With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga

“You killed the shote all right,” said Enoch in disgust. “Neither of the shots touched the bear at all. There’s no use chasing after the critter now. We’ll wait till after breakfast. He won’t go far, lugging that shote.”

The bear was fat and in the best possible condition for salting down for winter use. So even Mrs. Harding had no objection to make when the boys started after breakfast to follow the trail. She herself, with the help of the younger children, collected the hogs in the pen again and put up the log fence. Meanwhile Nuck and Bryce found that the bear had made for a piece of swamp about two miles away. The swamp was close grown with saplings and brush, while here and there a monster tree shot skyward. Some of these big trees were so old that they had become hollow and without doubt there was more than one lair of wild creatures in the swamp.

But it was easy enough to follow the early morning visitor to the cabin. After carrying the shote into the edge of the swamp, bruin had stopped and made a hasty meal upon the porker. Indeed the boys, who started on his trail scarcely two hours after the raid had been committed, undoubtedly disturbed him at his repast. The shote was not completely eaten when they found the bear’s breakfast-table. “It is a mighty big bear anyway,” Bryce declared, looking at the marks of the marauder’s feet. “He couldn’t have brought that pig so far if he hadn’t been.”

“He warn’t big enough for you to hit,” said Nuck, slyly.

“Huh! guess you can’t crow any,” responded the younger boy. “You missed him good and wide, too.”

They hurried on then, easily tracking the big, human-like spoor of the bear in the soil which here was not frozen. Indeed, in some places they “slumped in” rather deeply. The bear seemed to have picked out his path by instinct. But he could not hide his trail and before long the hunters came to a huge tree standing amid a clump of brush on the top of a hillock. The high ground was surrounded by water and rather hard to come at; but the boys were determined to get the bear after chasing it so far. They approached with caution, however, Enoch making Bryce remain in the rear.

“If I fire and don’t kill him you must be in reserve with your gun,” he whispered cautiously. “He’d be an ugly customer if he turned on us. He’s as big as a steer.”

“Huh! who’s afraid?” demanded Bryce.

“Jest you remember how father was killed,” Enoch said, gravely. “Who’d ha’ believed a bull-deer could kill an old hunter like him? You do as I say!”

So Bryce dropped behind and watched his brother crawl up the side of the hummock with infinite caution, parting the brush with the barrel of his rifle, which he held in readiness to use at any instant. Suddenly, from the heart of the brush clump, there sounded an angry growl. The bear was not to be taken unawares. And when a big bear growls in anger the sound is hair-raising to the uninitiated. Bryce felt a chill in the region of his spine and if his old cap did not actually rise off his head, it certainly felt as though it would. He was to one side of Nuck’s position so as not to get his brother between him and the bear should the creature come forth, and suddenly he saw the shaggy head and shoulders of the beast rise up over the brush. It looked enormous and when the bear opened its jaws, and displayed its great teeth and blood-red gums, it was indeed a fearsome spectacle.

“Shoot him! shoot him!” exclaimed Bryce, excitedly. But Nuck remained comparatively cool–at least, to all appearance. He stood up, too, with the rifle at his shoulder. The bear stretched wide his great fore-paws and plunged forward to seize the boy; but the rifle spoke and the smoke of the piece hid the creature for a moment.

When the cloud passed there was a great commotion in the brush, and Bryce saw that Nuck had darted back several paces and was rapidly loading his gun again. The younger boy could not see the bear; but it was badly wounded without doubt. The thrashing in the brush told that. Recovering his courage he pushed forward and finally saw the huge brown body on the ground, writhing in the muscular activity which follows death. The charge of Nuck’s rifle had reached a vital spot.

But something more Bryce saw. A second bear had followed the dead one from the hollow tree, and the boy observed this one whisk back into the dark opening between two roots. The tree was all of a dozen feet in circumference and there was doubtless a good-sized cavity in the tall trunk. “Come on! come on!” cried Bryce, excitedly. “Here’s another, Nuck.”

“Have a care, boy!” responded the older lad. “Don’t go too near. It may turn on us.” He hastily finished the loading of his rifle and came up the hill again. They could see the entrance to the lair plainly; but no sight could they get of the second bear. Bryce brought a handful of clods and flung one after another into the hole in the tree. The bear did not even growl, so they were pretty sure that the missiles had not reached it. “He’s climbed up inside,” declared Nuck. “I warrant that tree’s holler up to the first crotch.”

“What’ll we do?” demanded Bryce. “You shot that one, Nuck. Now I wanter git the other, before we go home.”

“We’ll smoke him out,” declared the elder brother. “You stay right here and watch, and I’ll get some wood.” Nuck had brought a tomahawk which, with his skinning knife, was thrust into his belt. With the hatchet he obtained dry branches from the lower limbs of some spruce-trees which grew near, and packed a big fagot through the mire to the hillock where Bryce stood guard. This wood he flung into the mouth of the lair, started the fire with his flint and steel, and when the flames began to wreathe the branches hungrily, he flung on leaves and grass to make a “smudge.” His suspicions regarding the hollowness of the tree proved true, for the draft through the hollow hole acted like a chimney and sucked the smoke upward. It began to wreathe out between the first limbs, some thirty feet or more from the ground.

Suddenly there was a great clatter and scraping of claws inside the tree and then there popped out between the branches the head and shoulders of a smaller bear than the one which now lay still in the bushes. “Wait till he gits out!” shouted Nuck, as the excited Bryce raised his musket. “If you shoot him there he’ll tumble back into the hole.”

Bryce was cool enough to see the wisdom of this advice and stay his hand. But in a moment the bear was completely out and then he fired. The bullet struck home and the bear lost its hold upon the limbs and dropped to the ground, landing with fearful force at the roots of the tree. But it was not dead and after a moment’s struggle, got upon its feet again. But the shock had dazed it and for a little it could neither see its assailants nor find any means of escape. Nuck ran in, placed the muzzle of his rifle within a foot of the creature, and finished it off with despatch.

Bryce was dancing about and yelling like a wild Indian; but it was not for joy over the death of this second bear. He was pointing on high and Nuck looked upward to see a third bear in the tree-top. This one had followed the second out of the hollow trunk and was mounting among the branches with great agility. The smoke pouring up through the hollow had driven the whole family into the open air. The Hardings reloaded their guns with despatch and then, on either side of the tree, fired at the remaining bear. Both bullets went true, but in falling the bear became wedged in the crotch of a big limb and Nuck, throwing aside his shoes and stockings, essayed to climb the trunk to push the dead beast off to the ground.

This was no simple matter, for all he had to cling to were the knots and “warts” on the side of the trunk. It was almost like climbing up the wall of a house. But he reached the first crotch finally and after resting a spell, found the remainder of the climb easy enough. Before he pushed the carcass of the bear out of its resting-place he took an observation of the forest, for he was high above the swamp here and could see beyond the creek. In some way they would have to get the carcasses to the creek bank and transport them to the cabin by canoe. It would be no easy task.

And as he scanned the stretch of river which he could see from his high perch he suddenly observed something which almost caused him to lose his hold upon the tree and fall, like the bear, to the ground. Coming up the stream were two canoes, each paddled by a couple of Indians, and with three white men in each craft. Even at that distance Enoch knew them to be strangers, and they were not a hunting party. Naturally his mind reverted to the warning Crow Wing had brought him a fortnight before, and without stopping to dislodge the dead bear, he descended the tree in utmost haste.

“Why don’t you push the bear off?” shouted Bryce from below.

Nuck leaned over and placed his finger on his lips, shaking his head warningly. Then he slid down the remainder of the way, falling in a heap on the carcass of the second bear. “Quick!” he gasped, seizing his shoes and stockings. “They’re coming.”

“What’s coming?”

“The Yorkers. I seen ’em on the river. Two canoes full.”

“Simon Halpen!” exclaimed the younger boy, his face blanching.

“I don’t know. Couldn’t tell any of ’em so far away. But they be’n’t Bennington men, that’s sure.” Nuck was hastily pulling on his stockings. “You run back and tell mother. I’ll watch ’em till they land and see what they intend to do.”

“But the bears – ” began Bryce.

“We’ll have to leave ’em. That one in the tree will be all right for a while for sure. Now hurry.”

Bryce obeyed at once and a moment later the elder boy started off in the other direction for the bank of the creek. He ran carefully, however, so as not to make any noise and thus warn the canoe party of his presence. In half an hour he was abreast of the boats, for they progressed but slowly up the stream. Here he had a good view of the men. In the first canoe he saw Crow Wing and another young Indian of his tribe, while the paddlers in the second were likewise Iroquois. The white men were Yorkers he was sure, and all were heavily armed.

As he scrutinized the whites his eyes rested finally on one man in the leading canoe whom he was sure he had seen before. He could not mistake that lean, dark face and hooked nose. Whether or not it was the person he had seen in the wood the day of Sheriff Ten Eyck’s fiasco at the Breckenridge farm, he was certain of the man’s identity. It was Simon Halpen who, under a New York patent, claimed territory on the Walloomscoik, a part of which the Harding farm was.

Dodging from tree to tree, the boy followed the canoes and finally, before they came in sight of the Harding house, saw the party land. The Indians remained with the canoes; but the white men disembarked with considerable baggage. One of the men carried a surveyor’s instrument, while a second bore a chain. Halpen led them and when he had seen the party strike into the forest in the direction of the house, Enoch sped away on a parallel trail and headed them off, arriving first at the destination.

He found that his mother and the children had already put up the shutters and made ready to receive the Yorkers. The cattle were shut in the yard surrounding the barn and the smaller children were put in their mother’s bed to be out of the way. Bryce went into the loft where he could watch for the appearance of the enemy; but Enoch remained outside the door, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, ready to parley with the Yorkers who soon were reported by Bryce as coming through the lower fields.

CHAPTER XI

AN UNEQUAL BATTLE

A masterful spirit had entered into Enoch Harding during the past few months. He was no longer a child; he thought and acted as a man in many things. Now, with this danger threatening them all, he did not shrink from the ordeal, and none might know his inmost feelings from the expression of his face. He did not speak to his mother, nor did she seek to advise him. Long before they had talked this emergency over, and it had been agreed that the homestead must and should be defended even to the point of firing on the Yorkers who might come to dispossess them. The legal authority claimed by Simon Halpen was not recognized in the Grants and did the Hardings put themselves in Halpen’s power by agreeing to let the New York authorities arbitrate the matter, they would lose all that they had toiled and suffered for during the past ten years.

The widow saw that the windows of the cabin were shuttered and that Bryce had both powder and bullets beside him in the loft. Then she went into her own chamber and falling upon her knees prayed as only a mother can whose children are in bodily and imminent danger. How far the Yorkers would dare go–to what lengths Halpen might force the fight for the ox-bow farm–it was impossible even to imagine. He was a cruel and unscrupulous man, but he had already had a taste of the temper of the Bennington settlers and perhaps the remembrance of the beech-sealing which had been dealt out to him two years and more before, would make him chary of coming to blows.

Soon the six Yorkers appeared around the corner of the log fence which enclosed the cattleyard. Four of them, including Halpen, were armed with guns. The surveyor and his assistant carried their tools only, and walked in the rear of the more warlike quartette. Their leader, his lean, black face clouded by a threatening scowl, strode across the home lot and approached the cabin door. His beady eyes glittered and when he was enraged his hooked nose seemed to glow a dull red beneath the dusky skin, like a half-heated iron.

Simon Halpen was much better dressed than the citizens of Bennington were apt to be, and he carried himself haughtily. His hair was done carefully and the queue tied with a silk ribbon. His rifle was silver-mounted and his powder-horn was partly of silver filagree work. In every way–dress, accoutrements and manner–he bore out the account the Hardings had received of him, that he was a wealthy and proud man. The three other armed men were fellows of the baser sort, hired at Albany for the purpose of driving the widow and her children from their home.

Enoch Harding thought this as he saw the party approach, and his heart beat faster while his cheeks were dyed with crimson. Should these men march up and deprive his mother and brothers and sisters of their home? Not as long as he held a gun and had powder and shot with which to load it! The fearful thought of shooting down one or more of these men in cold blood did not shock him now. The bitterness which filled his heart against Simon Halpen overbore any other emotion. He raised his rifle threateningly and cried aloud: “Halt there–halt I say! What d’ye want on our land?”

The three retainers of Halpen, as well as the surveyor and his ’prentice, halted instantly, but Simon strode on, his eyes blazing and his great nose growing ruddier as his rage increased. “Your land–your land, forsooth!” he exclaimed. “I’ll teach ye better than that, ye young viper!”

Instantly Enoch had his rifle to his shoulder and had drawn bead upon the Yorker. The muzzle of the weapon covered Halpen’s heart. The boy stood like a statue–there was no trembling to his young arms. “Back! If you come a yard nearer I will fire!” he cried. He did not recognize his own voice, but Halpen heard him plainly and was impressed with his earnestness. He stopped suddenly, half raising his own gun. “Don’t do that!” cried Enoch, instantly. “Keep your gun down. Why, I have but to press this trigger and you will drop where you are! Be warned.”

“Hi, captain,” growled one of his supporters, “the little varmint means it. Have a care.”

“You–you – ” Halpen only sputtered for a moment. He could not find words to properly express his rage. “I believe on my life, he would shoot me.”

“I certainly will, Master Simon Halpen, if you come nearer. You are quite near enough. You have come here for no good purpose. We own this land–my father paid for it and has improved it. He may be dead, but we will show you how we can defend the place from you Yorkers.”

“You crow loud, my young cock-o’-th’-walk!” exclaimed Simon Halpen, yet seeking to come no nearer the boy. “But you cannot hope to stand before his Majesty’s officers–though some of you vagabond Whigs have become bold of late. Know ye that I bear authority from the loyal governor of his Majesty’s Colony of New York, to turn you off this land, which is mine and has been mine for these six years.”

“And I have told you that you cannot come here and drive us off, for we shall fight ye!” declared Enoch, his anger rising. “And what be more, Master Halpen, though ye might succeed in driving us off, ye could not hold this land. It is too near Bennington, and ye know well what sort of men Bennington folk are, and what they would do to you.”

At this reminder of his former embarrassment, when caught by the neighbors and “viewed,” Simon Halpen flew into a towering rage. He shook his rifle in the air as he berated the fearless youth. “Have a care with that gun, Master Halpen,” said Enoch, “for it might go off by accident. And if such a thing should happen I would shoot you down–’deed and I would!”

This warning cooled the man’s ardor somewhat. For a full minute he stood silent eyeing Enoch from under his shaggy brows. “Would you dare flout me to my face?” he demanded.

“I dare keep my rights here, Master Halpen, as my father did before me,” said Enoch, his voice trembling for the first time. And at the mention of the dead and gone Jonas Harding more than Enoch were moved. Halpen’s manner changed; his face paled perceptibly; the fire died out of his eyes and his nose no longer glowed. He dropped his head and half turned as though to leave the spot.

But suddenly one of his retainers stepped forward and whispered in his ear. The whisper brought the leader to his old mind. His head came up and he flashed a look of bitter hatred at Enoch. He nodded to the man who had spoken and instantly the three armed retainers began to quietly spread out as though to surround the house. “I’ll parley no longer with you, my lad,” Halpen said, shortly. “This land is mine and you are naught but squatters on it. And as such you shall be put off, or my name is not Simon Halpen!”

Quick as thought Enoch darted backward to the house, for he had noted the action of the three men. “It is fighting you want, then, Master Halpen?” cried the boy, shrilly. “And you will get bullets instead of fair words if you press us–now I tell ye that! This is our home and we shall fight for it.”

“Stop the young rascal!” roared Halpen, raising his gun now in earnest, when he saw that Enoch no longer had him “covered.” But the boy dodged into the house and slammed to the heavy door. As he did so a bullet buried itself in the door frame. Halpen had actually fired.

The widow herself dropped the bars into place, for she had come out of her chamber and heard the conversation between her son and the Yorker. Now Enoch ran to one of the loopholes from which he could observe the movements of the man who had shot at him in so cowardly a manner. He saw that the surveyor, who had thus far kept in the background, was expostulating with the angry man. He could not hear what they said, but it was evident that the surveyor was a man of some conscience and could not see such murderous actions without striving to put Halpen in better mind. But the latter shook him off in rage and loaded his gun again. The house was now surrounded by the four armed men and the three understrappers were only waiting Halpen’s command to fire.

“Shall I shoot him? shall I shoot him?” cried Bryce, from the loft.

“Hold your fire!” commanded Enoch. “You may have blood on your hands yet, if you be not careful.”

“But he fired at you.”

“And a poor job he made of it. We will not fire unless we are forced to.”

His mother said never a word. She went into her chamber again and with the girls and little Harry crouched upon the bed. But she glanced frequently from the loophole to observe the movements of the Yorker upon that side of the clearing.

By and by Halpen raised his voice and addressed the besieged. “Open the door and come out, or we will batter it down. And it will go hard with you then, I warrant! If you give up the place peaceably you may cart away your household stuff and the cattle and hogs. I’ll not be too hard on you.”

“If you come near this door I will send a bullet through your black heart!” was Enoch’s reply, poking the muzzle of his rifle through the loophole beside which he stood.

The widow came running from the chamber. “Enoch! Enoch!” she cried, in horror. “Would you kill him?”

“He killed my father!” cried the boy, before he thought what explanation of his secret suspicions that remark might necessitate.

“The child is mad!” she murmured, after staring at him a full minute. “You do not know what you say, Enoch. Master Halpen had naught to do with your poor father’s death.”

But Enoch had not to reply. A cry came from Bryce in the loft. “Look at that! Look at that!” he shouted, with excitement. “I just will shoot him!”

And then his old musket spoke. There was a yell from without. Enoch thought Simon Halpen himself had been shot, but the Yorker only ran around the end of the cabin to where one of his men stood howling like a wolf, and holding on to his swinging arm.

“I’ve broke his arm!” declared Bryce, proudly, coming to the head of the ladder. “He was flinging blazing clods on the roof.”

“What shall we do?” gasped the mother. “My boys will be murderers.”

“I’ll kill them all before they’ll harm you, mother,” declared young Bryce, very proud indeed that he had hit the mark, but secretly delighted as well that he had done the villainous Yorker no serious damage.

But the moment after, he shrieked aloud and came again to the top of the ladder. His face was blanched. “Oh, oh! they’ve done it–they’ve done it!” he cried. “The roof is afire. Don’t you smell it?”

Enoch could not believe that this horror was true until he had run up to the loft. The red flames were already showing at the edge of the house wall, and the crackling without told him that the bark and binders of the roof were burning fiercely. “Tear it off!” he shouted, and dropping his rifle he seized a length of sawed scantling which his father had brought from the mill, and began to break up the burning roof and cast it off. But as it fell to the ground against the house, soon the logs outside were afire. The dwelling was indeed imperiled.

“Come out! come out!” shouted Simon Halpen’s voice. “The hut will burn to the ground an’ ye’ll burn with it. Ye’ll go to Albany jail for this, every last one of ye!”

“Let me shoot him, mother!” cried Bryce, doubly excited now. “He’ll never take you to jail.”

“Come down from the loft, Bryce,” the widow commanded, calmly. “Nothing can save the cabin now.”

The children were crying with fear. The red flames began to lick the edges of the shutters and the door frame was afire. If they escaped they must pass through a wall of flame. The men outside, frightened by the result of their awful act, were shouting orders and berating each other madly. Yet none dared come too near, for they feared the guns of the defenders of the homestead. Enoch for the moment completely lost his head and stood as one daft.

But his mother was not so. Swiftly did she sweep aside the ashes on the hearth. Then of her own exertions she lifted on its edge the flat stone which covered the underground apartment. There was the ladder the boys had made leading down into the cool depths. “Down with you–all!” she commanded, seizing little Harry first and thrusting his feet upon the ladder.

“Oh, we’ll smother down there, mother!” cried Kate.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the widow, yet with shaking voice. “Do you think mother would tell you to do anything that would hurt you?”

But though she encouraged them to descend, in her own mind she was simply choosing the lesser of two terrible evils. The girls and Harry descended quickly; but she had to fairly force Bryce down. He wanted to stay and fight, and he clung to the old musket desperately. Although the tears were running down his face, he was made of the stuff which holds the soldier, though frightened, to his post.

“Go down yourself, mother,” Enoch said, recovering his presence of mind and speaking calmly now. “I will follow you and drop the stone into place. But first I want to look out – ”