“Caroline!Caroline!” called Faith, and the call echoed back to her astonished ears from the shadowy passage. “I’d better go back! I’m sure the other was the right way,” she finally decided; and very slowly she retraced her steps, stopping now and then to call the names of the girls who had deserted her.
It seemed a long time to Faith before she was back to where the big solid door had blocked the first passage. She was sure now that the other way would lead her back to the square where she had last seen her companions. But as she stood looking at the door she could see that it was not closed. It swung a little, and Faith wondered to herself if this door, after all, might not open near the entrance so that she could find her way to the road, and so back to Aunt Prissy.
She could just reach a big iron ring that swung from the center of the door; and sheseized this and pulled with all her might. As the door slowly opened, letting in the clear October sunlight, Faith heard steps coming down the passage. The half-opened door nearly hid her from sight, and she looked back expecting to see either Caroline or Catherine, and, in the comfort of the hope of seeing them, quite ready to accept any excuse they might offer. But before she could call out she heard a voice, which was vaguely familiar, say: “I did leave that door open. Lucky I came back,” and Nathan Beaman, the Shoreham boy, was close beside her.
When he saw a little girl still grasping the iron ring, he seemed too surprised to speak.
“I’m lost!” Faith whispered. “I’m so glad you came. Major Young’s little girls asked me to come to the fort, and then ran away and left me,” and Faith told of her endeavors to find her companions.
“Lucky I came back,” said Nathan again, but this time his voice had an angry tone. “It was a mean trick. Those girls——” Then Nathan stopped suddenly. “Well, they’re Tories,” he concluded.
“I was afraid it was night,” said Faith.
“No, but you might have wandered about in these passageways until you were tired out. Or you might have fallen from that door. Look out, but hold close to the door,” said Nathan.
Faith came to the doorway and found herself looking straight down the face of a high cliff to the blue waters of the lake. Lifting her eyes she could look across and see the distant wooded hills of the Green Mountains, and could hear the “Chiming Waters” of the falls.
“It’s lovely. But what do they have a door here for?” Faith asked.
And then Nathan explained what forts were for. That a door like that gave the soldiers who held the fort a chance to look up and down the lake in order to see the approach of an enemy by water. “And gives them a chance to scramble down the cliff and get away if the enemy captures the fort from the other side.” Then he showed Faith the two big cannon that commanded the lake and any approach by the cliff.
“But come on. I must take you home,” he declared, moving as if to close the door.
“Could we get out any other way than by going back through that passage?” asked Faith,who thought that she never wanted to see the two sisters again, and now feared they might be waiting for her.
“Certainly we could. That is, if you are a good climber,” replied Nathan. “I’ll tell you something, that is, if you’ll never tell,” he added.
“I won’t,” Faith declared earnestly.
“Well, I can go down that cliff and up, too, just as easily as I can walk along that passage. And the soldiers don’t pay much attention to this part of the fort. There’s a sentry at the other end of the passage, but he doesn’t mind how I get in and out. If you’ll do just as I say I’ll take you down the cliff. My boat is hidden down by Willow Point, and I’ll paddle you alongshore. ’Twill be easier than walking. That is, if you’re not afraid,” concluded Nathan.
“No, I’m not afraid,” said Faith, thinking to herself that here was another secret, and almost wishing that she had not agreed to listen to it.
“Come on, then,” said Nathan, stepping outside the door, and holding tightly to the door-frame with one hand and reaching the other toward Faith. “Hold tight to my hand and don’t look down,” he said.“Look to the right as you step out, and you’ll see a chance for your feet. I’ve got a tight hold. You can’t fall.”
Faith clutched his hand and stepped out. There was room toward the right for her to stand. She heard the big door clang behind her. “I had to shut it,” Nathan said, as he cautiously made his way a step down the face of the cliff. Faith followed cautiously. She noticed just how Nathan clung to the outstanding rocks, how slowly and carefully he made each movement. She knew if she slipped that she would push him as well as herself off into the lake.
“I mustn’t slip! I mustn’t,” she said over and over to herself.
Nathan did not speak, except to tell her where to step. At last they were safely down, standing on a narrow rocky ledge which hardly gave them a foothold. Along this they crept to a thick growth of alder bushes where a clumsy wooden punt was fastened.
Faith followed Nathan into the punt, and as he pushed the boat off from the bushes she gave a long sigh of relief.
“That was great!” declared Nathan triumphantly.“Say, you’re the bravest girl I know. I’ve always wondered if I could bring anybody down that cliff, and now I know I can. But you mustn’t tell any one how we got out of the fort. You won’t, will you?” And Faith renewed her promise not to tell.
Nathan paddled the boat out around the promontory on which the fort was built. He kept close to the shore.
“Does Major Young stay at the fort?” questioned Faith.
“Not very long at a time. He comes and goes, like all spies,” replied Nathan scornfully. “I wish the Green Mountain Boys would take this fort and send the English back where they belong. They keep stirring the Indians up against the settlers, so that people don’t know when they are safe.”
It was the last day of October, and the morning had been bright and sunny. The sun still shone, but an east wind was ruffling the waters of the lake, and Faith began to feel chilly.
“I’ll warrant you don’t know when this lake was discovered?” said Nathan; and Faith was delighted to tell him that Samuel De Champlain discovered and gave the lake his name in 1609.
“The Indians used to call it ‘Pe-ton-boque,’” she added.
But when Nathan asked when the fort was built she could not answer, and the boy told her of the brave Frenchmen who built Ticonderoga in 1756, bringing troops and supplies from Canada.
“The old fort has all sorts of provisions, and guns and powder that the English have stored there. I wish the American troops had them. If I were Ethan Allen or Seth Warner I’d make a try, anyway, for this fort and for Crown Point, too,” said Nathan.
The rising wind made it rather difficult for the boy to manage his boat, and he finally landed some distance above the point where Kashaqua had reached shore. Faith was sure that she could go over the fields and find her way safely home, and Nathan was anxious to cross the lake to Shoreham before the wind became any stronger. Faith felt very grateful to him for bringing her from the fort.
“You’ll be as brave as Colonel Allen when you grow up,” she said, as she stood on the shore and watched him paddle off against the wind.
He nodded laughingly. “So will you. Remember your promise,” he called back.
The wind seemed to blow the little girl before it as she hurried across the rough field. She held tight to her velvet cap, and, for the first time, wondered if she had torn or soiled the pretty new dress in her scramble down the cliff. Her mind was so full of the happenings of the afternoon that she did not look ahead to see where she was going, and suddenly her foot slipped and she fell headlong into a mass of thorn bushes, which seemed to seize her dress in a dozen places. By the time Faith had fought her way clear her hands were scratched and bleeding and her dress torn in ragged ugly tears that Faith was sure could never be mended.
She began to cry bitterly. “It’s all the fault of those hateful girls,” she sobbed aloud. “If they had not run off and left me I should be safe at home. What will Aunt Prissy say?”
Faith reached the road without further mishap, and was soon walking up the path. There was no one in sight; not even Scotchie was about. A sudden resolve entered her mind. She would slip up-stairs, change her dress, and not tell her aunt about the torn dress. “Perhaps I can mend it, after all,” she thought.
As she changed her dress hurriedly, she wonderedwhere all the family could be, for the house was very quiet. But she bathed her hands and face, smoothed her ruffled hair, and then looked for a place to hide the blue dress until she could find a chance to mend it. She peered into the closet. A small hair-covered trunk stood in the far corner and Faith lifted the top and thrust her dress in. At that moment she heard Donald’s voice, and then her aunt’s, and she started to go down-stairs to meet them.
“Didyou see all the fort, and the guns, and the soldiers?” asked Donald eagerly, running to meet his cousin as she came slowly into the sitting-room. “Why, your hand is all scratched!” he added in a surprised tone.
Faith tried to cover the scratched hand with a fold of her skirt. Aunt Prissy noticed that the little girl wore her every-day dress.
“Didn’t you wear your blue dress, Faithie?” and without waiting for an answer said: “Well, perhaps this one was just as well, for you might have hurt your blue dress.”
Faith sat down on the big sofa thinking to herself that she could never be happy again. First, and worst of all, was the ruined dress. Then the remembrance of the way she had been treated by Caroline and Catherine; and, last of all, hersecrets!—every one a little more important and dreadful than the other. First the blue beads; then Nathan’s knowledge of ahidden entrance to Fort Ticonderoga; and then the dress. She was so taken up with her unhappy thoughts that she did not realize she had not answered Donald, or spoken to her aunt, until Donald, who was standing directly in front of her, demanded: “What’s the matter, Cousin Faith? Does your tooth ache?”
Faith shook her head. “I’m tired. I didn’t have a good time at all. I don’t like those girls,” and, greatly to Donald’s alarm, she put her head on the arm of the sofa and began to cry.
In an instant she felt Aunt Prissy’s arm about her, and heard the kind voice say: “Never mind, dear child. Don’t think about them.”
After a little Aunt Prissy persuaded Faith to lie down and rest until supper time.
“I’ll sit here with my sewing and keep you company,” said Aunt Prissy. “It’s an hour to candle-light.”
Donald tiptoed out of the room, but was back in a moment standing in the doorway and beckoning his mother; and Mrs. Scott went quietly toward him, closing the door softly behind her.
“It’s those girls. The ones Faith went with to the fort,” Donald explained in a whisper. “They’re on the door-step.”
Caroline and Catherine were standing, very neat and demure, at the front door.
“Has your little girl got home?” inquired Catherine in her most polite manner; “she ran off and left us,” added Caroline.
“Faith is safe at home,” responded Mrs. Scott in a pleasant voice.
“Why didn’t you ask them to supper, mother? You said you were going to,” demanded Donald, as he watched the sisters walk down the path.
“Your cousin is too tired for company,” said his mother, who had planned a little festivity for Faith and her friends on their return, but had quickly decided that her little niece would be better pleased not to see the sisters again that day.
“All the more cake for us then,” said Donald cheerfully, for he had seen a fine cake on the dining-room table; “there comes the shoemaker’s girl,” he added. “Shall you ask her to stay, mother?”
“Yes, indeed,” and Mrs. Scott turned to give Louise a cordial welcome.
“Faith is resting on the sofa, but you may go right in, Louise. I know she will be glad to see you,” she said, smiling down at the dark-eyed little girl. “When are you coming to make us another visit?”
“Father said I might stay all night if you asked me,” responded Louise, who now felt sure that Mrs. Scott was her friend.
“We shall be glad indeed to have you, my dear. Let me take your cap and cape. And go in and cheer up Faithie, for I fear she has had an unhappy time,” said Mrs. Scott.
Louise’s smile faded. She had never had a friend until Faith Carew came to Ticonderoga, and the thought that any one had made Faith unhappy made her ready to inflict instant punishment on the offenders.
“Oh, Louise! I’m so glad it’s you!” exclaimed Faith, as she heard the sound of Louise’s crutch stubbing across the floor.
Louise sat down beside the crumpled little figure on the sofa.
“What did they do, Faith?” she demanded.
Faith told the story of the walk to the fort; of the disagreeable manner of both Caroline and Catherine toward her, and of their disappearanceas soon as they were inside the fort. But she did not tell of her efforts to find them, nor of Nathan Beaman’s appearance.
“They are hateful things!” Louise declared, “but it won’t be long before they’ll go to Albany with their father. Oh!” she ended a little fearfully. “I ought not to have told that. It’s a secret,” she added quickly.
“No, it isn’t. They told me,” answered Faith, “and if it were a secret I shouldn’t want to know it. I hate and despise secrets.”
Louise looked at her friend with a little nod of comprehension. “That’s because you have a secret,” she said.
“How did you know, Louise?” and Faith wondered if it were possible Louise could know about the blue dress.
“I know,” said Louise. “It’s dreadful to know secrets. I can stay all night. My father has gone to the fort. Oh!” and again she put her hand over her mouth. “I ought not to have told that. He doesn’t want any one to know.”
Faith leaned back against the sofa with a little sigh of discouragement. It seemed to her there was nothing but secrets. She wished she waswith her mother and father in her pleasant cabin home, where everybody knew about everything.
“Where’s ‘Lady Amy’?” asked Louise, quite sure that such a beautiful doll would comfort any trouble. And her question made Faith remember that Louise was a guest.
“I’ll get her,” she said, and in a few moments “Lady Amy” was sitting on the sofa between the two little friends, and Faith was displaying the new dresses that Aunt Prissy had helped her make for the doll.
“Father says he will buy me a doll,” Louise announced, “and he’s going to get me a fine string of beads, too, when he goes away again;” for the shoemaker went away frequently on mysterious business. Many of the settlers were quite sure that he carried messages for the British officers to other forts; but he came and went so stealthily that as yet no proof was held against him.
“I have some blue beads. My father is going to bring them when he comes to see me,” said Faith. “I hope yours will be just like them.”
Louise shook her head a little doubtfully.“I may never get them, after all. Father forgets things,” she said.
Before supper time Faith was in a much happier state of mind. She had helped Louise with her reading lesson; they had played that the sofa was a throne and Lady Amy a queen, and that they were Lady Amy’s daughters; and the unpleasantness of the early afternoon had quite vanished when the candles were lighted, and supper on the table.
The supper seemed a feast to the shoemaker’s daughter. Every time she came to visit Faith Louise tasted some new dish, so daintily prepared that she was at once eager to learn to make it. Faith was hungry, too, and, as no reference was made to her trip to the fort, she enjoyed her supper; and not until it was finished was she reminded of her troubles.
“To-morrow Louise may go to church with us, and you may wear your blue dress that you are so careful of,” Aunt Prissy said.
Faith made no response. She did not know what to do or say. She was so quiet that her aunt was sure her little niece was overtired, and soon after supper sent the little girls off to bed.
“What is the matter, Faith?” questionedLouise, when they were safely in the big chamber, with its high white bed, curtained windows, and comfortable chairs, and which to Louise seemed the finest bedroom in all the world.
Faith threw herself face down on the bed. “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do! I’ve spoiled my blue dress!” she sobbed. There! That was one secret the less, she thought. And Louise would never tell. “I can’t go to church. I don’t dare tell Aunt Prissy about the dress. It was to be my best dress all winter,” she added. “What shall I do, Louise?”
Louise shook her head. That Faith Carew, who seemed to her to be the most fortunate girl in all the world, should be in trouble was a far more dreadful thing to Louise than any trouble of her own.
“Let me see the dress,” she said; “perhaps it isn’t very bad.”
Faith opened the trunk and pulled out the blue dress, which only that morning had been so fresh and dainty. Now it was rumpled, soiled and torn. Faith’s tears flowed afresh as she held it out for Louise to see.
“I guess you’d better tell your aunt,” Louise said soberly. “Tell her now, this minute,” she added quickly; “the sooner the better.”
Faith looked at her in surprise. She wondered at herself that she had hidden the dress, or even thought of not telling Aunt Prissy.
“I’ll go now,” she said, and, still holding the dress, walked out of the room. She no longer felt afraid. As she went down the stairs she thought over all Aunt Prissy’s goodness toward her. “I’ll tell her that I can wear my other dress for best,” she decided.
The boys were already in bed; Mr. Scott was attending to the evening chores, and Aunt Prissy was alone in the sitting-room when Faith appeared in the doorway.
“Aunt Prissy, look! I tore my dress coming home to-day, and I was afraid to tell you! Oh, Aunt Prissy!” for her aunt had taken Faith and the blue dress into her arms, and held the little girl closely as she said:
“Why, dear child! How could you ever be afraid of me? About a dress, indeed! A torn dress is nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Louise, you are my very best friend,” Faith declared happily, as she came running into theroom a few minutes later. “I am so glad you made me tell.”
Louise looked at Faith with shining eyes. She wished there was some wonderful thing that she could do for Faith as a return for all the happiness her friendship had brought into her life.
The clouds had lifted. Faith had disposed of one secret, and felt the others would not matter very much. The two little friends snuggled down in the big feather bed and were soon fast asleep.
Theweek following Faith’s visit to the fort proved rather a difficult one for her at school. Caroline and Catherine seemed to think they had played a fine joke, and accused her of running home when they were waiting for her. Faith had resolved not to quarrel with them, but apparently the sisters meant to force her into trouble, if sneering words and ridicule could do it.
“You’re an American, so you don’t dare talk back,” sneered Catherine one day when Faith made no reply to the assertion that Faith had meant to run home from the fort alone.
“Americans are not afraid,” replied Faith quickly.
Catherine jumped up and down with delight at having made Faith angry.
“Oh, yes they are. My father says so. Another summer the English soldiers are going to take all the farms, and all you rebels will be our servants,” declared Catherine.
“Another summer the Green Mountain Boys will send the English soldiers where they will behave themselves,” declared Faith. “Ethan Allen is braver than all the men in that fort.”
“I don’t care what you say. We’re not going to play with you any more, are we, Caroline?” said Catherine. “You play with that horrid little lame girl.”
“She isn’t horrid. She is much better than you are. She wouldn’t say or do the things you do!” responded Faith, now too angry to care what she said, “and she is my very best friend. I wouldn’t play with you anyway. You’re only Tory children,” and Faith walked off with her head lifted very proudly, feeling she had won the battle; as indeed she had, for the sisters looked after her in silent horror.
To be called “only” Tory children was a new point of view, and for several days they let Faith wholly alone. Then one morning they appeared at school with the news that it would be their last appearance there.
“We’re going to Albany, and never coming back to this rough common place,” Catherine said.
“I am glad of it,” Faith replied sharply; “perhaps you will learn to be polite in Albany.”
Some of the other children overheard these remarks, and a little titter of amusement and satisfaction followed Faith’s words. For the sisters had made no effort to be friendly with their schoolmates, and not one was sorry to see the last of them.
Faith awoke each morning hoping that her father would come that day, but it was toward the last of November before he appeared. There had been several light falls of snow; the ground was frozen and ice formed along the shores of the lake. The days were growing shorter, and Mrs. Scott had decided that it was best for Faith to come straight home from school at night, instead of stopping in to help Louise with her lessons. But both the little girls were pleased with the new plan that Mrs. Scott suggested, for Louise to come home with Faith on Tuesdays and Fridays and stay all night. Louise was learning a good deal more than to read and write. Mrs. Scott was teaching her to sew neatly, and Faith had taught her to knit. Shewas always warmly welcomed by Donald and the two younger boys, and these visits were the bright days of the week for Louise.
At last, when Faith had begun to think her father might not come after all, she returned from school one night to find him waiting for her. It was difficult to tell which of the two, father or daughter, was the happier in the joy of seeing each other. Mr. Carew had arrived in the early afternoon, and Aunt Prissy was now busy preparing the evening meal and Faith and her father had the sitting-room to themselves. There was so much to say that Faith hardly knew where to begin, after she had listened to all her father had to tell her of her mother.
“I would have come before, but I have been waiting for Kashaqua to come and stay with your mother,” said Mr. Carew. “She appeared last night, and will stay until I return. And your mother could have no better protector. Kashaqua is proud enough since we proved our confidence in her by sending you here in her charge.”
Faith told him about Louise, and was surprised to see her father’s face grave and troubled. For Mr. Carew had heard of the shoemaker, andwas sure that he was an English spy, and feared that his daughter’s friendship with Faith might get the Scotts into some trouble.
“She is my dearest friend. I tell her everything,” went on Faith.
“I’m afraid her father is not a friend to the settlers about here,” replied Mr. Carew. “Be careful, dear child, that you do not mention any of the visitors who come to your uncle’s house. Your friend would mean no harm, but if she told her father great harm might come of it,” for Mr. Scott was doing his best to help the Americans. Messengers from Connecticut and Massachusetts with news for the settlers came to his house, and Mr. Scott found ways to forward their important communications to the men on the other side of Lake Champlain.
“Aunt Prissy likes Louise; we all do,” pleaded Faith; so her father said no more, thinking that perhaps he had been overanxious.
“Your mother sent your blue beads. I expect you would have been scolded a little for being a careless child if you had been at home, for she found them under the settle cushion the very day you left home,” said Mr. Carew, handingFaith two small packages. “The larger package is one that came from Esther Eldridge a few weeks ago,” he added, in answer to Faith’s questioning look.
“I wonder what it can be,” said Faith; but before she opened Esther’s package she had taken the blue beads from the pretty box and put them around her neck, touching them with loving fingers, and looking down at them with delight. Then she unfastened the wrapping of the second package.
“Here is a letter!” she exclaimed, and began reading it. As she read her face brightened, and at last she laughed with delight. “Oh, father! Read it! Esther says to let you and mother read it. And she has sent me another string of beads!” And now Faith opened the other box, a very pretty little box of shining yellow wood with “Faith” cut on the top, and took out another string of blue beads, so nearly like her own that it was difficult to tell them apart.
Mr. Carew read Esther’s letter. She wrote that she had lost Faith’s beads, and had been afraid to tell her.“Now I am sending you another string that my father got on purpose. I think you were fine not to say a word to any one about how horrid I was to ask for your beads. Please let your mother and father read this letter, so they will know how polite you were to company.”
“So it was Esther who lost the beads! Well, now what are you going to do with two strings of beads?” said her father smilingly.
When Aunt Prissy came into the room Faith ran to show her Esther’s present and the letter, and told her of what had happened when she had so rashly promised to give Esther anything she might ask for. “I am so glad to have my own beads back again. And most of all I am glad not to have the secret,” she said, thinking to herself that life was much happier when father and mother and Aunt Prissy could know everything that she knew. Then, suddenly, Faith recalled the fort, and the difficult climb down the cliff. “But that’s not my secret. It’s something outside. Something that I ought not to tell,” she thought, with a little sense of satisfaction.
“But which string of beads did Esther send you? I can’t tell them apart,” she heard Aunt Prissy say laughingly.
When the time came for Mr. Carew to startfor home Faith was sure that she wanted to go home with him. And it was only when her father had promised to come after her early in March, “or as soon as March stirs the fire, and gives a good warm day,” he said, that Faith could be reconciled and persuaded to let him go without her. She was glad indeed that it was a Tuesday, and that Louise would come to stay all night. Faith was eager to tell Louise the story of the blue beads, and to show her those Esther had sent, and those that Aunt Prissy had given her. Faith was sure that she herself could tell the beads apart, and equally sure that no one else could do so.
Louise was waiting at the gate when Faith came from school. At the first sight of her Faith was hardly sure that it was Louise; for the little girl at the gate had on a beautiful fur coat. It was made of otter skins, brown and soft. On her head was a cap of the same fur; and, as Faith came close, she saw that Louise wore fur mittens.
“Oh, Louise! Your coat is splendid,” she exclaimed. “And you look so pretty in it; and the cap and mittens.” And Faith looked at Louise, smiling with delighted admiration.
Louise nodded happily. “My father sent to Albany for them. A man brought them last night,” she said. “You do truly like them?” she questioned, a little anxiously.
“Of course! Any girl would think they were beautiful. Aunt Prissy will be just as glad as I am,” declared Faith. “What’s in that big bundle?” she added, as Louise lifted a big bundle from beside the gate.
But if Louise heard she made no reply, and when Faith offered to carry the package she shook her head laughingly. Faith thought it might be something that Louise wanted to work on that evening, and was so intent on telling of her father’s visit, the blue beads, and the promised visit to her own dear home in March, that she did not really give much thought to the package.
Aunt Prissy was at the window watching for the girls, with the three little boys about her. They all came to the door, and Aunt Prissy exclaimed, just as Faith had done, over the beauty of Louise’s new possessions. “But what is in that big bundle, Louise?” she asked, when the little lame girl had taken off coat, cap and mittens, and stood smiling up at her good friend.
“Once you said to me that a present was something that any one ought to be very happy to receive,” she said.
“Yes, I remember. And I know you are happy over your father’s gift,” replied Mrs. Scott.
Louise nodded, and began unwrapping the bundle.
“This is my present to Faith,” she said, struggling to untie the heavy string.
“Let me, Louise; let me,” and Donald was down on his knees and in a moment the bundle was opened, and Donald exclaimed:
“My! It’s a coat exactly like Louise’s.”
“There’s a cap too, and mittens,” said Louise eagerly. “Do try it on.”
Donald stood holding the coat; and Faith, as excited and happy as Louise, slipped on the coat, put the cap on her head and held out her hands for the mittens.
“Oh, Louise! They are lovely. I may keep them, mayn’t I, Aunt Prissy?” she asked, turning about for her aunt to see how nicely the coat fitted.
Neither of the little girls noticed that Mrs. Scott looked grave and a little troubled, for shewas thinking that this was almost too fine a present for her little niece to accept from the shoemaker’s daughter. But she knew that to refuse to let Faith accept it would not only make both the girls very unhappy, but that Mr. Trent would forbid Louise coming to the house, and so stop all her friendly efforts to help Louise; so she added her thanks to those of Faith, and the two little friends were as happy as it is possible to be over giving and receiving a beautiful gift. Faith even forgot her blue beads in the pleasure of possessing the pretty coat and cap.
“Canyou skate, Cousin Faith?” asked Donald, on their way to school one morning in late December. There had been a week of very cold weather, and the ice of the lake glittered temptingly in the morning sun.
“No, I never had any skates, and there wasn’t a very good chance for skating at home,” answered Faith regretfully; for many of the school children were eager for the sport, and told her of their good times on the ice.
“Mother has a pair of skates for you; I heard her say so; and father is going to teach you to skate,” responded Donald. “I can skate,” he added, “and after you learn we’ll have a fine time. Nat Beaman comes across the lake on the ice in no time.”
It was rather difficult for Faith to pay attention to her studies that day. She wondered when Aunt Prissy would give her the skates, and Uncle Phil teach her how to use them.And when the schoolmaster announced that there would be no school for the remainder of the week Faith felt that everything was planned just right for her. Now, she thought, she could begin the very next day, if only the cold, clear weather would continue.
The sun set clear and red that night, and the stars shone brightly. Faith was sure the next day would be pleasant. Donald found a chance to tell Faith that the skates were a “secret.” “But I didn’t know it until just a few minutes ago,” he explained, adding briefly: “I hate secrets.”
Faith agreed heartily. If the skates were a secret who could tell when Aunt Prissy would give them to her? She went to bed a little despondent, thinking to herself that as soon as she was clear of one secret another seemed ready to interfere with her happiness. But she was soon asleep, and woke up to find the sun shining in at her windows, and Aunt Prissy starting the fire with a shovelful of coals from the kitchen hearth. And what were those shining silver-like objects swinging from the bed-post?
“Skates! My skates!” she exclaimed, sittingup in bed. “Oh, Aunt Prissy! I did want them so to-day.”
“They are your birthday present from your father and mother,” said Aunt Prissy, coming to the side of the bed, and leaning over to kiss her little niece. “Eleven years old to-day! And you had forgotten all about it!”
“Why, so I am! Why, so I did!” said Faith. “Well, I like secrets that end this way. May I go skating right away, Aunt Prissy?”
“Breakfast first!” laughed Aunt Prissy, and was out of the room before Faith had noticed that lying across the foot of her bed was a dress of pretty plaided blue and brown wool. A slip of paper was pinned to it: “For Faith to wear skating,” she read.
“Lovely! Lovely!” exclaimed Faith, as she hastened to dress in front of the blazing fire.
“Why, here are new stockings, too,” she said, as she discovered a pair of warm knit brown and blue stockings.
She came running into the dining-room, skates in hand, to be met by her uncle and little cousins with birthday greetings. Donald had at last finished the bow and arrows that he had promised her weeks before, and now gavethem to her; Hugh had made a “quiver,” a little case to hold the arrows, such as the Indians use, of birch bark, and little Philip had a dish filled with molasses candy, which he had helped to make.
It was a beautiful morning for Faith, and the broiled chicken and hot corn cake gave the breakfast an added sense of festivity.
Soon after breakfast Mr. Scott, Donald and Faith were ready to start for the lake. Donald took his sled along. “So we can draw Cousin Faith home, if she gets tired,” he explained, with quite an air of being older and stronger than his cousin.
Aunt Prissy watched them start off, thinking to herself that Faith had never looked so pretty as she did in the fur coat and cap, with her skates swinging from her arm, the bright steel catching the rays of sunlight.
They crossed the road, and went down the field to the shore. The hard crust gave Faith and Donald a fine coast down the slope, and both the children exclaimed with delight when Mr. Scott, running and sliding, reached the shore almost as soon as they did.
Mr. Scott fastened on Faith’s skates, and heldup by her uncle on one side and Donald on the other, Faith ventured out on the dark, shining ice. After a few lurches and tumbles, she found that she could stand alone, and in a short time could skate a little.
“Father, are those Indians?” asked Donald, pointing to a number of dark figures coming swiftly down the lake from the direction of the fort.
Mr. Scott looked, and answered quickly: “Yes. They have seen us; so we will skate toward them. They will probably be friendly.” But he told Faith to sit down on the sled, and took fast hold of Donald’s hand. In a few moments the flying figures of the Indians were close at hand. There were six of them, young braves, and evidently racing either for sport, or bound on some errand of importance, for they sped straight past the little group, with a friendly call of salutation.
“I wonder what that means,” said Mr. Scott, turning to watch them. “It may be they are on their way to Albany as messengers from the fort,” he added, as if speaking to himself.
“What kind of a message, Uncle Philip?” asked Faith.
“Heaven knows, child. Perhaps for troops enough to crush the American settlers, and drive them from their homes,” replied Mr. Scott. For news of the trouble in Boston, the blockade of the port, and the lack of supplies, had reached the men of the Wilderness; and Mr. Scott knew that the English were planning to send a larger body of troops to Fort Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and the sight of these speeding Indians made him wonder if they might not be English messengers.
“Couldn’t we stop them, uncle?” asked Faith, so earnestly that her uncle looked down at her in smiling surprise.
“Couldn’t we? It will be dreadful to leave our homes,” said Faith.
Mr. Scott swung the little girl gently around. “Look!” he said, pointing down the lake. Already the Indians were but dark specks in the distance. “If trouble comes there are brave Americans ready,” he said; “and now we had best be going toward home, or you will be too tired to come out this afternoon.”
Faith and Donald were surprised to find that it was dinner time. They had a great deal to tell Aunt Prissy of their morning’s adventures.
“Could a little girl do anything to help, Aunt Prissy, if the English do try to drive us away?” Faith asked, as she helped her aunt clear the dining-room table.
“Who knows?” responded Mrs. Scott, cheerfully. “A brave girl might be of great service. But I do not believe the Tories will dare go much farther. At all events, we will be ready for them. Run to the door, Faithie; there comes Louise.”
Louise was as pleased over Faith’s presents as Faith herself, and delighted at the prospect of going to the lake with Faith and Donald that afternoon. Faith and Donald promised to draw her on the sled, and Aunt Prissy was to be their companion.
“Mother can skate like a bird,” Donald declared admiringly.
Louise was no longer the sullen, sad-faced child whom Faith had first seen. She knew that she had friends; she was included in all the pleasant happenings with Faith; her father seemed to take pride in her appearance; and best of all, she thought, she was to begin school when the spring term opened. To-day as they started off for the lake she was as full of happiness as any child could be.
There were a number of children and young people on the ice, skating and sliding. A number of boys had built a bonfire on the shore, where they could warm their chilled toes and fingers.
Nathan Beaman was there, circling about in skilful curves, or darting off with long swift strokes, greatly to the admiration of the other children. He was quite ready to take the sled rope and give Louise a fine ride up the lake toward the fort, and back to the fire, and to guide Faith in her clumsy efforts to skate.
Faith and Louise were warming their fingers at the fire when they heard loud voices and a commotion on the ice.
“What is it? Indians?” exclaimed Faith, looking around, for the settlers never knew at what moment the Indians might become mischievous.
“No! Soldiers. Soldiers from the fort,” replied Aunt Prissy, drawing the little girls away from the fire. “Perhaps they are only coming to warm their fingers.”
Two red-coated soldiers came swinging close to the shore. They were talking loudly, and as they neared the fire they called out:“Clear away from that fire. We’ll have no fires built on this shore. ’Tis too good a way to send messages across the lake.”
With a couple of stout sticks they beat out the flame, kicking snow over the coals, and extinguishing the last bit of fire.
Mrs. Scott had helped Louise toward the ice, but Faith had lingered a moment. As one of the soldiers turned from the fire he found himself facing a little fur-clad figure with flushed cheeks and angry eyes.
“That was our fire. You had no business to put it out,” Faith declared.
“Oh, ho! What’s this?” laughed the soldier. “Do you own this lake? Or perhaps you are our new captain?”
“It is a mean thing to spoil our fire,” continued Faith; “we wouldn’t do you any harm.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” replied the soldier. “You have a pretty fierce expression,” and with another kick at the fire, and a “good-bye, little rebel,” to Faith, the two soldiers started back to the fort. The skaters now, troubled and angry by the unfriendly interference, were taking off their skates and starting for home.
“I wish American soldiers were in that fort,” said Nat Beaman.
“Why don’t you ask Colonel Allen to come and take it?” asked Faith earnestly; she was quite sure that Ethan Allen could do anything he attempted.
“Ask him yourself,” responded Nathan laughingly.
“I guess I will,” Faith thought to herself, as she followed Aunt Prissy up the field toward home. “Perhaps that would be doing something to help Americans.”
The more Faith thought about this the stronger became her resolve to ask Colonel Allen to take possession of Fort Ticonderoga. She was so silent all the way home that her companions were sure she was overtired. Louise had to return to her own home, and soon after supper Faith was ready to go to bed.
“I’ve got a real secret now; even if I don’t like secrets,” she thought to herself. For she realized that she could not tell any one of her determination to find some way to ask Ethan Allen to capture Ticonderoga and send the troublesome English soldiers back to their own homes.
“Itwill be a good day to put a quilt in the frame,” said Aunt Prissy, the morning after Faith’s birthday. “You and Donald can help me with it right after breakfast; then while you children are off to the lake I will mark the pattern.”
“Can’t I help mark the pattern?” asked Faith, who had sometimes helped her mother, and thought it the most interesting part of the quilting.
The quilting-frame, four long strips of wood, was brought into the sitting-room and rested on the backs of four stout wooden chairs, forming a square. The frame was held firmly together at the corners by clamps and screws, so that it could be changed and adjusted to fit the quilt.
This quilt was a very pretty one, Faith thought, as she watched Aunt Prissy fasten it to the frame with stout linen thread. It was madeof bits of bright woolen cloth. There were pieces of Faith’s new dresses, and of the dresses made for Louise, and they were neatly stitched together in a diamond-shaped pattern. Faith had made a good many of these, and so had Louise in the evenings as they sat with Aunt Prissy before the open fire.
First of all Aunt Prissy had fastened the lining for the quilt to the frame. Over this she spread an even layer of soft wool, and then over this the bright patchwork was spread and fastened. And now it was ready to mark the quilting pattern.
Aunt Prissy took a ball of firm twine and rubbed it well with white chalk. The cord was fastened tightly across the surface of the quilt.
“Now,” said Aunt Prissy, and Faith took the tight cord up and “snap” it went when her fingers released their hold, leaving a straight white mark across the quilt. Back and forth they stretched the cord and “snapped” the line, until the quilt was marked in a checkerboard pattern of white lines, which the quilters would follow with their neat stitches.
“I believe I’ll have a quilting bee to-morrow,” said Aunt Prissy.“When you and Donald start out you can go down and ask the minister’s wife, and be sure and say that we shall expect Mr. Fairbanks to tea. Then ask Neighbor Willis and her husband, and Mrs. Tuttle. I think that will be a pleasant number.”
“May I help quilt?” asked Faith.
“Of course you may. Tell Mrs. Tuttle to bring her daughter. And now, my dear, in what manner will you ask our friends to the quilting party and to tea?” asked Aunt Prissy, looking down at her little niece with her pretty smile.
“I shall rap at the minister’s door first, of course; and when Mrs. Fairbanks opens the door I shall make my best curtsy, like this:” and Faith took a bit of her skirt in each hand, and bent in a very pretty curtsy indeed; “and I shall say: ‘Good-morning, Mrs. Fairbanks. My Aunt Prissy will be very happy if you and the minister will come to her quilting bee to-morrow afternoon and stay to tea.’”
Aunt Prissy nodded approvingly. “I think that will do very nicely indeed. Now put on your things and run along. Donald is waiting.”
Donald and “Scotchie” were at the door when Faith was ready to start. The big dog barkedhis delight at being allowed to go with the children.
“I’d like to harness him to the sled; he could draw us both,” suggested Donald, but Faith was sure that “Scotchie” would upset the sled; so her cousin gave up the project.
“We can go on the lake just below Mrs. Tuttle’s house, and skate along the shore home; can’t we, Cousin Faith?” asked Donald, after they had stopped at Mrs. Willis’ house and that of the clergyman.
“Let’s call and get Louise,” suggested Faith.
“Oh, there won’t be time. Look, there goes an English soldier into the shoemaker’s now. The boys all say that the shoemaker is an English spy,” answered Donald.
They were nearly in front of Mr. Trent’s shop now, and Faith noticed that the soldier was the one who had been on the lake the previous day, and who had called her “a little rebel.”
“Come to the back door, Donald. Just a moment, while I speak to Louise. And make ‘Scotchie’ keep still,” said Faith, turning into the path leading to the back door.
“Scotchie” was barking fiercely as if he resented the sight of the redcoat.
The soldier turned quickly. “Stop that dog before I put a bullet into him,” he called.
“He’s afraid,” Donald whispered to Faith, with a word to “Scotchie,” and Faith ran up the path and entered the house.
Donald and “Scotchie” stood waiting, the dog growling now and then, whenever the soldier moved about on the door-step. It was evident that the shoemaker was not at home, for no answer came to the raps. In a moment Louise appeared at the door and told the man that her father was not at home.
“Send that boy with the dog about his business,” said the soldier.
“’Tis the public road, sir; and ’tis not likely he’d mind what I might say,” responded Louise smilingly, as she closed the door.
Donald rested his mittened hand on “Scotchie’s” head.
“You needn’t be afraid. I won’t let him hurt you,” Donald called.
The soldier came down the path scowling.
“I’ve a great mind to kick the beast,” he said.
“You’d better not,” said Donald.
Evidently the man agreed, for he went past as quickly as possible. Donald watched himwith a little scornful smile. The boy was not old enough to realize, as Faith did, the difference between these hired soldiers of England, and the brave Americans who were ready to undertake any sacrifice to secure the freedom of their country, but he was a brave boy, and thought poorly of this soldier’s courage.
Louise listened to Faith’s hurried account of the proposed quilting party.
“And you must come too, Louise,” she concluded, “and come early.”
Louise promised. She had never been to a quilting party, and was sure that it would be a great experience. She could not go to the lake, for she must not leave the house until her father returned.
When Faith rejoined Donald he told her of the soldier’s evident fear of the dog. “I don’t see what made ‘Scotchie’ growl so,” added Donald.
“I’m glad he did,” responded Faith. “Come on; let’s hurry, or we won’t have much time on the ice,” so off they went across the field.
But as they reached the shore they looked at each other questioningly. The lake seemed to be in the possession of the redcoats. At leasthalf the garrison of the fort were on the ice; skating, racing, and evidently enjoying themselves.
“We had better go home,” said Faith, and Donald made no objections. The two children, disappointed of their morning’s sport, went slowly back toward home.
“That’s the way they take everything,” declared Faith, renewing her promise to herself to try in some way to let Ethan Allen know how easy it would be to drive the English from Ticonderoga.
“I am glad you did not venture on the ice,” Aunt Prissy said when Donald and Faith told their story. “The English become less friendly every day. Well, we will not think of them when there is so much to do as we have before us.”
“I asked Louise to come to the quilting,” said Faith.
“That’s right; and I am going to send Donald to ask a number of your schoolmates to come in the evening. The moon will be full to light them home, and you children can have the kitchen to yourselves after supper, and make molasses candy,” said Aunt Prissy.
This seemed a very delightful idea to both Faith and Donald. The thought of making candy reminded Faith of Esther Eldridge, and of the bear’s sudden appearance at the kitchen door. Mr. Carew had promised Faith to ask Esther’s father to bring her to visit Faith on her return home, and Faith often thought of how much she and Esther would have to tell each other.
That afternoon Faith helped her Aunt Prissy in preparing for the quilting. Aunt Prissy was cooking a ham, and the brick oven held some of the spiced cakes that the children liked so well. Donald cracked a big dish full of hickory-nuts, while Faith rubbed the pewter plates and pitchers until they shone like silver. The two younger boys ran in and out of the kitchen, thinking a quilting party must be a great affair.
Mr. Scott had been cutting wood at the edge of the forest, and did not return until nearly dusk; and when he arrived there was a man with him—evidently a traveler, for there was a pack on his back, and he was tired. Faith heard her Aunt Prissy call the stranger by name, and welcome him.
“Why, it is Esther’s father. Of course it is!” she exclaimed suddenly.
Mr. Eldridge told her all about Esther, and promised that his little daughter should again visit the Wilderness cabin. Faith wondered what business it was that took Mr. Eldridge through the Wilderness and up and down the lakes. Long afterward she discovered that he was one of the trusted messengers of the American leaders, and through him the American settlers along the lake shores and through the New Hampshire Grants were kept informed of what the English were doing. She did not know that he underwent constant danger.
The little boys went early to bed that night, but Faith was not sleepy. The firelight in the sitting-room made dancing pictures on the wall, as she sat in a small chair at the end of the sofa. The sound of Aunt Prissy’s knitting needles made her think of the silvery tinkle of the mill-stream under the winter ice in her Wilderness home. Mr. Eldridge and her uncle were talking quietly. She heard her uncle say that: “Ticonderoga was the lock to the gate of the country,” and Mr. Eldridge respond that until Crown Point and Ticonderoga were takenby the Americans that none of the colonies could be safe.
“If there were any way to get into Fort Ticonderoga,” said Mr. Eldridge. “They say there’s a secret passageway.”
Faith was all attention at this. She quite forgot that she was listening to conversation not intended for her ears, as she heard her uncle answer:
“There is such a door, but no way for an American to find it. If some one could get entrance to the fort in that way, discover just the plan of the place, and escape, it would be of the greatest service to the Americans when the right time came to take the fort.”
“Time for bed, Faithie,” said Aunt Prissy, and, very reluctantly, the little girl went up-stairs. She was thinking of all that her uncle and Mr. Eldridge had said, and of the unguarded door opening on the cliff at the fort. She wondered if she could make her way up that steep cliff as easily as Nathan had declared he had so often done.
“Perhaps Nathan will help capture the fort,” she thought.“Anyway he could show the Green Mountain Boys the way. If I were at home I would put a note in that cave near Lake Dunmore and tell Ethan Allen about Nathan.”
Only Ethan Allen and a few of his friends knew of this mountain cave, and it was there messages were left for him by the men of the Wilderness.
Theguests for the quilting party arrived at an early hour in the afternoon. All that morning Faith and Aunt Prissy were busy. Dishes filled with red apples were brought up from the cellar; cakes were made ready, and the house in order before dinner time.
Only one little girl, Jane Tuttle, had been asked to come in the early afternoon. Jane was about Faith’s age, and at school they were in the same classes. She was not very tall, and was very fat. Jane was one of the children whom Caroline and Catherine Young had taken especial delight in teasing.