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.
[Illustration: THE BOY STOOD LIKE A STATUE]
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----"
He ran to the loophole, through which the smoke was now pouring. But
after a moment there was a break in the cloud and he saw the group of
frightened Yorkers plainly. They stood not many rods away and poking his
rifle through the hole, he aimed at the villainous Halpen and, pulling
the trigger, ran back to the hearth before the echo of the shot died
away. Down the ladder he darted, dropping the heavy hearthstone into
place, and leaving the cabin which for so many years had been their
home, to be consumed above their heads. But his heart sank when he found
how closely the six packed the tiny room and realized how little air
reached them down here in the earth.