"Colonel, an army is approaching."
Ethan Allen at once thought that a regiment of English was about to try and wrest the fort from him.
He was agreeably disappointed when he saw that the men were his own Green Mountain Boys, led by Seth Warner.
Warner had been doing good work in Vermont, and, finding it advantageous to join his chief, he had marched his men to Ticonderoga.
A warm welcome was accorded the captain and his men, and Allen at once gave the command of the operations against Crown Point to Seth Warner.
The fortifications at Crown Point were erected at a cost of ten million dollars, and up to that time had never a shot been fired from them.
Trusting to the strength of the stone barracks and the extensive earthworks, England had kept only a small force at the fort, and at the time of the capture of Ticonderoga only a sergeant and twelve men composed the garrison.
Seth Warner was delighted at the honor conferred upon him by his chief.
Ethan Allen had a reason for keeping as strong a garrison at Ticonderoga as possible, for he feared that Delaplace might try to escape and perhaps recapture the fort.
Arnold was surly. He thought that Allen had lost confidence in him, but Allen reasoned the matter with his Connecticut hero, and satisfied him that no insult was intended.
Crown Point is about eleven miles north of Ticonderoga. The town itself lies six miles away from the fort.
Seth Warner started on his march, his men highly elated at the prospect of winning renown.
When about halfway they were met by a man dressed in the garb of a monk.
He carried a crucifix and a long staff.
His hair was white, and a long beard, which reached nearly to his waist, was as white as driven snow.
Waving his staff above his head, he called to the soldiers to stop.
Warner had no great liking for monks, though he was honest enough to respect every man's religion.
"What is it you would have, good father?" asked Warner.
"In the name of the ever true and good, I crave your assistance, and, if you will grant it, I will give you my blessing, which is better than rubies and more valuable than gold."
"In what way can we assist you, good father?"
"You are soldiers of liberty. Heaven will bless your swords, and you will live to see the flag of the tyrant go down in the dust, and a flag of a free nation will float over a free people. I am not allowed to fight, or I would gird on a sword and smite me right and left until the friends of the tyrant were all beneath the sod!"
"We thank you for your patriotic exhortation, but we have a mission to fulfill and we must not loiter."
"The mission is one which will not fail; I know that you have captured the strong fort at Ticonderoga, and that you will enter within the fortifications of Crown Point, but will you assist me?"
"What would you have us do?"
"To the east of you, one mile and one hundred yards, stands a house. It is a farmhouse. Its owner is no friend of the Provincials, and has a captive whom he holds for ransom."
"A captive? Held for ransom? Explain yourself!"
"This farmer, fearing that the English might be driven out of the country and that he would lose his possessions, because he is a great worker for the enemy, did find a young girl, who was related to one of the leaders of your holy cause, and he lured her into his house and holds her as a hostage. Should the Provincials take possession of his farm, he will kill the girl, so he says, and a man's word should be believed, and therefore I did make a vow to rescue this maiden from the grasp of the ungodly and restore her to her friends."
"Where did you say the farm was?"
"Tarry not, I beseech you, but travel to the east one mile and one hundred yards, and you will come to a snake fence; cross the field and you will see a house with a number of vines growing up its sides. Then ask for Farmer Mervale, and you have the man who dares to imprison one of the maidens the Lord loves."
Warner consulted with his friends, and they agreed that it would be well to rescue the maiden.
"You will go with us?" asked Warner.
"Nay, my duty lies in another direction."
The monk started away in an opposite direction to that which he had directed the army to take, and was soon lost to sight.
Then the men began to discuss his appearance and story.
"I do not believe him," said one.
"Yet he is a religious man, and therefore his word should be believed."
"He may be a spy."
"But why should he direct us to the farm?"
"The English may be in ambush."
"Then we must go, for, being forewarned we are forearmed, and shall gain a victory."
This idea prevailed, and the Mountain Boys commenced their march to the east.
When a mile had been traversed, as near as they could guess, Warner sent a scout forward to reconnoiter.
He returned quickly and said that there was no sign of an ambush, but the snake fence was there and the vine-covered house also.
"Go forward, Letsom, and find out all you can about the farmer and his household."
The man was an excellent fellow for such a purpose, though Seth Warner expressed a wish that Eben had been there, so that he might have gone.
Letsom returned an hour later.
"Farmer Mervale is a bitter Britisher," he reported, "and told me that if any of the rebels came to his house he would know how to deal with them. I asked him what he would do, and he replied that he would ask them to dine and would poison their soup."
"The villain!"
"He further said that every rebel, as he called us, should be shot like a rat."
"He is quite strong in his views."
"Yes, and one of his farm hands told me that a mad monk had been there, and it would be a wonder if he were alive on the morrow."
"A mad monk, said he?"
"Yes, those were his words—a mad monk."
"Boys, you have heard the report; shall we beard this Britisher in his home and find out if any maiden is imprisoned by him?"
A loud shout of assent rose from the Mountain Boys, and almost before it died away the men were on the march.
Farmer Mervale was at the door, an old musket in his hand, waiting for the "rebels."
"In the name of the king, what do you want here?"
Seth Warner answered:
"In the name of the Colonial Congress I demand the surrender of this house for the purpose of a search."
"Search! for what?"
"Guns, ammunition or anything that may be useful to the cause of liberty."
"Thieves! Whoever passes this door will have to do it over my dead body."
"Farmer Mervale, we mean you no harm if you are innocent, but if you are guilty then you must bear the punishment."
"Of what do you accuse me?"
Warner was about to equivocate and say that he believed arms were secreted on the premises, but he was too open for subterfuge, so he replied:
"We charge you with abducting and imprisoning a young maiden——"
"Ah! you have seen the mad monk?"
"Answer. Have you any maiden imprisoned on your premises?"
"If I had I should deny it, and if I have not I should still say that you are impertinent and a rebel who ought to be shot down."
The farmer had his weapon pointed at Warner and was about to shoot him, when his arm was knocked up from behind and the ball passed over his intended victim's head.
Instantly the man was seized and bound.
The musket had been seized by the hired hand, who had been the cause of the farmer's intention being frustrated.
"If you will let me join you I will fight for the cause of liberty," the man said, very earnestly.
"You must report to Col. Allen at Ticonderoga."
"I will go at once."
"Better stay with us and return when we do; we can vouch for your good act."
The farmer changed his tone when he was bound and therefore helpless. He cried out for mercy, declared that all he had said was in a joking sense, and that he hoped the Provincials would win in their fight against England.
"You coward!" hissed Warner. "I have a great mind to shoot you as an example and a warning to others."
"Spare me! I am old and——"
"Old? Why, man, you cannot be forty. Search the house!"
In a few minutes the searchers returned, leading Martha Baker, who was almost too weak to stand unsupported.
"Oh, Master Warner, I am so glad you came. I think I should have died if I had stayed another day in this horrid house."
"Tell me your story, Martha."
"I was sent by my aunt to Farmer Mervale to arrange for an exchange of eggs. You see, aunt had a lot of hen's eggs and Farmer Mervale had a lot of duck's eggs, and the two wanted to exchange. When I reached here the farmer asked me my name, and then if I was any relation of Remember Baker, and I told him that I was his sister. Then he asked me to go upstairs to help count the eggs. I did so, and the farmer told me that he was going to keep me there, because if my brother attempted to do anything to his brother, who was a soldier in Ticonderoga, he would kill me. Then he tortured me by saying that he would poison some soup and invite the rebels to dinner with him, and that when they had all eaten heartily he would kill me before their eyes."
The farmer heard the girl's statement, and, instead of denying it, declared it was all a joke, which, perhaps, it was, but it was cruel, and the perpetrator of such a joke deserved punishment.
Warner ordered his men to strip the farmer to the waist and introduce him to the "birch dance," as summary punishment was called.
Fifty good, sharp strokes across the bare back with strong beechen sticks made Farmer Mervale wish he had been less fond of joking and illegally imprisoning a girl.
Martha told how she had seen the monk, and had called to him through the open window, telling him how she had been served, and also asking him to let the Mountain Boys know of her detention.
How well the eccentric monk had fulfilled his mission we have seen.
It was rather late in the afternoon when the strong fort at Crown Point was reached.
Seth Warner called to the sentinel who stood guard at the gate.
"Tell your commander that I must see him at once."
"I cannot leave my post."
"Spoken like a brave soldier. Surrender!"
"To whom?"
"To the army of the Continental Congress."
"I am a soldier of the king, and to no one else will I surrender my gun, except my superior so wills it."
"Brave soldier. I shall be under the necessity of taking the gun away from you by force."
The man fired the musket in the air.
That was a signal for the garrison to assemble.
Seeing a hundred men with Warner, the sergeant quickly raised the white flag, and so, without the shedding of a drop of blood, two of the strongest forts on Lake Champlain passed into the hands of the brave men who were fighting for the liberty of their native land.
A garrison was left in charge of Crown Point, and then Warner marched back to Ticonderoga.
Remember Baker was full of gratitude for the rescue of his sister, and would have liked to meet Farmer Mervale at that hour, for the farmer had got off too easily, he thought.
Within five days of the capture of Ticonderoga, the Green Mountain Boys, under the command of Capt. Herrick, had captured Skenesborough, while another detachment under Capt. Douglass had taken Panton, a strong fort on the lake.
As the Assembly of Connecticut had authorized the capture of Fort Ticonderoga, Allen dispatched two trusty messengers to New Haven to acquaint the governor and assembly.
So that no unfairness could be charged, the two selected were Eli Forest and Remember Baker.
Ethan Allen was seated in his room in the barracks alone smoking a corncob pipe, a favorite with him and most Green Mountain farmers.
A timid knock was heard at the door, and Allen called out cheerily:
"Come in!"
The door opened and Eben entered.
"Why, Eben, you are a stranger; where have you been?"
"In the fort, colonel, almost a prisoner."
"A prisoner?"
"Yes, colonel. That man—pardon me, I mean Col. Arnold—has told me to keep to my own quarters and not move about the fort until I am ordered."
"By what authority?"
"He says he is commander of the fort and will not have me spying round; that is what he calls it."
"I am commander here, and I expect you to obey me."
"Yes, colonel. Did you know that the colonel—Arnold, I mean—is arranging to send ammunition to New Haven?"
"No."
"I heard him give the order."
"You did?"
"Yes, colonel."
"Is Martha Baker still in the fort?"
"Yes, colonel; and I think she would like to stay here until her brother can look after her."
"And you would not object to her staying?"
"No; why should I?"
"I thought that you liked her society."
"So I do, colonel, when I can see her, but Col. Arnold has kept her pretty close in the room which was assigned her."
It was the end of May, and Ethan Allen was waiting news from Boston.
News had just reached him that the Continental Congress, sitting in Philadelphia, had drawn up articles of confederation, and that those articles had been signed by the representatives of thirteen colonies.
And the news also came that on the same day the people of North Carolina had held a convention at Charlotte and declared themselves independent of the British crown, and that they had organized a local government and pledged themselves to raise and equip an army.
This was pleasing news, but Allen wanted to hear more from Boston.
The information conveyed to him by Eben was disquieting.
Was it possible that Benedict Arnold was taking things into his own hands and acting without consulting him?
He sent for Arnold.
"Well, sir, you wished to see me?"
"Yes, colonel; I wanted to know if it were true that you had arranged to send a portion of our cannon and ammunition to New Haven?"
"It is quite true."
"Why did you not consult me?"'
"It was not necessary."
"I am commander here."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Allen."
Allen passed over the insulting way in which Benedict Arnold addressed him, and very calmly replied:
"You came to me as a volunteer, and I accepted your services and those of your men."
"Quite true."
"Since when, then, have you been given the command?"
"It is time, Mr. Allen, that we should understand each other. I am a commissioned colonel. I bear that rank according to the laws of my colony, Connecticut. Moreover, I was commissioned a colonel by the Provincial Assembly at Cambridge. You hold no rank except that given you by some farmers who have not even the right to elect a representative, but are only squatters on land belonging either to New Hampshire or New York. When the fort was captured it became a military necessity that some one should be in command who would have power to treat with the enemy, and, as you were only—well, a Green Mountain Boy, the command fell upon me."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, and I was thinking of asking you to retire, as your plebeian conduct with the men is apt to injure discipline, and so demoralize the small army."
"You are very considerate."
"It is my duty. I shall take care that your bravery shall be acknowledged."
"Thank you!"
"I must confess that for one who has had no military training you have behaved wonderfully well. The thanks of Connecticut will be awarded to you in due season, and I will see that whatever personal expense you may have been put to shall be reimbursed to you out of the amount voted by the assembly."
"And I suppose you wish the Green Mountain Boys to leave the same time you desire me to go?"
"No, we have need of men. I shall call them all together and ask them to volunteer as soldiers in the new Continental army, and the officers shall retain the rank they hold at present."
"You have developed the plan very fully."
"Yes, and believe me, Mr. Allen, that I only wish that I could ask you to volunteer; you see yourself that it would be impossible."
"Yes, it would."
"Having been the commander, it would be humiliating for you to accept a lower rank, and besides, the men might think you had a right to give general orders, and thus there would be confusion."
"You are right."
"When can you be ready to leave?"
"I do not know."
"What do you say to the first of June?"
"It depends."
"On what? I will give you an escort."
"When I leave I will arrange for my own escort, should I need one. But it was not of that I was thinking."
"Of what, then?"
"The return of the messengers from New Haven."
"That need not bother you. The report will be made to me, as commanding officer."
"Will it?"
"Certainly, so you can arrange to leave on the first of the month."
"Thank you."
"That is settled, then?"
"Is it?"
"Yes. I am very glad, for I have had a very unpleasant task."
Allen had remained so calm that Arnold was deceived.
He staggered like a drunken man when Allen turned on him, and, in tones which could not be misunderstood, said:
"I have heard all you have to say, and I now tell you that in the name of the Great Jehovah I shall remain here as long as I please, or until the general of the Continental Congress removes me, and, what is more, I shall remain in command, and if you dare to interfere with me or my command, by the Great Jehovah I will send you to Philadelphia in irons! You are removed from all responsibility until further orders. Go, or I may forget myself!"
Benedict Arnold had found his master.
This man, whose ambition was colossal, had imagined that the Green Mountain farmer would quail before him and surrender the command.
Arnold's ambition was plausible. What could a farmer know of military affairs? True, Arnold had been a merchant, but then he had studied at Yale and had made military subjects his special forte, and he had been complimented by soldiers of high repute.
Then, had not the English Capt. Delaplace told him he should be a general, and if he remained with the colonies he should have the command of all the forces the young nation could put into the field?
All this had made him believe himself a great man.
But he had encountered a greater.
Ethan Allen, mountaineer, farmer, amateur soldier, as Arnold had called him, proved to be the superior of the polished Yale graduate.
Arnold retired to his quarters, feeling very glum.
Allen sent for Seth Warner. He wanted some one on whom he could rely.
He told Warner what had happened, and the honest Vermonter suggested that Arnold should be placed under arrest and tried by court-martial.
But such a course Allen would not countenance. He felt that Arnold was not dangerous, and that he could afford to leave him to his own conscience.
"I hear that cannon and ammunition was about to be shipped to New Haven?"
"Yes, colonel; most of the spoil was to be sent there. We all thought that it was by your order."
"Zounds, man! I never heard of it until young Eben told me just now."
"We all thought that he was obeying your instructions, and, therefore, why should we come and tell you?"
"That is so. Do not allow one gun to leave the fort."
Eben entered the room, and was out of breath.
"What is it, Eben?"
"If you please—I—have—news——"
"What is it?"
"I—have been—across—the lake. I——"
"Sit down and get your breath; you will be able to talk plainer. No danger threatens us?"
"No—I—don't think so."
Eben fanned himself and gradually became calmer. But he was so eager to tell his news that he could not wait long enough to be quite coherent.
"News from Boston," he jerked out; and at once Ethan Allen was as much excited as Eben.
"What news? Who brought it? Quick, Eben; don't you see how anxious I am to hear all about it?"
"All the English army has landed at Boston, and they have hanged the men we loved. At least, I think so; I was in so great a hurry that I did not wait to hear all."
"Who brought the news?"
"No one yet. They are riding like the mischief, but I jumped in my boat and paddled across, and then ran like the wind to be first. They are here now."
Two men were admitted into the presence of Ethan Allen and Seth Warner.
After the usual salutes and the presentation of a short letter from Sam Adams, telling Allen that he could believe all the men told him, they were asked to tell their story.
"On the twenty-fifth we saw the great gunboats and the men-of-war in the harbor getting ready for some move. We wondered what they could be doing, but only for a few minutes, for we saw other vessels moving into the harbor, and then the cannon belched forth in salute. The noise deafened us, and the jarring broke lots of windows. We soon knew that ten thousand men had arrived in the harbor, and that England was going to crush us——"
"You mean to try and crush us."
"Yes. Three generals had come over with reinforcements; they were Howe, Clinton and Burgoyne. Gage was like a mad creature. He danced and shouted like a boy getting an unexpected vacation. Then he said he would hang Adams and Hancock with his own hands on Boston Common, but Burgoyne stopped him and suggested trying an offer of pardon——"
"Of pardon?"
"Yes. There is a proclamation signed by Gage, offering pardon to all who will surrender and acknowledge that they have done wrong, except Samuel Adams and John Hancock, and these are said to be guilty of treason and must die; that is, when Gage catches them."
"Well, what say the people?"
"That we will fight it out."
"Good!"
"And that if Adams and Hancock are traitors, so are they all."
"Well?"
"Gage heard of the defiance, and at once gave notice that he should sally out of Boston and burn all the neighboring towns and devastate the country."
"He did, eh?"
"Yes, and the people say they will give him a warm reception."
"Warner, shall we join the men at Boston?"
"You are commissioned to hold Ticonderoga," said the messenger, "and so prevent the British using it against us."
"That we will do. Warner, give orders that all the cannon and the ammunition we can spare be sent as rapidly as possible to the patriots. We must help them all we can."
"That is the right way to talk, colonel; I feel ever so much better now; there is a rope ready for my neck if I fail."
The messengers who brought the news from the patriots of Massachusetts were entertained right royally, and took back with them a good impression of Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys.
But it was not an opinion only that they took back with them, for they had an escort of fifty men, and with them were twenty heavy cannon, with good ammunition, and a promise of as many more heavy guns as soon as horses could be procured to haul them.
"Tell Gen. Gage, if you see him," said Allen, "that the rope which he has for Sam Adams must be long enough and strong enough for Ethan Allen and his Mountain Boys, for they will never surrender as long as they have strength to shoulder a musket or draw a sword."
The day after the men left for Boston a letter from the governor of New Hampshire was received by Allen, ordering him to return home and lay down his sword.
To this letter Allen replied:
"I will gladly lay down my sword, for I hate fighting, but cannot do so until England recognizes the independence of the colonies or until the people themselves have concluded an honorable peace with Great Britain."
Arnold contrived to send a letter to New Hampshire and one to New Haven, in which he reported the "treachery and tyranny of the man Ethan Allen."
There is no proof that either of the recipients did anything save throw the letters into the fire.
On the following day Baker and Forest returned from New Haven, bearing with them the thanks of the colony to Col. Ethan Allen and Col. Benedict Arnold. The latter containing the thanks of the assembly, engrossed on parchment and sealed with the seal of the colony, placed Allen in the first place, and only mentioned Arnold as a coadjutor.
The two emissaries were escorted to Ticonderoga by Col. Hinman and a regiment of Connecticut soldiers.
Hinman was commissioned to aid Allen in any way that he could, and to act under his direction.
Allen, however, determined on a wider field for himself and men than merely remaining as a garrison of a fort, with the mild excitement of an occasional scrimmage with the enemy when out on a foraging expedition, so he handed over the forts to Col. Hinman, taking a receipt for the same.
That curious old document is perhaps the only one in existence of the kind, for it is a receipt for the delivery of the forts of Ticonderoga, Crown Point and Skenesburgh, and is made out much in the same way as a receipt for a few dollars would be.
Arnold was to remain with Hinman for a time, but with the lower rank of major.
With only a small number of followers, including Seth Warner, Remember Baker, Eben Pike and twenty trusty mountaineers, Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga, left the fort and proceeded to Albany.
It was a daring thing to do, but Ethan Allen thought only of his country, and how to benefit the national cause.
The proclamation offering a large reward for him, dead or alive, was still to be seen on the public buildings of the towns and villages through which he passed.
Though every one knew him, for his identity could not be concealed, he was as safe as in his mountain home.
The people of New York were ready to cast in their lot with the colonies which had declared their independence, and, though nominally loyal to England, the Yorkers were only waiting an opportunity to openly throw off the yoke and declare themselves independent.
"The Hero of Ticonderoga," as Allen was called everywhere, was lionized by the people, though those in authority were compelled to appear as though they did not recognize him.
When Allen reached Albany he at once went to the Assembly Hall.
Marching up to the speaker's desk he said, in a loud voice:
"I am Ethan Allen, leader of the Green Mountain Boys, and I have come, not to surrender to you or to lower my claims to the lands in the New Hampshire grants, which we now call Vermont, but to ask you to listen to a plan by which our country may become a nation, free and independent."
"I propose that the assembly go into secret session to hear the Hero of Ticonderoga."
The speaker was one who had been most bitter against Allen when he had appeared there sometime before to argue in favor of the men of Vermont.
"Let it be understood that New York, in listening to Ethan Allen, does not relinquish its claims to the lands which he culls Vermont."
"That matter can well be left in abeyance," said Allen. "There is a greater one—that of our independence as a nation."
"On that subject we will hear you!"
"I ask that the proceedings shall be secret."
"That is understood."
Ethan Allen, with a natural eloquence and rugged fervor, laid before the representatives of the people a plan for the invasion of Canada.
He showed how, with daring and quickness, the country north of the St. Lawrence could be captured, thereby inflicting an injury on the British, and taking from them a large tract of country, which could be made so valuable an adjunct of the colonies south of the St. Lawrence when they became independent.
He had gathered information which showed how easily all Canada could be captured, save, perhaps, the citadel of Quebec.
He was listened to patiently. He was cheered when he spoke of the gallant attack on Quebec by Wolfe and the heroic defense of the French general, Montcalm; and tears rolled down many cheeks when he recalled how the French hero, wounded unto death, expressed a pleasure that he should not live to witness the surrender of Quebec.
Then, with solemn voice, he told how the English had but a small garrison at the citadel, and how it could be taken unawares and maybe captured as easily as Ticonderoga.
In one thing did Ethan Allen fail.
He hinted that perhaps the French Canadians would help the Yorkers and participate in the driving out of the British from North America.
We say that was a mistake, because the people still remember the great struggle against the French, and the fierce war between the colonies acknowledging England and France.
One man, afterward one of the foremost to welcome Lafayette to New York, declared that it would be better to be the slaves of England than the friends of France.
"Better serfdom, degradation, death under England's flag than liberty if obtained by the assistance of France."
His fiery speech turned the tide of feeling against Ethan Allen and the invasion of Canada, and the assembly absolutely refused to listen any further to Allen.
Some were ungenerous enough to taunt him with suggesting the plan on purpose to save himself from arrest.
Others wanted to know if he expected to be the general commanding.
"No, I should have asked permission to join as a private soldier, for I have no ambition to command even a squad."
"What, then, was your object?"
"I live to serve my country; I hope to see her free and independent."
Saying which, he left the hall, and his Mountain Boys were downhearted at the treatment he had received.
"Shall we return to our mountains?" asked Baker.
"No; at least I shall not. I shall journey to Philadelphia and see what the Continental Congress is doing."
"We will go with you."
"I shall be glad of your company, though maybe you have more urgent matters at home to attend to."
"That was unkind, colonel," Seth Warner murmured.
"I meant it not so, believe me. I know that all of you are ready to serve your country."
Albany was left behind and the party started south for Philadelphia.
After a long march a place of rest was sought.
It was nothing unusual for a semi-military company to be on the march, and so the party did not attract any extraordinary attention.
A farmhouse seemed best suited for the refreshment and rest required, and one was found which seemed to answer all purposes.
Warner went forward to interview the farmer, and soon returned with the pleasing news that the party could have supper, rest for the night, and breakfast in the morning for a most moderate sum.
The farmer was hospitable.
He killed some chickens and a young pig, and in a very short time the odor of cooking was very appetizing.
After supper the farmer insisted on bringing out several flagons of good cider, strong and old, for it was the last year's make.
Song and story enlivened the evening.
Warner told of the days when he had hunted the wild bear and met with some startling adventures.
Baker recounted many a stirring episode in the life of a hunter, and Allen, who passed under an assumed name, kept up the interest by narrating a story of ancient knighthood.
"Seems to me that there are as great heroes to-day as in olden times," the farmer remarked.
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Now, in the troubles we are just encountering, there will be opportunities for heroism."
"Yes, and many a brave boy will sleep in a nameless grave."
"That is true; but if we get rid of England's rule and that of the tones, these same boys will rest well in their graves."
"You seem to think the patriots are right."
"I know they are, and I tell you, my masters, that as long as I have a stalk of corn on my farm I'll divide it with any boy who fights against the oppressor."
"Bravo! but methinks the people round about do not think as you do."
"Many are afraid to speak, because, if they did, and the English were successful, they would be made to suffer; and if the patriots win, as I am sure they will, then the silent man may be counted a patriot."
"Very wisely stated."
"My idea of a great man is——"
The farmer paused.
"Excuse me, I thought I heard some one at the window. No, I was wrong, and yet I could have sworn I saw a face as I looked up."
"You were saying that your ideal of a man was——"
"Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga. I tell you, he is right all the time. He was right about those land grants. If the land had been of no value New Hampshire might have had all the land, but because it proved rich, of course York coveted it."
"Have you ever seen Ethan Allen?" Warner asked.
"No. I would give half my farm to do so."
"You needn't do that. Look at him; that is the hero of Ticonderoga, and I am Seth Warner who tells you so."
The farmer was overjoyed, and became so excited that he shouted and danced with joy.
There was a sudden stop put to his merriment. Something fell over outside the window.
"I could have sworn it before, but now I know some one was there. That milk can could not fall down without hands. I'll find the scurvy wretch and thrash him into sense!"
The milk can had been thrown down, but no one was in sight, and after a search the party returned to the large kitchen, where they again replenished their glasses with cider.
In an interval of the fraternal mirth Eben got close to Allen and asked him to spare a few moments.
"What is it, Eben?"
"I like it not, colonel. Some one was at that window at the time you were discovered, and the knocking over of the milk can was an accident; the man who did it has gone to find some English who will pay well for your capture."
"You are too suspicious, Eben."
"Perhaps so, colonel, but do be careful."
"I will. I have no desire to get into any jail, and I am sure that I like life too well to risk it needlessly."
It was after ten o'clock, a late hour in those days, before the farmer would listen to any suggestion of retiring for the night.
He wanted Allen to sleep in the house—the others were to occupy the hay loft—but Allen declared that he would share the loft with his friends, and that no man should say that he had accepted better treatment than his followers.
As it was impossible for all to stay in the house, the farmer gave way and allowed Allen to share the hay loft.
It was a happy party that climbed up the stairs into the place, where the sweet odor of the hay created a desire for sleep.
In less than ten minutes the hay had been too much for them, and all were asleep.
No, not all, for Eben only pretended to sleep; he was wide awake, for he feared treachery, and determined to be on the alert.
The boy was a natural wonder. He never knew what it was to be tired. He could march farther than most men, eat less and do without sleep, and never did he appear to be the least wearied.
The hour of midnight had passed and the early morning, according to the manner of marking time, had commenced; in other words, it was one o'clock when Eben fancied he heard a slight noise.
He was in a position where he could see everything outside, and as the moon was shining brightly he was not long in discerning a number of men moving toward the barn.
He crawled across to Ethan and gently shook him.
"Colonel, we are betrayed."
Allen was about to jump, when Eben whispered:
"Lie still or you will be seen; the loft door is open. I can wake the others, and would it not be well to let them come right up into the loft before we strike?"
"Eben, you ought to be a general. Wake the others and caution them to lie still."
The boy crawled round the loft and quickly did his work.
When Ethan knew that all were awake he spoke in a loud whisper to them:
"Eben has suggested a plan of campaign and I shall adopt it. We must all pretend to be asleep. Let the English enter the loft, and, when the opportunity arises, let the English be on the ground and the patriots above them."
Every man lay perfectly still, and it really seemed as though Eben had been mistaken, for the time was so long before any attempt was made to enter the loft.
Eben knew all that was transpiring. He saw a man's head rise above the floor and look around, and then he heard the man descend the ladder.
It was fully five minutes after he had reached the ground before he again ascended.
The man crawled along the floor and lay perfectly still.
Another, then another, ascended the ladder, until a dozen soldiers in uniform were in the loft.
Eben was not the only one who had watched their movements, for each of the Mountain Boys had one eye sufficiently open to see them.
A rustling of the hay was the signal given by the sergeant for the English to rise.
Each man rose to his feet and stood over the apparently sleeping colonials.
But no sooner had the enemy taken its position than the mountaineers put out their hands suddenly and grasped the soldiers by the legs.
In an instant every soldier was on his back, thrown to the floor with a violence which he did not relish.
And over each man stood one of the mountaineers, ready to blow out the soldier's brains did he attempt to move.
"Get up!" commanded Allen.
Each man rose, looking very sheepish.
"Hand over your guns and other weapons."
The soldiers obeyed. Not because they desired to do so, but at each man's head was a pistol, and in each pistol was a bullet which meant a nameless grave for the man who received it.
The captured men were made to descend the ladder, but no chance of escape was given them, for at the foot of the ladder stood some of the Mountain Boys, ready to fire if necessary.
There was a coil of rope in the barn, and this Allen utilized in securing the prisoners in a novel fashion. He ordered the men to be tied in couples, the right leg of one to the left leg of his mate, after the fashion of a three-legged race. Then the couples were united by a rope which wound round their arms and passed from one couple to another, to prevent the party separating.
Warner roused the farmer, and that man was so indignant that he proposed shooting each of the prisoners.
"No, no," said Allen, "they only obeyed orders. I shall let them go this time, if they will tell me the name of the informer."
The English soldiers were loyal and refused to purchase their release on such terms.
After an early breakfast Allen was ready to resume his journey, and he ordered the prisoners to march before him.
When the farm had been left behind a distance of a mile, he told the prisoners they were free to go where they liked, but as a precaution against being followed, he did not unfasten them, knowing that it might be hours before they succeeded in getting loose.