CHAPTER V
THE PIONEER HOME
Enoch arrived feeling not of half so much importance as he had onstarting from the Breckenridge farm. His adventure with Crow Wing hadmightily taken down his self-conceit. Like most of the settlers he hadvery little confidence in the Indian character; so, although Crow Winghad rendered the defenders of the Grants a signal service that very day,Enoch was not at all sure that the red youth was not helping theYorkers, too.
But when he came out of the wood at the edge of the great corn-fieldwhich his father had cleared first of all, and saw the light of thecandles shining through the doorway of the log house, he forgot hisrecent rage against Crow Wing and hurried on to greet those whom heloved. The children came running out to meet him and the light of thecandles was shrouded as his mother's tall form appeared in the doorway.Bryce, who was eleven years old, was almost as tall as Enoch, althoughhe lacked his elder brother's breadth of shoulders and gravity ofmanner. Enoch was deliberate in everything he did; Bryce was of a morenervous temperament and was apt to act upon impulse. He was afair-haired boy and was forever smiling. Now he reached Nuck first andfairly hugged him around the neck, exclaiming:
"We thought you were shot! However came you to be so long comin' back,Nuck? Mother's quite worritted 'bout you, she says."
Katie, the fly-away sister of ten, hurled herself next upon her elderbrother and seized the heavy rifle from his hands. "Look out for it,Kate!" commanded Nuck. "It's been freshly primed." But Katie was notafraid of firearms. She shouldered the gun and marched bravely towardthe house. Mary, demure and curly headed, and little Harry, remainednearer the door, and lifted their faces to be kissed in turn by Enochwhen he arrived. Then the boy turned to his mother.
"Come in, my son," she said. "I have saved your supper for you. I couldnot send the children to bed before you came. They were a-well nigh wildto see you and hear about the doings at farmer Breckenridge's. You arelate."
This was all she said regarding his tardiness at the moment. She was avery pleasant featured woman of thirty-five, with kind eyes and acheery, if grave, smile; but Enoch knew she could be stern enough ifoccasion required. Indeed, she was a far stricter disciplinarian thanhis father had been. They crowded into the house and Mrs. Harding wentto the fire and hung the pot over the glowing coals to heat again thestewed venison which she had saved for Enoch's supper.
"Tell us about it, Enoch, my son," she said. "Did the Yorkers come asfriend Bolderwood said they would--in such numbers?"
"In greater numbers," declared the boy, and he went on to recount theincidents of the morning when Sheriff Ten Eyck had demanded thesurrender of the Breckenridge house and farm. The incident had appealedstrongly to the boy and he drew a faithful picture of the scene when thearmy of Yorkers marched up to the farmhouse door and demanded admission.
"And Mr. Allen was there and spoke to me--he did!" declared Enoch. "He'sa master big man--and so handsome. He asked me if I remembered hiscoming here once to see father, and he told me to be sure and go toBennington when the train-band is mustered in. I can, can't I, mother?"
"And me, too!" cried Bryce. "I can carry Nuck's musket now't he shootswith father's gun. I can shoot, too--from a rest."
"Huh!" exclaimed his elder brother, "you can't carry the old musketeven, and march."
"Yes I can!"
"No you can't!"
But the mother's voice recalled the boys to their better behavior. "Iwill talk with 'Siah Bolderwood about your joining the train-band,Enoch. And if you go to Bennington with Enoch, Bryce, who will defendour home? You must stay here and guard mother and the other children, myboy."
Bryce felt better at that suggestion and the argument between Enoch andhimself was dropped. The widow soon sent all but Enoch to bed in theloft over the kitchen and living room of the cabin. There was a bedroomoccupied by herself partitioned off from the living room, while Enochslept on a "shakedown" near the door. This he had insisted upon doingever since his father's death.
"You were very late in returning, my son," said the widow when theothers had climbed the ladder to the loft.
"Yes, marm."
"You did not come right home?"
"No, marm. I stayed to eat with Lot Breckenridge. And then I wanted tohear the men talk."
"You should have started earlier for home, Enoch," she said, sternly.
"Well, I'd got here pretty near sunset if it hadn't been for somethin'that happened just the other side of the crick," Enoch declared,forgetting the fact that he had stopped to watch the beavers before everhe saw the campfire in the wood.
"What was it?" she asked.
"There's somebody over there--a tall man, but I couldn't see hisface----"
"Where?"
"Beyond the crick; 'twarn't half a mile from where father was killed atthe deer-lick. I saw a light in the bushes. It was a campfire an' Icouldn't go by without seein' what it was for. So I crept up on it an'bymeby I saw the man."
"You don't know who he was?" asked the widow, quickly.
"No, marm."
"Did he have a dark face and was his nose hooked?"
"I couldn't see his face. He was sittin' down all the time. His face wasshaded with his cap. He sat with his back up against a tree. I was along while gittin' near enough to see him, an' then----"
"Well, what happened, my son?"
"Then that Crow Wing--you know him; the Injin boy that useter live downthe crick with his folks--Crow Wing come out of the forest an' grabbedme an' told me not to holler or he'd kill me. I wasn't 'zactly 'fraid ofhim," added Enoch, thinking some explanation necessary, "but I saw if Ifought him it would bring the man at the fire to help, and I couldn'tfight two of 'em, anyway. The pesky Injin made me walk to the crick withhim an' then he told me to go home and not come back. I wish 'SiahBolderwood was here. We'd fix 'em!"
"The Indian threatened you!" cried the widow. "Have you done anything toanger him, Enoch? I know your father was very bitter toward them all;but I hoped----"
"I never done a thing to him!" declared the boy. "I don't play with himmuch, though Lot does; but I let him alone. I useter make fun of himb'fore--b'fore 'Siah told me more about his folks. Crow Wing's father isa good friend to the whites. He fought with our folks ag'in the FrenchInjins."
"But who could the man have been?" asked the widow, gravely. "Thechildren saw a man lurking about the corn-field at the lower end to-day.And when I was milking, Mary came and told me that he was then acrossthe river at the ox-bow, looking over at the house. If it should beSimon Halpen! He will not give up his hope of getting our rich pastures,I am afraid. We must watch carefully, Enoch."
"I'll shoot him if he comes again!" declared the boy, belligerently.Then he closed and barred the door and rapidly prepared for bed. Hismother retired to her own room, but long after Enoch was soundlysleeping on his couch, the good woman was upon her knees beside her bed.Although she was proud to see Enoch so sturdy and helpful, she fearedthis controversy with the Yorkers would do him much harm; and it was forhim, as well as for the safety of them all in troublous times, that sheprayed to the God in whom she so implicitly trusted.
The next day 'Siah Bolderwood came striding up to the cabin with thecarcass of the doe Enoch had shot across his shoulders, and found thewidow at her loom, just within the door. She welcomed the lanky rangerwarmly, for he had not only been her husband's closest friend but hadbeen of great assistance to her children and herself since Jonas' death."The children will be glad to see you, 'Siah," she said. "I will callthem up early and get supper for us all. I will have raised biscuit,too--it is not often you get anything but Johnny-cake, I warrant. Theboys are working to clear the new lot to-day."
"Aye, I saw them as I came along," said Bolderwood, laughing. "There wasMistress Kate on top of a tall stump, her black hair flying in the wind,and Nuck's old musket in her hands. She said she was on guard, and shehailed me before I got out of the wood. Her eyes are sharp."
"She should have been a boy," sighed the widow. "Indeed, this wi
ldernessis no place for girls at all."
"Bless their dear little souls!" exclaimed Bolderwood, with feeling."What'd we do without Kate an' Mary? They keep the boys sweet, mistress!And Kate's as good as a boy any day when it comes to looking out forherself; while as I came through the stumpage Mary was working with thebest of 'em to pull roots and fire-weed."
"The boys want a stump-burning as soon as possible. Jonas got the newlot near cleared. There's only the rubbish to burn."
"Good idea. Nuck and Bryce are doing well.... But what was the sentinelfor?"
"It isn't all play," said the widow, stopping her work and speakingseriously. "Yesterday the children saw a strange man hanging about thecreek yonder. And last night on his way back from Master Breckenridge's,Enoch saw a campfire in the forest and a man sitting by it. An Indianyouth whom perhaps you have seen here--Crow Wing, he is called--was withthe man. Crow Wing drove Enoch off before he could find out who thewhite man was."
"Crow Wing, eh?" repeated 'Siah, shaking his head thoughtfully. "I knowthe red scamp. If he was treated right by the settlers, though, he'd bedecent enough. But he got angry at Breckenridge's yesterday, they tellme. Somebody spoke roughly to him. You can ruffle the feathers of thembirds mighty easy."
This was all the comment the ranger made upon the story; but later hewandered down to the new lot which the Hardings were clearing, andinstead of lending a hand inquired particularly of Enoch where he hadseen the campfire the night before. Learning the direction he plungedinto the wood without further ado and went to the ford, crossing it withcaution and going at once to the vicinity of the fire which Enoch hadobserved. But the ashes had been carefully covered and little trace ofthe occupation of the spot left. At one point, however, 'Siah foundwhere two persons--a white man and a red one--had embarked in a canoewhich had been hidden under the bank of the creek. Evidently Crow Winghad expected the place would be searched and had done all in his powerto mystify the curious.
When 'Siah returned Mistress Harding had called up the children andsupper--a holiday meal--was almost ready. A lamb had been killed the daybefore and was stuffed and baked in the Dutch oven. There were lightwhite-flour biscuits, Enoch had ridden to Bennington with the wheatslung across his saddle to have it ground, and there was sweet butterand refined maple sap which every family in the Grants boiled down inthe spring for its own use, although as yet there was little market forit. It was a jolly meal, for when 'Siah came the children were sure ofsomething a bit extra, both to eat and to do. He taught the girls how tomake doll babies with cornsilk hair, and begged powder and shot of theirmother for Bryce and Enoch to use in shooting at a mark. Under hisinstructions Enoch had become a fairly good marksman, while Bryce, byresting his gun in the fork of a sapling set upright in the ground, didalmost as well as his elder brother.
After supper Bolderwood talked with the widow while he smoked his pipe."We need boys like Enoch, Mistress Harding," he said. "While he's youngI don't dispute, he's big for his age and can handle that rifle prettywell. You must let him go up to Bennington next week and drill with theother young fellows. There will be no need of his going on any raidswith the older men. We shall keep the boys out of it, and most of thebeech-sealin' will be done by the men who hain't got no fam'blies hereand are free in their movements. But the drill will be good for him andthe time may come when all this drillin' will pay."
"You really look for serious trouble with the Yorkers, MasterBolderwood?" she asked.
"I reckon I do. With them or--or others. Things is purty tick'lish--youknow that, widder. The King ain't treatin' us right, an' his ministersand advisers don't care anything about these colonies, 'ceptin' if wedon't make 'em rich. Then they trouble us. And the governors are mostlyall alike. I don't think a bit better of Benning Wentworth than I do ofthese 'ere New York governors. They don't re'lly care nothin' for uspoor folk."
So the widow agreed to allow Enoch to go to Bennington; and when the daycame for the gathering of those youths and men who could be spared fromthe farms, to meet there, he mounted the old claybank mare, his shoesand stockings slung before him over the saddle bow that his great toesmight be the easier used as spurs, and with a bag of corn behind him tobe left for grinding at the mill, trotted along the trail to thesettlement. Before he had gone far on the road he saw other men and boysbound in the same direction. Remember Baker passed him, with Robbie, hisboy, perched behind on the saddle, and clinging like a leech to hisfather's coat-tails as the horse galloped over the rough road. Enoch sawRobbie later, however, and invited him to the stump burning which was totake place the following week. He saw Lot Breckenridge, too, at theGreen Mountain Inn, and invited him to come, and sent word to other boysand girls in the Breckenridge neighborhood.
Lot's mother would not let him carry a gun, but he had come to look onand see the "greenhorns" take their first lesson in the manual of arms.Stephen Fay, mine host of the "Catamount" Inn as the hostlery had cometo be called--a large, jocund individual who was a Grants man to thecore and earnest in the cause of the Green Mountain Boys--made allwelcome and the old house was crowded from daylight till dark. In thegallery which ran along the face of the inn, even with the second storywindows, the ladies of the town sat and viewed the maneuvres of thenewly formed train-band. Before the door stood the twenty-five foot postthat held the sign and was likewise capped by a stuffed catamount, in avery lifelike pose, its grinning teeth and extended claws turned towardthe New York border in defiance of "Yorker rule."
The leaders of the party which had suggested these drills--all staunchWhigs and active in their defiance of the Yorkers,--met together in theinn that day, too, and laid plans for a campaign against certainsettlers from New York who had come into the Grants and taken up farmswithout having paid the New Hampshire authorities for the same. In notall cases had these New York settlers driven off people who had boughtthe land of New Hampshire or her agents; but if it was really theproperty of that colony the Yorkers had no right upon the eastern sideof the Twenty-Mile Line, or on that side of the lake, at all. As farnorth as the opposite shore from Fort Ticonderoga, that key to theCanadian route which had been wrested from the French but a few yearsbefore, Yorkers had settled; and the Green Mountain Boys determined thatthese people must leave the Disputed Ground or suffer for theirtemerity.
After the failure of Ten Eyck to capture the Breckenridge farm, New Yorkbegan a system of flattery and underhanded methods against the Grantsmen which was particularly effective. The Yorkers chose certain more orless influential individuals and offered them local offices, gifts ofmoney, and even promised royal titles to some, if they would rangethemselves against the Green Mountain Boys. In some cases these offerswere accepted; in this way John Munro had become a justice of the peace,and Benjamin Hough followed his example. Some foolish folk went so faras to accept commissions as New York officers, but hoped to hide thefact from their neighbors until a fitting season--when the Grants werenot afflicted with the presence of the Green Mountain Boys. But inalmost every case such cowardly sycophants were discovered and eithermade ridiculous before their neighbors by being tried and hoisted in achair before the Catamount Inn, or were sealed with the twigs of thewilderness--and the Green Mountain Boys wielded the beech wands with nolight hand.
Almost every week the military drills were held in Bennington and Enochattended. But before the second one the "stump burning" came off at theHarding place and that was an occasion worthy of being chronicled.