With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like enough–like enough,” declared ’Siah hastily. “I’ll git right down and take the bateau.”

“Ain’t ye got no one ter help ye?”

“I’ll find my partner somewhere up the lake. He was lookin’ for boats, too,” returned the ranger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t let him go?” demanded Bolderwood.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet,” replied young Harding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The red flush left the prisoner’s cheek then. “What–what do you mean?” he gasped.

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

“The boy’s life is charmed!” muttered Halpen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXII

THE END OF SIMON HALPEN

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

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

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

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

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

“Reckon so,” admitted Bolderwood.

“Where is Colonel Allen?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That isn’t the worst of it,” declared the youth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Throw down your paddle, Simon Halpen!” he commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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