THE TRAITOR'S WAY
Remember Baker lived at Arlington, and the distance from that new
settlement, it could hardly be called a village, to Bennington was about
two and a half miles. Enoch Harding might have given the alarm to the
neighbors of the captured man, but he knew that they would not be able
to pursue the Yorkers, for good horse flesh was scarce outside of
Bennington. And Robbie would doubtless rouse them, anyway, as soon as he
was recovered from his fright. As he saw it, Enoch believed his duty to
point to the Catamount Inn, and we have seen how quickly a company was
formed there for the chase of the Yorkers and their prisoner.
Enoch had ridden Baker's horse hard into town and now he followed behind
the ten rescuers, urging the animal to still greater efforts. The
hard-packed snow rang merrily under the hoofs of the steeds. Fortunately
the boy's mount had been well "sharpened" by the local smith shortly
before, or riding recklessly as he did the horse might have suffered a
fall, and Enoch been flung off. Nevertheless he could not keep up with
Isaac Clark and his companions, so gradually fell behind. His steed's
wind was sound, however, and he pursued the trail steadily.
The rescuers showed no hesitation in choosing their route. There were
but a few beaten trails and they knew the road John Munro and his party
would take with the prisoner to the bank of the Hudson. They could not
miss it. The road from Arlington broke into this main trail at a point
not far beyond the confines of Bennington and there it was at once
apparent that the sledge and horsemen had passed that way not long
before. There were plain marks of the runners and the ice and snow were
cut up by the feet of the flying horses. The fact that the Yorkers
numbered as many--if not more--than themselves, did not disturb the
Green Mountain Boys in the least. "A Grants man who is not good for two
or three of the scurvy Yorkers, is no good at all!" Stephen Fay had
declared when they set forth, and probably the only emotions the ten
felt as they rode on were eagerness and wrath.
Meanwhile, behind them raced Enoch Harding, desiring mightily to "be in
at the death," as the fox-hunters say. His heavy farmhorse could not
compete with the mounts of the posse, however, and with tears in his
eyes he saw them increase the distance between themselves and his
animal. But he doggedly pursued the road, while the clatter of hoofs
grew mellow in the distance. The morning was very still; the moon had
sunk now and the stars were fading before the gray light of the coming
day. In the east behind him the sky was even streaked with pink above
the mountain-tops; the wind blew more keenly and he suddenly awoke to
the fact that he was almost perished with the cold, for he had stopped
for neither greatcoat nor mittens.
Finally arriving at the top of a ridge of land he saw before him--at
least two miles along the road and just mounting another ridge--a group
of flying horses with a sledge in their midst, the prisoner and his
captors. At first he did not see the Green Mountain Boys at all; but as
his own horse plunged down the slope he suddenly observed the squadron
which had left the Bennington Inn, come out of the dip of the valley
where the trees were thickest, and begin the ascent of the further
ridge. The two parties were less than half a mile apart.
But from the elevation he was on Enoch had seen something else. The
second ridge was lower than this and over it and not very far beyond he
had caught a glimpse of the frozen Hudson! The river was not far away.
Would the settlers catch the scoundrelly New York justice and his
companions before they reached the river?
And this must be done if they would rescue Captain Baker. It was all
very well to talk of following the party to Albany; but that would
simply result in the imprisonment of all in the jail. Once at the river
the Yorkers would be among friends and would find plenty of people to
help them beat off the Green Mountain Boys. The latter understood this
well enough. They did not need young Enoch Harding to tell them, and it
was quite evident to the boy that his friends were spurring their horses
desperately up the farther slope in a last grand burst of speed to
overtake the fugitives.
On and on they sped and finally, when Enoch reached the dip of the vale,
Clark and his party were over the hill and had disappeared. The boy
dared not urge his horse up the ascent too rapidly and he lost much
precious time before reaching the summit. But once here he had a broad
outlook over the slope and plain beyond and if he could not be present,
at least he had an unobstructed view of the end of the chase. The Green
Mountain Boys had spurred down the hill madly and gained upon the sledge
so rapidly that the faint-hearted Yorkers were thrown into a panic. The
horses attached to the sledge gave out and one of them slipped and fell
in the harness. Instead of stopping to help Munro get the animal on its
feet, the horsemen, with the fear of punishment from the angry pursuers
before their eyes, rode on and scattered in the thick woods beyond,
leaving the doughty justice to meet the posse alone. Munro was not a
physical coward and he felt that with the majesty of the law--New York
law--behind him, he could face Baker's friends.
They bore down upon him with threatening cries, but he stood his ground
and warned them at the top of his voice neither to shoot nor to try to
rescue his prisoner. There was no need of firearms, of course, for they
were ten to one now. But they laughed his authority to scorn. What!
allow him to carry 'Member Baker to Albany to be tried by a judge who
was himself interested in land speculations, and by a jury antagonistic
to the settlers of the Grants? It was preposterous!
Baker, who suffered sorely from his wounds, was untied and placed upon
one of the horses which could carry double. The posse felt ugly, but
they did not harm the justice and after some wordy warfare rode away
again, leaving Munro to get his horse up and harnessed again to the
sledge without their help. His threats of future punishment for the
entire party were unnoticed. Their wild ride had been crowned with
success, for they had recovered their wounded comrade within a mile of
the Hudson River, and they took him home without any molestation.
But Captain Baker was weak from the loss of blood and terribly shaken by
the experience and was in bed and under the care of a surgeon for some
days. The news of the Yorkers' raid spread throughout the Grants and the
settlers whose fears had been lulled to sleep by the peace of the
winter, were roused to a realization of the fact that the land grabbers
intended to be quite as active in the future as they had been in the
past. The next training day the conversation of the Green Mountain Boys
who were present in Bennington was bitter indeed. Cochran, and such
reckless spirits, were for retaliating with fire and bullet on the New
York border. Nevertheless Warner and other more moderate men counseled
forbearance.
"We overawed the sheriff's army last year, it is true. But at that time
we had given the people of New York no reasonable excuse for attacking
us," declared Warner. "We've beech-sealed more than one surveyor and
warned New York settlers off the farms they had stolen since then. We've
been obliged to use force and now force will be used against us. But I
find that many of these New York settlers have been brought here under a
misapprehension. They did not understand the controversy before they got
the farms, and believed that the land-grabbers really owned the property
of which they are in possession. To visit our righteous wrath upon
helpless women and children will not help the cause of the Grants."
Many of his hearers, however, were not convinced. "'Member Baker's been
beaten and his wife and boy ill-treated. What are we going to do about
it?" was the demand.
"Complaint has already been made to Governor Tryon of New York, and John
Munro may be punished by his own side for what he did the other night."
"And there's 'Member's gun," spoke up another ill-affected partisan.
"Munro stole it and has got it to his house. I'm told so by a neighbor
of his. 'Member thinks a deal of that gun."
"I'll get that," said Warner, quickly. "'Member shall have his property
back before next training day."
And with that promise the disaffected spirits were satisfied for the
time being. When Enoch rode away from Bennington on his return home that
afternoon, the Connecticut giant overtook him on the road. Warner was a
fine-looking man, younger even than Ethan Allen and idolized by the
women and children of the community as Allen was by the men. But there
was nothing effeminate about Warner. He was of the better class of
borderers, possessing more education than most of his neighbors and with
that measure of refinement and cultivation which placed George
Washington above the majority of his associates. Warner had no patrician
bearing, however, but entered into the work, sports and pursuits of his
fellows. He was a superb horseman and rode on this day a mount which the
governor of New York himself might covet.
Enoch Harding had grown used, by this time, to seeing these prominent
leaders of the Grants and had spoken with Captain Warner before. "Master
Harding, your road lies my way for some distance," declared Warner,
smiling on the boy. "We will go together."
"You do not ride this way frequently, sir," said Enoch.
"Nay. But you heard my promise to-day. I must get 'Member's gun. That
rascally Munro may have to be taught a lesson, too."
"But will you go alone?" cried the boy.
Warner laughed. "Why, it is a peaceful mission. See--I have not even my
rifle--only my sword as captain of our military company. A show of force
might only make matters worse--and dear knows they are bad enough as it
stands."
"Munro will be among his friends, sir. Ought you not to have somebody
with you?"
"There might be some doubt regarding that, Master Harding. A man like
Munro is never blessed with an overabundance of friends. He may have
minions that, for wage, would help him in his nefarious deeds. But I
shall meet him when he least expects to see a Green Mountain Boy and I
fear no serious trouble. But if you have doubt as to my safety," and he
smiled again, "you may ride with me and see that the doughty 'Squire
does not capture and run away with me as he attempted to with Captain
Baker."
Enoch's eyes sparkled at this permission and he spurred on after Captain
Warner although the direction was one which carried him some distance
out of his way. A two hours' ride brought them to the settlement where
the New York justice lived. Before they reached the place the figure of
Warner was spied and recognized and Munro met the Green Mountain Boy in
the roadway before his own house, surrounded by several of his
neighbors. Enoch kept in the rear and as they rode up the boy unslung
his gun and laid it across his saddle. Warner smiled as he noted this
act, and then his face grew stern again as he drew rein before the
much-hated Yorker.
"Master Munro," he said, without parley, "it has been brought to my
attention that, upon your late evening visit to Captain Remember Baker,
you carried away from his house a certain weapon which Captain Baker
highly prizes. You mistook it for your own, I presume, and the duties of
your office have doubtless been so onerous since then that you have not
had opportunity to return it. Happening to be in this neighborhood I
have stopped to request the return of the gun."
"Ha, ye rebel!" exclaimed Munro. "Dare ye put yourself in the lion's
jaws in this way? I'll show ye----"
"Whether I have put myself in the jaws of a lion or a jackal may be a
question which is aside from our present discussion," interrupted
Warner, scornfully. "I have come for Captain Baker's property."
"Baker is an outlaw--as are you," declared Munro, wrathfully, "and as
such I took away his arms. An' I shall keep the gun."
"Now, 'Squire, if you had stated the reverse of that proposition I
should have the more easily believed you," cried Warner, with flashing
eyes. "Even a New York justice of the peace may not rob his neighbor
with impunity in the Grants. I shall carry that gun away with me to-day.
So, sir, deliver it without further ado!"
[Illustration: HE WHIPPED OUT HIS SWORD]
"Ye threaten me, do ye?" cried Munro, lashing himself into a rage.
"Seize this villain, neighbors! I call on ye to assist in the capture of
Seth Warner, the outlaw!" He seized the bridle of Warner's horse, which
reared with him and struck out angrily. But the justice hung on, still
calling to the bystanders to interfere and help him. Enoch urged his own
horse forward; but there was no fear of the neighbors aiding in Seth
Warner's capture. They refused to do so, and perhaps as much out of fear
of the Connecticut man himself, as out of dislike for the justice.
Warner's horse was a mettlesome beast and Munro's act in seizing the
bridle angered it. The Green Mountain boy had all he could do to handle
his steed for a moment and, as Munro continued to cling to the bridle,
Warner suddenly whipped out his sword and whirling it about his head
brought the flat of the weapon down upon the officer's pate! The blow
caused Munro to relax his hold and knocked him to the ground, where he
lay, roaring with pain and anger. Warner rode over him and approached
the open door of the house to which Mrs. Munro, frightened by her
husband's overthrow, quickly brought the gun in question and handed it
to the victor.
"Many thanks, 'Squire Munro!" cried Warner, waving the gun above his
head and holding in his charger. "And when next ye seek to impound me,
come in force, sir--come in force!" and letting his mount go, he and
Enoch rode away at a swift canter.
Young Harding went home that night full of the afternoon's doings, and
loud in his praise of Captain Warner's prowess. He and Bryce made many
plans for the reception of the Yorkers if they came to their farm; but
after this matters were quiet for some weeks and the settlers were
enabled to begin the spring work and get the seed into the ground in
peace. On May 19th Governor Tryon sent a letter to the Grants proposing
a conference and promising amnesty to all those who had taken an active
part in the raids of the Green Mountain Boys excepting Ethan Allen, Seth
Warner, Baker and Robert Cochran. The King had commanded that New York
do nothing further toward surveying or settling the lands east of Lake
Champlain and the Twenty-Mile Line until the difficulty could be
properly adjusted, and Tryon promised that the land-grabbers should be
kept away from the Grants.
The farmers were delighted with this letter. They had been living in
continual fear of dispossession since the first attack on the
Breckenridge farm in '69. Now they felt that they would be free to
follow the peaceful pursuits of their calling and began to improve their
possessions, believing that, after all, the right would prevail. None
were more pleased at this turn of affairs than the widow Harding and
Enoch. Bryce, it must be confessed, felt a little disappointed that he
had seen no active service; but they were all happy in their work and
the Harding place bade fair to be one of the most profitable farms in
the township that year.
The boys labored well and after the second corn hoeing in August the
work was so far along that Enoch was able to accompany 'Siah Bolderwood
on a hunting trip. The old ranger, lacking any regular abiding place of
his own, often visited the Hardings and helped in the work of the farm.
But he was a wanderer by nature and could not stay in one place long at
a time. So, being off to the northward, the widow allowed Enoch to join
him for a week or two.
It was not wholly game that Bolderwood was after, however. At least, not
game for present killing. He was mapping out his next winter's campaign
against the wild creatures of the forest. His strings of traps and
dead-falls would be laid along the route which he and his young comrade
traversed. Reaching the southern extremity of Lake Champlain Bolderwood
found a canoe which, well hidden in a hollow log--all that remained of a
monster king of the woodland--had lain untouched since his last visit to
the lake. In this light bark they set sail upon that beautiful body of
water on the shores of which the French and English had so often met in
battle. It has been well said that the Champlain Valley was the school
grounds of the early colonists, and that here were largely unfolded the
elements of character which became of supreme importance in the
Revolutionary struggle.
On the west bank of this lower, and narrower, portion of the lake, stood
the frowning walls of Fort Ticonderoga--"Old Ti" as the settlers called
it--wrested not long since from the French backed by their Huron and
Algonquin allies. That promontory signalized a more ancient landmark of
history even than the Pilgrim stone at Plymouth, and one quite as
important to our country at large. Eleven years before the Mayflower
began her voyage to America, Champlain met the Iroquois in battle on the
site of Ticonderoga, and this battle made the Iroquois the friends of
the English and the enemies of the French for generations. Ticonderoga
was an important link in the chain of French posts extending from the
St. Lawrence to the Mississippi, which was designed to shut the English
colonists into that narrow strip of the continent east of the
Alleghanies.
From the beginning Fort Frederick (Crown Point) and Ticonderoga were a
menace to the English. From these points the red allies of the French
descended upon the border settlements to the south and burned and
pillaged at pleasure. Two fearful campaigns were needed to reduce
Ticonderoga and place the command of the Champlain in the hands of the
British. Since its capture Ticonderoga had fallen somewhat into decay,
for with the changing of the Canadian government from French to English,
danger of attack, even by Indian bands, from the north was little to be
expected by the settlers who had flocked into the rich lands near the
lake after the close of the war.
Bolderwood and his young comrade passed Old Ti and, continuing up the
lake, paddled by Crown Point and reached the mouth of the Otter. Here
they encamped for several days, hunting and fishing, and living in a
nomadic fashion that charmed Enoch. But when they were about to return
another party of hunters came to the spot--men whom Bolderwood
knew--bound for the upper end of the lake and into the wilderness lying
east of that point. Enoch could not go so far because of the work on the
farm; but he urged Bolderwood to accompany this party, as he knew very
well he could find his way home in safety by either the land or water
route. In fact, he rather coveted the chance to make his way home alone,
for he wished to prove to the ranger his ability to do for himself.
It was therefore arranged that the boy should take Bolderwood's canoe
and go up Otter Creek to a certain settler's house, there to leave the
canoe and make his way overland to Bennington, and the next day they
separated. The hunters did not start until afternoon on their northern
journey, however, and Enoch left at the same time. Not far up the creek
was a settlement of Hampshire farmers who on one occasion had been
driven out by Yorkers in the employ of a Scotchman named Reid. But the
Yorkers who had taken these farms stayed but a short time and the real
owners of the property had come back the year before. Here Enoch
expected to remain the first night of his lonely journey.
He did not arrive until late, however, and the houses were in
darkness--indeed they seemed deserted. The mill (built by Colonel Reid's
followers) stood silent, the stones having been broken by the Green
Mountain Boys on the occasion of the driving out of the New York
settlers. Enoch, having heard such good accounts of this settlement, was
astonished by the appearance of inactivity.
Nevertheless he landed and soon found a stockade surrounding a
blockhouse, which was evidently occupied. The people seemed to live
under this single roof as though they were in fear of an Indian raid,
and the boy approached the place cautiously. He was not molested,
however, for no watch was being kept; but when he rapped smartly on the
door he knew by the sudden hush of voices within that the occupants of
the dwelling were startled. There was the clatter of arms and a sudden
command. Fearing that he might be treated as an enemy, Enoch knocked
again and was about to raise his voice in the "view halloa" of the
settlers, when the door was snapped open for an instant and the sharp
blade of a sword thrust out of the darkness, the light of the candles
having been quenched at his first summons.
The boy sprang back with an exclamation of fear, and only his agility
saved him from serious injury, for the point of the sword cut a slit in
his hunting coat. And the attack, so utterly unexpected, quite deprived
him of speech or further motion as the heavy door slammed in his face.
Such a welcome was, to say the least, disconcerting.