(_Vermont, 1774_)
I
A young fellow, raccoon skin cap on his head, with heavy homespun
jacket, with breeches made of buckskin and tucked into the tops of
light, supple doeskin boots, was running along the shore of a lake in
the Green Mountain country on a winter afternoon in 1774. He went at a
comfortable dog-trot, and every now and then he would slow up or stop
and look about him with keen eyes. Some people would only have seen the
lake, with thin, broken layers of ice floating out from the shore, the
underbrush and woods to the other side, powdered with a light fall of
snow, and heard only the crackling of frozen twigs and the occasional
scrunch of loose ice against the bank. But this tall, slim boy saw and
heard a great deal more. He caught the hoot of an owl way off through
the forest, and listened intently to make certain that it was an owl and
not a signal call of some Indian or trapper; he saw little footprints in
the snow that told him a marten had gone hunting small game through the
brush, and he spied the thatched roof of a beaver's house in a little
scallop of the lake. Then he ran on up the shore of the lake, all his
senses alert, his eyes constantly looking for other trails than the one
he had made himself on his south-bound journey that morning.
The sun had been set a half-hour when he came to a place where the trail
led inward a short distance from the shore. A few more yards brought him
to a small log cabin. Other ears heard him coming and as he stopped a
boy and a man looked out from the cabin doorway. "You made good time of
it, Jack," said the boy at the door. "Did you really get to Dutton's?"
"Did I get there?" chuckled the runner. "I got there a good hour before
noon."
"And what did they say there?" asked the man at the door.
"That the Yorkers mean to settle this land themselves. If they can," he
added, with a grin. "That's what all the men said down at Dutton's, 'if
they can,' and they shook their fists when they said it." Jack Sloan
shook his fist in imitation of the men. "Not if the Green Mountain Boys
can help it! Not by a jugful! No, sir!" he added.
The man grunted approvingly and stepped back into the cabin. The boy
came out. "I got a silver fox to-day," he declared proudly. "The biggest
one I ever saw, too."
"Did you, Sam? That's fine! I saw plenty of tracks, heard a bull-moose
calling, too; but I didn't have time to stop. Gee, but my legs are tired
now! I'm going to lie down by the fire and rest a bit."
He went inside, where the man was busy frying bacon and boiling coffee,
and taking a blanket from a bed in the corner spread it out before the
fire and stretched himself comfortably on it. "Dutton wanted to know
when you'd be sending him some more skins, Peter," he said. "He wants to
get 'em over to Albany early this year, in case there should be more
trouble with the Yorkers."
"I can send him some next week," was the answer. "There's a dozen mink
and a dozen otter out in the shed now, an' a lot o' beavers an' martens,
and four fine foxes. Did they say anything about Ethan Allen, Jack?"
"They said he was down at Bennington. My, but that bacon smells good!
They had corn-cake and molasses down at Dutton's, and I ate so much I
didn't think I'd ever be hungry again, but I am all right now."
Peter Jones, the trapper, laughed. "I never saw the time when you and
Sam wasn't ready for food."
Sam came in soon, like a bear-cub scenting food, and the three had
supper and then made things snug for the night. The weather was growing
colder. Peter, taking a squint at the sky, allowed that he thought the
lake would be frozen clear across by morning. They brought in a good
stock of wood and built up the fire, and then sat down in front of it
to hear what Jack had to tell them of the news at Dutton's trading-post.
At that time, in 1774, there was a great dispute between the two
colonies of New Hampshire and New York as to which owned the country of
the Green Mountains. New York stretched way up on the west shore of Lake
Champlain, and New Hampshire extended from the northern boundary of
Massachusetts up along the eastern shore of the Connecticut River. Now
Massachusetts reached as far west as a line drawn south from Lake
Champlain, and the governor of New Hampshire claimed that his colony
extended as far west as Massachusetts. He quoted his colony's grant from
the king of England to prove his claim, and he sent word to Governor
Clinton of New York that he meant to settle the great Green Mountain
tract that lay between the Connecticut River and Lake Champlain.
Governor Clinton sent back word to Governor Wentworth of New Hampshire
that the province of New York claimed all that land under the charter of
King Charles II to his brother the Duke of York.
New Hampshire settlers, however, went into this debatable land and built
homes and began to farm there. Governor Wentworth granted lands, known
as the New Hampshire Grants, to any who would settle there, and a
township was organized west of the Connecticut River, and was named
Bennington. The country was very fertile, the woods and rivers were
full of game, and it was a tempting land to take. But the New Yorkers
looked on the land as greedily as did the men from New Hampshire, and
soon both provinces were sending their sheriffs and other officers to
enforce their own laws there.
New York appealed to the king of England to settle the dispute, and he
declared that the western bank of the Connecticut River should be the
boundary line, giving all the Green Mountain country to the province of
New York. By this time, however, there were a great many people from New
Hampshire living there, and they meant to keep their homes no matter
what the New York governor might do. What he did was to order the
settlers to give up their grants from New Hampshire and buy their lands
over again from New York, which charged twenty times as much as New
Hampshire had. A few settlers did this, but most of them refused. A
meeting of the latter was held at Bennington, and they resolved, as they
said, "to support their rights and property in the New Hampshire Grants
against the usurpations and unjust claims of the governor and Council of
New York by force, as law and justice were denied them."
The settlers began to resist all New York officers who came to arrest
them or try to eject them from their homes. Surveyors who came to run
new lines across lands already granted by New Hampshire were forced to
stop. No matter how secretly a sheriff with a party of Yorkers, as the
New York officers were called, came to a farm in the disputed land,
there were sure to be settlers there to meet the Yorkers and drive them
away. The settlers had scouts all through the country; every
trading-post was a rallying-point.
A military force was organized, and chose Ethan Allen, a rugged,
eloquent man, to be its colonel. The governor of New York declared that
he would drive these men into the Green Mountains, and when they heard
this Ethan Allen's followers took the name of Green Mountain Boys for
themselves.
Peter Jones was a hunter and trapper. The two boys, Jack and Sam, were
the sons of men who had moved into the country on New Hampshire grants
and taken up farm land. The boys had wanted to learn more of the woods
than they could on their fathers' farms, and so had joined Peter at his
cabin. He had taught them woodcraft and Indian lore, how to paddle a
canoe, how to shoot straight, how to track the animals they wanted. All
three were ready at any time to go to the help of settlers who might be
driven from their land by New York officers.
Jack told the news of Dutton's trading-post, and then the hunter and the
boys went to bed. Outside the cabin the wind whistled and sang. By
morning the wind had dropped, but the air was very cold. Peter was up
soon after dawn, putting fresh wood on the fire. The boys followed him
shortly, getting into warm clothes as quickly as they could. They ate
breakfast, and went outdoors. The lake was a field of ice, the trees
were stiff with frost, the cold air nipped and stung their faces
viciously.
There was plenty of work to do. Soon Peter set out to visit a line of
traps to the south, and the boys went through the woods northwest to
look at other traps. They came to the frozen bed of a little stream and
a couple of beaver traps. There were no animals there. Perhaps the night
had been too cold to tempt them from their homes. "I shouldn't think any
animals would have gone prowling round last night," said Sam.
"I know I wouldn't," said Jack, "if I was a beaver."
They pushed on through the woods until they came to an open pasture.
They had started across it when they heard a crow calling overhead.
"Must be a fox somewhere about," whispered Jack. "Let's see if we can
find him, even if we haven't got our guns."
They went back to the edge of the woods, making as little noise as they
could, for they knew that a fox depends more on his ears than on his
eyes. They stopped behind the trees and after a few minutes saw a big
gray fox trotting slowly along the edge of the woods. Dropping to their
knees the boys crept forward to a hummock and hid back of it. The fox
stood still, looked about, and then started at a slow gait across the
meadow.
The fox was more than a hundred yards away from the boys when Jack
began to squeak like a meadow-mouse. No Indian or hunter could have
heard the sound at half that distance, but the air was very still and
Jack knew the fox's big ears were very sharp. True enough, the fox did
hear it, and stopping, looked around.
Again Jack gave the squeak of the meadow-mouse. The fox came leaping
lightly over the frozen hassocks of the meadow toward the two hidden
boys. Every few yards he would stop and cock his ears over the long
grass to listen. Each time he did this Jack squeaked, lower and lower
each time, and every time the fox came on again, more and more
cautiously, as if he were afraid of frightening the game he was hunting.
The fox got within fifty yards, and from there the boys, crouching
behind their hummock, were in plain view of him. The fox looked sharply,
distrustingly at the hummock. Had either boy moved his head or arm the
fraction of an inch the fox would have shot off like an arrow to the
woods. Neither did move, however. Jack waited until he judged from the
fox's attitude and the set of his ears that his suspicions were
vanishing, and then he squeaked again, very faintly now. The fox bounded
on, almost up to the hummock. Then he stopped short, and the boys could
see from the look on his shrewd face that he judged something was wrong.
Instead of coming on he circled round to the left, trusting to his nose
rather than to his eyes.
Jack squeaked, but the fox went on circling; it was plain he meant to
come no farther. "What's the matter, old boy?" said Jack softly.
At the sound of Jack's voice the fox sprang up into the air and then
bounded away to the edge of the woods, where he stopped a minute to look
back and then disappeared behind the trees.
"We could have had him easy," said Sam, getting up. "We could almost
have caught him with our hands."
"I don't want to try catching a big fellow like that with my hands,"
said Jack, chuckling. "Give me a gun every time."
When they got back to the cabin they found that Peter had been more
successful than they in his visit to the traps on the south, for the
skins of an otter and a mink had been added to the store that hung on a
line in the drying-shed. After dinner the hunter took from his pocket a
piece of wood he had been working over for several days. "I'm going to
see if I can't fool a pickerel with this," he announced, holding out the
little decoy for the boys to look at. The wood was cut to represent a
minnow, was weighted on the bottom with lead, and had fins and a tail
made of tin. He had painted a red stripe on each side, a white belly,
and a brilliant green back. A line fastened to the minnow would allow
Peter to pull it about in the water as if it were swimming.
Armed with a long-shafted fish-spear and a hatchet Peter and the boys
went out on the ice. Choosing a smooth place Peter cut a square of ice.
Then through the open space the hunter dropped his wooden minnow and
made it swim about in a very lively way. In his right hand he held the
spear poised, ready to strike at any venturesome fish.
For some time they waited; then the long nose of a pickerel showed in
the water; Peter jerked the minnow and struck with the spear. The
pickerel, however, slipped away unharmed. They had to wait fifteen
minutes before another appeared. This time the pickerel stopped
motionless, and seemed to be carefully considering the lively
red-striped minnow. Then the fish shot forward, Peter aimed his spear,
and the shining pickerel was caught and thrown out on the ice. Peter
caught two more fish before he let Sam have a try at it. Sam and Jack
each caught a pickerel, and then they brought their five trophies back
to the camp to cook for supper.
They had just sat down to supper when there came a rap on the door
followed by the entrance of a tall man in a fur jacket with a gun slung
across his back. He was John Snyder, a hunter from the country north of
the lake, and he had met the three in the cabin several times before.
"H-mm," said he, "that fish smells mighty good. I haven't tasted fish
for a month o' Sundays."
"Pitch right in," invited Peter, setting out another tin plate and
pouring a cup of coffee for the new arrival.
Snyder pulled off his cap and gloves, and threw off his fur coat,
showing a buckskin jacket underneath. He ate like a man who hadn't
tasted food for a month. After a while he said, "They say up where I
come from that thar's trouble down Bennington way. If the Yorkers want
trouble I reckon we can supply 'em good and proper. I'm on my way to
Dutton's, and thar's more of the Boys comin' on down through the woods.
Why don't you come along with me in the morning?"
"We was planning to go when we'd got a few more skins," said Peter. "But
we've got a fair-sized stock, an' I don't know but what we might go
along with you."
"That's what the word is," said Snyder. "Green Mountain Boys to
Bennington." He looked hardy and tough, a typical pioneer, quite as
ready to fight as he was to hunt or farm.
That night the guest slept on the floor before the fire, rolled in a
blanket, and soon after dawn next morning the four set out, pulling two
heavy sleds to which the furs and skins were securely strapped.
All four of the party were used to long trips on foot, often carrying
considerable baggage. There were few post-roads through that part of the
country, and horses would have been little use in traveling through such
rough and wooded stretches. So most of the new settlers, and
particularly those who were hunters, copied the customs of the Indians
and trained themselves to long journeys afoot, varied occasionally by
canoeing when they reached open water. The party of four traveled fast,
in spite of the heavy sleds. Peter Jones, not very tall but very wiry,
all sinew and muscle, and Sam, red-haired, freckle-faced, and rather
stocky, pulled one sled, and big, raw-boned, weather-beaten Snyder, and
slim, Indian-like Jack the other.
Presently they left the lake and came into more open country, where they
could see snow-powdered hills stretching away to the clear blue horizon.
Now they made better time, for there was no underbrush to catch the
sleds and stop them. On they went until they saw a number of cabins
grouped about a larger frame building, then they broke into a run, and
dashed up with a shout before Dutton's trading-post.
The shout brought three or four men out to see what was the matter. They
called the newcomers by name, and "Big Bill" Dutton, seeing the sleds,
told Peter Jones to bring his furs inside. Jack and Sam and Peter
unstrapped the furs and carried them into the house, where they were
spread out on a long counter, over which Dutton was accustomed to buy
whatever farmers and hunters and trappers might have for sale, and in
return to sell them provisions or clothing or guns or powder and shot or
whatever he might have that they wanted.
There was always a great deal of haggling over the sale of furs. Peter
had to point out what unusually fine skins of otter and beaver and mink,
of marten and fox he had brought, and Dutton had to argue that this fur
was rather scanty, that other one very much spotted. But at last they
reached an agreement, Peter was paid in cash for the pelts, and they
were carefully stowed away by the trader, to be sent at the first good
opportunity over to Albany, from where they would go by boat down the
river to New York.
Meantime Jack and Sam, outside the house, were listening to the stories
of the men who had gathered at Dutton's. They were exciting stories of
conflicts between Green Mountain settlers and the Yorkers or those who
sided with them. One man told how a doctor, who had openly talked in
favor of the Yorkers, had been swung in an armchair for two hours under
the sign of the Green Mountain Tavern at Bennington, on which sign stood
the stuffed hide of a great panther, a monster who showed his teeth at
all enemies from New York. Most of the stories were of the exploits of
Ethan Allen and his band of Green Mountain Boys. They said that Ethan
Allen had caught a surveyor marking out claims for Yorkers, and had
taken him prisoner and had ordered him out of the country on pain of
death if they caught him there again. Then Allen had marched on to the
First Falls of Otter Creek, where Yorkers had driven out some New
Hampshire settlers who had built a sawmill. The Boys had sent the
intruders flying at the point of their guns, and had burned their log
houses and broken the stones of a gristmill the enemy had built. Then
they had brought the original owners back and settled them again in
possession of their houses and sawmill. All through that part of the
country similar things were taking place. The men said they had word
that Yorkers were planning to drive settlers off their farms not very
far to the west of Dutton's. "If they do it," cried Snyder, striking his
open palm with his great fist, "I want to be there to settle accounts
with them!" So said all the rest; Ethan Allen and his men shouldn't have
all the glory there was going.
"Big Bill" Dutton's frame house was tavern and post-office as well as
trading-post and meeting-place for the settlers of the neighborhood.
When Mrs. Dutton rang the dinner bell all the strangers trooped into the
room back of the store and sat at the long table. Jack and Sam marched
in with the others and ate their share of dinner while they listened to
the talk of the men. Some of the latter were for setting out south
toward Bennington immediately, in order to learn at first hand what was
going on.
After dinner they all stood about the stove in the store, talking,
talking, talking. Sam and Jack went outdoors and looked about the little
group of cabins. A boy of near their own age came out from one of the
houses and talked with them about hunting moose. As they were swapping
yarns a man rode into the settlement from the southwest. At sight of the
three he flung out his right arm. "Yorkers down to Beaver Falls!" he
called out. "They're coming to drive our people out o' their homes! Are
there any Green Mountain Boys hereabouts?"
"In there!" exclaimed Jack, pointing to the store. "Tell 'em about it in
there!"
The horseman sprang from his saddle. "Fetch a blanket for my horse, will
you?" said he. The boy who lived there ran indoors to get a covering.
Meantime the rider strode up to Dutton's door and flung it open. He
walked up to the group of men about the stove, announcing his news
briefly. At his heels came Sam and Jack, and back of them came the boy
from the log house opposite.