Part 9 (1/2)
Peering through the overhanging branches, Job saw a group of red-coated soldiers gathered on the other sh.o.r.e, and presently saw a boat putting out from it.
”Looka here,” said he sternly, as he c.o.c.ked his piece and aimed upward; ”I don't want tu be obleeged tu hurt you, but stop yer hollerin' an'
come right down.”
”Me no onstan', Ah tol' you! h.e.l.lo-.” The l.u.s.ty hail was cut short by the report of the long smooth-bore. The Canadian's cap went spinning from his head, and he came scrambling down in a haste that threatened to leave half his clothes behind.
”Ah comin'! Ah comin'! Don't shot some more!” he cried in a voice trembling with fright.
Job arrested his descent till his gun was reloaded; then, when his captive slid to the ground, he quickly tied his hands behind with a fathom of cord, one end of which he held. Then he removed the woolen sash from the Canadian's waist and bound it about his mouth.
A glance upon the lake showed the boat half-way across, and approaching as fast as two pairs of oars could impel it. Job hurried his man into an evergreen thicket some twenty yards away, and, leaving him tied to a tree in charge of the hound, he stealthily returned to ascertain if possible whether the nature of the alarm had been comprehended by the soldiers. The boat drew rapidly toward the place where he lay concealed, and, at a little distance, the occupants lay upon their oars while they held consultation, so near that he could hear every word of it.
”Well, boys,” said the sergeant in command, ”whathiver it was, Hi don't hear nothink more of it. But Hi'll 'ail the sh.o.r.e. 'Ello there, whathiver is the row?” An answer was silently awaited till the echoes died away.
”Ah't was some o' thim Yankee divils huntin' just,” said one of the soldiers, ”and that's all about it. Divil a word could I make out but the dog yowlin' an' a man phillalooin', an' thin the shot. They kilt whativer they was at an' thin wint away.”
”Hi believe you're right, Murphy, an' we'll no bother to go ash.o.r.e, but just pull back and report to the captain,” and off went the boat to the western sh.o.r.e.
With a sigh of relief Job sped back to his prisoner, to whom he motioned the homeward way, and set forth with him in front at a break-neck pace, which was occasionally quickened by a punch of the gun muzzle in the rear, and so was the captive driven to the camp.
Ticonderoga's evening gun had long since boomed its vesper thunder, and the shadows of evening were thickening into night in the forest, when Job emerged from them into the glare of the camp fire with his hound and prisoner, and received the warm commendations of Allen and his a.s.sociates for his promptly and skilfully performed exploit.
”I don't claim no credit for't. It was all Gabe's doin's, an' if I'd left him tied up to hum as I laid out to, our cake would all 'a' ben dough.”
”Here, Newton, here's your man. Put him under guard with that Tory, Toombs,” said Allen.
A tall man of n.o.ble, commanding presence, but of a quiet, modest mien, stooped to caress the hound. ”Why,” he said, ”it's one of Sunderland's dogs, that haven't their equal in New England.”
”You've got an eye for houn' dogs, Capt'n Warner. He sartain is one o'
them dogs an'll foller anything he's told to, though 't ain't no gre't trick to track a Canuck more'n an Injin. They're both strong-scented critters.”
CHAPTER XV-LEADERS AND GUIDE
Even while Nathan watched Gabe and his master depart into the forest southward, he became aware the a.s.semblage was moved by some new object of interest. Turning, he saw Colonel Allen and another gentleman, eagle-eyed, eagle-beaked, in handsome military dress, talking angrily in the midst of an excited group. At length Allen turned his pa.s.sionate face toward the men and called in a loud voice:
”Men, fall in for a moment. Here,” waving his hand toward his companion, as the men rapidly fell into line, ”is Mr. Benedict Arnold. He bears a colonel's commission from the Connecticut Committee of Safety, and claims the right to command you to-night. Men of the Green Mountains, whom do you follow-Arnold or Allen?”
”Allen, Allen,” came in response, loud and decided.
The chosen chief turned a triumphant smile upon his rival, who strode away in silence of restrained pa.s.sion. Soon returning, however, he addressed Allen in a clear, steady voice:
”Sir, I submit to the will of these men, but let me be a volunteer in this glorious enterprise. The Green Mountain Boys and their famous leader are too generous to refuse this.”
Allen, touched at a vulnerable point, grasped the speaker's hand heartily and answered:
”Indeed, so brave a man as I well know you to be, is most welcome, and, by the Great Jehovah, if the men don't object, you shall be second in command.”
A shout of approval went up from the men, who gathered around their camp fires again, while Allen and Arnold, together with Warner, walked apart in amicable consultation. Soon the first called loudly for any information concerning a lad named Nathan Beeman. At the sound of his name, Nathan started, blushed, hesitated, and then stepped bashfully forward, and was quickly recognized by Allen in spite of his added stature.
”Here, this is the youngster, Colonel Arnold, that Mr. John Brown tells of in this paper, whom he saw and conversed with last winter about Ticonderoga.”