CHAPTER III.
A CHILD OF NATURE.
Several weeks had passed since Eben Pike had signified his wish to jointhe ranks of the Green Mountain Boys, and not once had he been summonedto take part in their drills.
"It is always the same," he murmured; "they think me too girlish formen's work. I will show them yet that I can be of use."
Every day he wandered through the country, and even crossed into NewYork Colony, hoping to find out if any attempt was to be made to carryout the decision of the courts.
One bright day in May he reached Eagle Bridge, as the point is stillcalled, when he saw a number of men carrying muskets half concealed,and walking toward the mountains.
He kept up with them, eager to know where they were going and what wastheir errand.
They sat down under some trees to eat their mid-day meal, and Ebencrept close to them.
"We'll bag the two to-day, just see if we don't," said one of the men."Zounds! I'd give a crown to have Ethan Allen in a line with mymusket."
"You are more likely to look down the barrel of his," retorted another,laughing.
"We'll surprise him. You see, the governor has waited until the GreenMountain Boys, as they call themselves, got tired, and then he sendsus; 'cause why? There isn't another sheriff in the colony as could baga fellow like that same Allen."
"Do you know the way to his farm?"
"Yes, every turn in the road. We shall reach there soon after sunset,and then I'll walk right up to him, and say: 'In the name of the king,surrender!' and he will be so surprised that he will almost drop deadwith fright."
"But suppose he is not alone?"
"He will be; at least, there will only be the young boys, and they willnot fight."
"He will not expect us."
"No; and, seeing so many, all armed, he will surrender at once. Thenwe go to Seth Warner's place, and he might show fight, for there aretwo others live with him, but we will silence him by keeping Allen inthe front rank, so that, if he shoots, he has to kill the leader first.Ha, ha, ha! It will be as good as play-acting, and the fun will besomething to talk about as long as we live."
"Aren't you afraid to leave this wallet on the grass?" asked one of themen.
"I shouldn't forget it, for in that wallet is the order to eject andcapture one Ethan Allen, a rebel and traitor."
Every word was heard by Eben Pike.
"If I could get that wallet!" he thought; but it was kept pretty closeto the sheriff.
Eben crawled a little nearer, sheltered by the thick undergrowth of thewood.
He cut a long stick and-held it ready to use if he should bediscovered, for he fancied they would not be very lenient with him ifhe should be caught.
The sheriff and his posse sat talking, and telling of their deeds ofdaring. Each one seemed to try to out-bid the other for bravery.
The conversation became animated, and a strange idea entered thelistener's head.
He crawled still nearer, taking care that he did not move far withoutresting, so that he might be sure he was not observed.
He pushed his stick a little closer to the wallet, and found that heonly needed to be six inches nearer.
After a little more inaction he wriggled his body a few inches farther,and then, quickly and almost silently, with his stick drew the wallettoward him.
He secured it, and fastened it under his vest, the safest place hecould think of.
Backward he crawled, as noiselessly as possible, until he reached aclump of sumach bushes. Then he rose to his feet and ran.
Eben was a child of nature, and, as Ira Allen had said, he would beuseful in carrying a message quickly.
He had been in the possession of the wallet less than five minutes whenthe sheriff proposed that the journey should be continued.
He sprang to his feet, and looked for the wallet; he could not see itin the long grass.
He felt in his pockets, but it was not there.
"I say, men, that isn't a fair joke."
"What isn't?"
"Who has the wallet?"
"Now, that's a good one! Who should have it but the sheriff?"
"Come, a joke's a joke, but don't carry it too far."
"What do you mean?"
"One of you has got the wallet, and the writs of dispossess are in it."
"I haven't."
"Neither have I."
"One of you must have got it."
"It's a lie!"
"Call me a liar?" asked the sheriff, of his deputies.
"If you say we have got the writs, yes."
The sheriff raised his musket club fashion, and would have brained thespeaker had not Isaac Gerston, one of the posse, caught his arm.
"Father Abraham!" he ejaculated, "are you mad? What if the wallet isin the grass? Have you searched everywhere?"
The sheriff lowered his weapon, and all went on their hands and kneesand felt among the grass, searching very diligently, but no walletcould be found.
A council of war was held. If the writs could not be found the sheriffwould be punished. What excuse could be given?
"What shall we do?"
"Let us go to this man Allen's house, and surprise him. He will notresist, and we can take him prisoner, and in the meantime another writcan be obtained."
It was a risky thing to attempt, but there seemed no other course open,so the march was recommenced.
The loss of the wallet was a mystery. Not one of the posse believed ithad been stolen, for they could not think a thief could have escapeddetection.
The only surmise was that some squirrels had carried it up a tree. Itwas a ridiculous assumption, but the only one tenable.
When within a mile of Bennington Crossroads, where the Allens lived,one of the posse caught his foot in the root of a tree and fell flat onhis face.
As he raised himself he felt something soft and slippery. He picked itup, and holding it above his head, cried out:
"The wallet! The wallet!"
The others, who had been a little behind, ran forward, and the sheriffat once accused him of having had the wallet all the time, and onlywhen he fell and dropped it would admit its possession.
The man was indignant at the charge, but the suspicion was so strongthat most of his companions believed the sheriff was right.
The latter opened the wallet and saw the great red seal. That was allhe cared about it, and, placing it in his pocket securely, he verygenerously proposed that no more should be said about it.
The Hero of Ticonderoga; or, Ethan Allen and His Green Mountain Boys Page 3