would have been saved.

But terror rode him like a nightmare. He feared drowning; he feared, too, the enemy whom he would have killed had he been able the instant before. He could not appreciate the generous spirit which had prompted Enoch to come to his assistance. He thought the boy strove only to force him beneath the lake and he fought and screamed with passion and horror of imminent death.

"Be still! be still!" cried Enoch, well-nigh overcome himself by the mad actions of the man. "Lie quiet or I cannot save you. Be still!"

Halpen did not hear him; or, if he heard, he would not believe. He tore himself from Enoch's grasp, and as the youth tried to seize him again he struck out wildly and his fist found lodgment against Enoch's jaw. The blow stunned the latter and he sank. Halpen strove to reach the overturned canoe. It was too far away. He felt himself going down for a third time and his lungs were already half filled with water. A fearful scream rent the night—the last cry of a terrified soul going to its end—and he sank. He never rose to the surface after that third plunge beneath the lake.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE DAWN OF THE TENTH OF MAY

Enoch Harding, after a moment of breathless agony beneath the water, struggled to the air again. The blow he had received so dulled his senses that, had the canoe not fortunately been within the reach of his arm, he would have a second time gone down into the depths of the lake and possibly shared the fate of his enemy. But when his hand, flung out in that despair which is said to make a drowning person catch at even a straw, came in contact with the boat he seized it with a grip that could not be shaken. He had not the strength necessary to turn it over and to climb into the craft; but fortunately rescue was near.

The sentinel had heard the voices out upon the water, and Simon Halpen's despairing scream as he went down for the last time, echoed from the wooded bluffs and reached the ears of the other Green Mountain Boys in the neighborhood. The sentinel leaped into the big canoe which Enoch had that morning secured from the Tory farmer up the lake, and paddled rapidly toward the mouth of the cove. He suspected at once that the escaped spy was trying to cross the lake and that some one of his brother scouts had discovered him.

Suddenly the rescuer saw the upturned canoe and the almost exhausted boy clinging to it. He drove his own craft alongside and reaching quickly seized Enoch's shoulder, bearing him up as the youth's own hands slipped from their resting-place on the keel of the canoe. "Courage—courage!" cried the scout, heartily. "You are not goin' down yet, Nuck Harding! Where's the other?"

"Gone—gone!" gasped Enoch, horrified by the death of Simon Halpen.

"Who was it?"

"The spy."

"Ah! I thought so. Well, we can't help the poor wretch now. Can you aid yourself at all? Brace up, man!"

"I'm—I'm all right," the youth declared, finally shaking off the feeling which had numbed him. "Let me get a grip on your boat—there! Now you can paddle ashore. I'll not lose my hold this time."

"Right it is, then." The rescuer paddled slowly toward the bateaus. When he came to the shore with the boy dragging behind him, Bolderwood and several other members of the company had arrived in answer to the expiring scream of the drowned Yorker. Upon hearing the explanation of the affair the chief scout's face became grave indeed. "The poor wretch has gone to his just desarts, I don't doubt," he said. "But so sudden—so sudden! It seems a turrible thing, friends, for a man to live the life he lived and then to go before his Maker without no preparation. He murdered poor Jonas Harding as sure as aigs is aigs, an' he tried twice ter kill the boy here, an' burned the widder's home. Yet I'd wished him time to make his peace with God. It's an awful affair.... But come!" he added, recovering himself, "there's something else to do now. We've got word from Colonel Allen. The troops are almost here. An' as good as we've done, there ain't ha'f enough boats to transport our boys across the lake."

"There may be more comin' from the north, 'Siah," suggested Brown. "Y' know ye sent some of the boys up that way this arternoon."

"Small hope o' their gettin' anything——"

The chief scout's words were interrupted by a shout from one of the others. Around the point which defended the little cove a boat was appearing—or, rather, a lantern which betrayed the approach of a boat. "Here's another!" was the cry. "Here's Major Skeene's big bateau—an' Major Skeene's nigger, too!" as the loud and angry voice of a black man was heard across the calm water.

"The boys are having a hard time with our black-and-tan friend," said Bolderwood with a chuckle. Then he held up his hand for silence. "Hark! there's the ring of a horse's hoof—and the tramp of feet. The troops are coming."

With a rattle of accoutrements a cavalcade of horsemen descended the bluff to the tiny cove. Enoch recognized Colonel Allen, Major Warner, the stranger, Arnold, and Colonel Easton, the commander of the Massachusetts and Connecticut forces. "Praise the Lord, 'Siah!" cried the hearty voice of the Green Mountain leader. "We're arrived at last. 'Twas like a task of Hercules to get here. And the night is already far gone. Where are your boats, man?"

"The bulk of 'em are right here, Colonel. We ain't got what I wished; but we've taken 'em from friend and foe, and here comes the last of my boys with Major Skeene's big raft and, if I ain't mighty mistaken, with a bag o' charcoal aboard that must ha' caused 'em consider'ble trouble."

The voice of the negro, who was the property of one of the wealthiest royalists on the lake, became more and more vociferous as the bateau approached the shore. "Wot de goodness youse shakaroons doin' yere? We ain't goin' land yere—no, sir! Dis ain't no place fur us. Who yo' t'ink capen ob dis craft, anyway?"

"Oh, come along, old man! we wanter see ye!" shouted Bolderwood from the shore. "We won't eat ye up."

"Dis ain' no place for us, I tells yo'!" cried the darky, and as the outline of the bateau and the objects upon it were now visible, they could see the whites of his rolling eyes. "I ain' got nuttin' ter do wid yo' shakaroons."

"Come on, there!" shouted Allen. "Gag that black rascal if he doesn't talk less and use his sweeps well."

"Who dat say fur ter gag me?" demanded the black, his teeth chattering. "D'you knows who I is, sah? I'se Major Skeene's nigger, an' dis Major Skeene's bateau, an' we gotter load o' freight fo' de castle."

"We've got another sort of freight for you, my man," said the Green Mountain leader. "So come ashore here and have no more words about it."

"But dese yere gemmen say dey goin' fishin' an' git me ter lend 'em passage!" cried the darky, in despair.

"And so we are going fishing," cried Ethan Allen. "And you shall go, too, my black friend. But it will be different fishing from any that you've experienced before. Out with you, now!" he added, as the bateau grounded on the shore. "Get that freight off, men. What boats we have we must use at once. Perhaps they can be returned for another party to cross after us. I'll never forgive myself if this oversight makes a wreck of our expedition."

At that moment the man who, earlier in the evening, had crossed the lake from the fort, came and spoke to Ethan Allen. The leader of the Americans listened attentively, slapping his thigh now and again with evident satisfaction as he heard the report of this faithful patriot who, as Allen had previously said, dared enter the lion's jaws. He had gone to Ticonderoga as a trader, had spent parts of two days in the fort, learning much that encouraged Allen in this desperate game he was playing. Although expecting additions to the garrison, Captain De la Place had not yet received the reinforcements. The buttresses of the fort, too, were in a sad state of repair. Indeed, since the British had swept the French from the lake, and with them driven the Hurons and Algonquins into the northern wilderness, few if any repairs had been made upon Ticonderoga. The British had simply held it as a storehouse and the garrison was small. If the American troops now gathering upon the eastern shore of Lake Champlain could once cross the water and approach the fort unperceived, there was hope in the hearts of all that the stronghold would be captured and the garrison overcome without any great loss of life.

"The God of Battles has been with ye!" exclaimed Allen, when the man had finished his report. "And if He is with us, as I believe, yonder fort and all it contains shall be ours before sunrise.... But hasten! Tell Baker to bring up his troops. Bolderwood, you and your scouts must go over first with us. Colonel Arnold, you will come in my boat if you wish. Major Warner, I leave you to assist our good friend Easton. The boats shall return as soon as we have landed. Count the men who enter these boats, gentlemen. The lake is calm; but do not overload the craft. We desire no accident to delay our landing on the other side."

Enoch Harding kept close to his friend, the old ranger, and was therefore in one of the foremost boats. He was near Colonel Allen when word was passed to that brave leader that those in the boats numbered but eighty-three. "Eighty-three!" exclaimed the Green Mountain hero. "And every man worth three red-coats. Once we get within those walls and I'll answer for them. Yet, sirs, I would that we had not been so long delayed on the road, or that there were more bateaus to our hand."

"Shall the attack be given up—postponed till a more fitting occasion—if we cannot get more across?" asked Arnold.

"Postponed!" cried Allen, his face darkening. "And pray tell me, sir, how can it be postponed? With the dawn our troops will be observed upon both sides of the lake by those in the fort, or by Tories who will gladly run with warning to the red-coats. A blind kitten could see what we are about. Nay, Colonel Arnold; we have put our hands to the plough and we'll cut a deep furrow or none at all!"

The bold courage of their leader inspired the handful of men with actual belief in the successful outcome of the attack. There were no doubts expressed during the voyage across the lake. But when the landing was made, at the foot of the bluff on which the fort was built, the east was already streaked with pink. The dawn of the tenth of May, 1775—a day as marked in American history as any which we celebrate—was at hand. Less than a hundred patriotic Green Mountain Boys had disembarked from the boats under the shadow of Ticonderoga. With the rising of the sun their presence would be discovered by the garrison of the fort, and once warned of their approach, the British could easily defend the works from any attack of infantry. Circumstances seemed to presage at that moment the defeat of the cause and utter humiliation of the participators in the proposed attack.

The boats had left the shore and were no longer to be descried, for a light fog covered the water. There was no retreat. To hide this party on the New York shore of the lake would be impossible. There were too many Tories about. Allen turned to his men. His voice was low, but intense, so that not only those around him, of which Enoch was one, but those at a distance heard every word uttered.

"Friends! we have come here for a single purpose. It is to advance upon yonder fortifications and capture them. We already outnumber the garrison; I have certain information upon this point. But our companions await on the other shore to be transported to this spot and join in our glorious work. In the east, however, is a warning we can all read. Before our friends can join us it will be day. We shall be observed here; the garrison will be called to arms; our opportunity be lost. So, my brave companions, we cannot wait.

"I shall attack the fort at once. I force no man to an act which caution forbids. If any of you doubt, fall out of the ranks and make good your escape. But I am going forward and those who trust in God and to my leadership will advance at once!" He drew his sword and advanced a long stride before the column of anxious patriots. "Forward!" he cried, and inspired by the same spirit which animated their gallant leader, every Green Mountain Boy obeyed the command. They would have cheered, but the moment for anything of that kind was not opportune. The rising mist scarcely concealed the fortress above them.

With Colonel Arnold by his side the indomitable Allen climbed the slope and approached the covered way which led into the fort. Not a word was spoken. The sullen tramp of the column was all that broke the stillness of the dawn. The sentinel placed here to guard the entrance—a matter of military rule rather than of precaution—leaned half asleep upon his musket. Had he been alert the approach of the troops must have been discovered ere they were visible. But Providence willed that he, together with all the garrison, should be totally unsuspicious of the planned attack of the provincials.

Suddenly, through the curling mist, appeared the head of the column. The sentinel started from his dream and, scarce understanding what he saw, advanced his musket, crying: "Halt! who goes there?"

The Americans accelerated their pace while Ethan Allen, whirling his sword above his head, shouted: "Forward!" The attacking force reached the mouth of the covered way at a double-quick. Repeating the command to halt the sentinel darted back, raised his weapon to his shoulder, and aiming full at the head of the commander of the Green Mountain Boys, pressed the trigger!



CHAPTER XXIV

THE GUNS OF OLD TI SPEAK

The fate of more than a brave man hung in the balance at that moment. The ultimate happiness and secure footing of a state was at stake when the sentinel pressed the trigger of his weapon. Had the ball reached its mark, the establishment of Vermont as a free state might have been postponed for many years. Ethan Allen's diplomacy in later dealing with the British agents who sought to wean Vermont from her federation with the struggling colonies, doubtless saved the Green Mountains from being overrun by a horde of Hessians and Indians who would have brought death and disaster to the patriotic settlers.

But Providence had other work for the leader of the Green Mountain Boys to do. The musket missed fire and flinging down the piece the sentinel turned and ran through the passage into the fort, shrieking that the enemy was at hand. With a cheer the little band of patriots followed, and before the garrison was awake to its situation, the Green Mountain Boys had reached the parade. Instructed by their captains what to do, the men ran hither and thither to seize the guns whose threatening muzzles peered through the embrasures of the walls, and to guard the entrances to the barracks where the garrison slept.

'Siah Bolderwood, seizing an axe, attacked the door of the ammunition cellar; for the American spy who had spent the previous day within the works had explained to the ranger the situation of this important compartment. The ringing blows of the woodman's axe doubtless awakened many of the sleeping soldiery. In half a minute the stout oak door was down. "There, Nuck Harding!" cried the long ranger, "I leave you to guard that 'ere. If they show fight, fire your rifle into the place. If so be, we'll all go up together; but Old Ti is ourn and if we're driven forth we'll wreck the fortifications as we go."

Meanwhile Ethan Allen, knowing well the sleeping quarters of Captain De la Place, having received his information from the same source as Bolderwood, leaped up the stairway to the apartment of the commander of the fort. His shoulder burst in the door without the loss of an instant, and he found the astounded captain sitting up in bed. "What is this, sir? Who are you?" cried the British officer.

"I call on ye to surrender, Captain De la Place!" cried the Green Mountain leader.

"In whose name do ye make this demand, sir?"

"In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!" replied Allen, sternly. Then, describing a circle about his head with his sword, he added in a tone not to be mistaken: "I demand the surrender of your fort and all the stores and goods it may contain; and, sir, unless you comply with my demand and parade your men without arms at once, I'll send your head, sir, spinning across this floor!" and the whistling steel blade was advanced until the British officer shrank in fear.

"I surrender! I surrender!" he cried, and word was passed at once to both the garrison and the Americans on the parade below. And thus the strongest British fortress within the borders of the disaffected colonies, capitulated to the American arms without a gun being fired. What if, when the news of the remarkable feat reached Philadelphia where the Continental Congress was in session, the act of Ethan Allen and his brave Green Mountain Boys was deplored, and a considerable party was for returning the stronghold to the king, while others wished to withdraw the American garrison, believing that the Champlain forts were too far on the frontier to be held successfully against the enemy? These suggestions were but the result of over-cautiousness on the part of some members of Congress. Happily their wishes were overborne and Ticonderoga remained an American fort until the cowardly St. Clair abandoned it before the advance of Burgoyne.

At the moment, however, the satisfaction of Ethan Allen and his brave companions was unbounded. While the British soldiers were being paraded without their weapons before their conquerors, a second body of Green Mountain Boys under Major Warner entered the fort. The tall Connecticut man came to Allen with considerable chagrin expressed in his countenance. "Colonel, you have selfishly seized all the honors this time!" he cried, yet congratulating his friend with a warm handclasp. "You are a regular Achilles; there is nothing heroic for the rest of us to do."

"Nonsense—nonsense, Seth!" cried Ethan Allen, yet unable to hide his delight at the outcome of the attack. "There is glory enough for every officer and every man Jack in the ranks. There is yet Crown Point to capture and you, Major, shall command that expedition. Take Bolderwood and some of his scouts with you and approach the other fortress by water—and good fortune and my blessing go with you!"

A moment later the great guns of Old Ti began to speak. And they spoke a new tongue that morning. The Voice of Liberty as expressed by the resonant thunders of the old cannon echoed and reechoed from height to height. The promontory which had been the scene of the bloody struggle between Champlain and the Iroquois, and the site of two fearful battles of the British and French, was at length sanctified by the presence of this band of liberty loving men destined, through the next few years, to offer their lives and possessions on the altar of their country.