CHAPTER XX.
A ROADSIDE ADVENTURE.
It was a daring thing to do, but Ethan Allen thought only of hiscountry, and how to benefit the national cause.
The proclamation offering a large reward for him, dead or alive, wasstill to be seen on the public buildings of the towns and villagesthrough which he passed.
Though every one knew him, for his identity could not be concealed, hewas as safe as in his mountain home.
The people of New York were ready to cast in their lot with thecolonies which had declared their independence, and, though nominallyloyal to England, the Yorkers were only waiting an opportunity toopenly throw off the yoke and declare themselves independent.
"The Hero of Ticonderoga," as Allen was called everywhere, was lionizedby the people, though those in authority were compelled to appear asthough they did not recognize him.
When Allen reached Albany he at once went to the Assembly Hall.
Marching up to the speaker's desk he said, in a loud voice:
"I am Ethan Allen, leader of the Green Mountain Boys, and I have come,not to surrender to you or to lower my claims to the lands in the NewHampshire grants, which we now call Vermont, but to ask you to listento a plan by which our country may become a nation, free andindependent."
"I propose that the assembly go into secret session to hear the Hero ofTiconderoga."
The speaker was one who had been most bitter against Allen when he hadappeared there sometime before to argue in favor of the men of Vermont.
"Let it be understood that New York, in listening to Ethan Allen, doesnot relinquish its claims to the lands which he culls Vermont."
"That matter can well be left in abeyance," said Allen. "There is agreater one--that of our independence as a nation."
"On that subject we will hear you!"
"I ask that the proceedings shall be secret."
"That is understood."
Ethan Allen, with a natural eloquence and rugged fervor, laid beforethe representatives of the people a plan for the invasion of Canada.
He showed how, with daring and quickness, the country north of the St.Lawrence could be captured, thereby inflicting an injury on theBritish, and taking from them a large tract of country, which could bemade so valuable an adjunct of the colonies south of the St. Lawrencewhen they became independent.
He had gathered information which showed how easily all Canada could becaptured, save, perhaps, the citadel of Quebec.
He was listened to patiently. He was cheered when he spoke of thegallant attack on Quebec by Wolfe and the heroic defense of the Frenchgeneral, Montcalm; and tears rolled down many cheeks when he recalledhow the French hero, wounded unto death, expressed a pleasure that heshould not live to witness the surrender of Quebec.
Then, with solemn voice, he told how the English had but a smallgarrison at the citadel, and how it could be taken unawares and maybecaptured as easily as Ticonderoga.
In one thing did Ethan Allen fail.
He hinted that perhaps the French Canadians would help the Yorkers andparticipate in the driving out of the British from North America.
We say that was a mistake, because the people still remember the greatstruggle against the French, and the fierce war between the coloniesacknowledging England and France.
One man, afterward one of the foremost to welcome Lafayette to NewYork, declared that it would be better to be the slaves of England thanthe friends of France.
"Better serfdom, degradation, death under England's flag than libertyif obtained by the assistance of France."
His fiery speech turned the tide of feeling against Ethan Allen and theinvasion of Canada, and the assembly absolutely refused to listen anyfurther to Allen.
Some were ungenerous enough to taunt him with suggesting the plan onpurpose to save himself from arrest.
Others wanted to know if he expected to be the general commanding.
"No, I should have asked permission to join as a private soldier, for Ihave no ambition to command even a squad."
"What, then, was your object?"
"I live to serve my country; I hope to see her free and independent."
Saying which, he left the hall, and his Mountain Boys were downheartedat the treatment he had received.
"Shall we return to our mountains?" asked Baker.
"No; at least I shall not. I shall journey to Philadelphia and seewhat the Continental Congress is doing."
"We will go with you."
"I shall be glad of your company, though maybe you have more urgentmatters at home to attend to."
"That was unkind, colonel," Seth Warner murmured.
"I meant it not so, believe me. I know that all of you are ready toserve your country."
Albany was left behind and the party started south for Philadelphia.
After a long march a place of rest was sought.
It was nothing unusual for a semi-military company to be on the march,and so the party did not attract any extraordinary attention.
A farmhouse seemed best suited for the refreshment and rest required,and one was found which seemed to answer all purposes.
Warner went forward to interview the farmer, and soon returned with thepleasing news that the party could have supper, rest for the night, andbreakfast in the morning for a most moderate sum.
The farmer was hospitable.
He killed some chickens and a young pig, and in a very short time theodor of cooking was very appetizing.
After supper the farmer insisted on bringing out several flagons ofgood cider, strong and old, for it was the last year's make.
Song and story enlivened the evening.
Warner told of the days when he had hunted the wild bear and met withsome startling adventures.
Baker recounted many a stirring episode in the life of a hunter, andAllen, who passed under an assumed name, kept up the interest bynarrating a story of ancient knighthood.
"Seems to me that there are as great heroes to-day as in olden times,"the farmer remarked.
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Now, in the troubles we are just encountering, there will beopportunities for heroism."
"Yes, and many a brave boy will sleep in a nameless grave."
"That is true; but if we get rid of England's rule and that of thetones, these same boys will rest well in their graves."
"You seem to think the patriots are right."
"I know they are, and I tell you, my masters, that as long as I have astalk of corn on my farm I'll divide it with any boy who fights againstthe oppressor."
"Bravo! but methinks the people round about do not think as you do."
"Many are afraid to speak, because, if they did, and the English weresuccessful, they would be made to suffer; and if the patriots win, as Iam sure they will, then the silent man may be counted a patriot."
"Very wisely stated."
"My idea of a great man is----"
The farmer paused.
"Excuse me, I thought I heard some one at the window. No, I was wrong,and yet I could have sworn I saw a face as I looked up."
"You were saying that your ideal of a man was----"
"Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga. I tell you, he is right all thetime. He was right about those land grants. If the land had been ofno value New Hampshire might have had all the land, but because itproved rich, of course York coveted it."
"Have you ever seen Ethan Allen?" Warner asked.
"No. I would give half my farm to do so."
"You needn't do that. Look at him; that is the hero of Ticonderoga,and I am Seth Warner who tells you so."
The farmer was overjoyed, and became so excited that he shouted anddanced with joy.
There was a sudden stop put to his merriment. Something fell overoutside the window.
"I could have sworn it before, but now I know some one was there. Thatmilk can could not fall down without hands. I'll find the scurvywretch and thrash him into sense!"
The milk can h
ad been thrown down, but no one was in sight, and after asearch the party returned to the large kitchen, where they againreplenished their glasses with cider.
In an interval of the fraternal mirth Eben got close to Allen and askedhim to spare a few moments.
"What is it, Eben?"
"I like it not, colonel. Some one was at that window at the time youwere discovered, and the knocking over of the milk can was an accident;the man who did it has gone to find some English who will pay well foryour capture."
"You are too suspicious, Eben."
"Perhaps so, colonel, but do be careful."
"I will. I have no desire to get into any jail, and I am sure that Ilike life too well to risk it needlessly."
It was after ten o'clock, a late hour in those days, before the farmerwould listen to any suggestion of retiring for the night.
He wanted Allen to sleep in the house--the others were to occupy thehay loft--but Allen declared that he would share the loft with hisfriends, and that no man should say that he had accepted bettertreatment than his followers.
As it was impossible for all to stay in the house, the farmer gave wayand allowed Allen to share the hay loft.
It was a happy party that climbed up the stairs into the place, wherethe sweet odor of the hay created a desire for sleep.
In less than ten minutes the hay had been too much for them, and allwere asleep.
No, not all, for Eben only pretended to sleep; he was wide awake, forhe feared treachery, and determined to be on the alert.
The boy was a natural wonder. He never knew what it was to be tired.He could march farther than most men, eat less and do without sleep,and never did he appear to be the least wearied.
The hour of midnight had passed and the early morning, according to themanner of marking time, had commenced; in other words, it was oneo'clock when Eben fancied he heard a slight noise.
He was in a position where he could see everything outside, and as themoon was shining brightly he was not long in discerning a number of menmoving toward the barn.
He crawled across to Ethan and gently shook him.
"Colonel, we are betrayed."
Allen was about to jump, when Eben whispered:
"Lie still or you will be seen; the loft door is open. I can wake theothers, and would it not be well to let them come right up into theloft before we strike?"
"Eben, you ought to be a general. Wake the others and caution them tolie still."
The boy crawled round the loft and quickly did his work.
When Ethan knew that all were awake he spoke in a loud whisper to them:
"Eben has suggested a plan of campaign and I shall adopt it. We mustall pretend to be asleep. Let the English enter the loft, and, whenthe opportunity arises, let the English be on the ground and thepatriots above them."
Every man lay perfectly still, and it really seemed as though Eben hadbeen mistaken, for the time was so long before any attempt was made toenter the loft.
Eben knew all that was transpiring. He saw a man's head rise above thefloor and look around, and then he heard the man descend the ladder.
It was fully five minutes after he had reached the ground before heagain ascended.
The man crawled along the floor and lay perfectly still.
Another, then another, ascended the ladder, until a dozen soldiers inuniform were in the loft.
Eben was not the only one who had watched their movements, for each ofthe Mountain Boys had one eye sufficiently open to see them.
A rustling of the hay was the signal given by the sergeant for theEnglish to rise.
Each man rose to his feet and stood over the apparently sleepingcolonials.
But no sooner had the enemy taken its position than the mountaineersput out their hands suddenly and grasped the soldiers by the legs.
In an instant every soldier was on his back, thrown to the floor with aviolence which he did not relish.
And over each man stood one of the mountaineers, ready to blow out thesoldier's brains did he attempt to move.
"Get up!" commanded Allen.
Each man rose, looking very sheepish.
"Hand over your guns and other weapons."
The soldiers obeyed. Not because they desired to do so, but at eachman's head was a pistol, and in each pistol was a bullet which meant anameless grave for the man who received it.
The captured men were made to descend the ladder, but no chance ofescape was given them, for at the foot of the ladder stood some of theMountain Boys, ready to fire if necessary.
There was a coil of rope in the barn, and this Allen utilized insecuring the prisoners in a novel fashion. He ordered the men to betied in couples, the right leg of one to the left leg of his mate,after the fashion of a three-legged race. Then the couples were unitedby a rope which wound round their arms and passed from one couple toanother, to prevent the party separating.
Warner roused the farmer, and that man was so indignant that heproposed shooting each of the prisoners.
"No, no," said Allen, "they only obeyed orders. I shall let them gothis time, if they will tell me the name of the informer."
The English soldiers were loyal and refused to purchase their releaseon such terms.
After an early breakfast Allen was ready to resume his journey, and heordered the prisoners to march before him.
When the farm had been left behind a distance of a mile, he told theprisoners they were free to go where they liked, but as a precautionagainst being followed, he did not unfasten them, knowing that it mightbe hours before they succeeded in getting loose.