A ROADSIDE ADVENTURE.
It was a daring thing to do, but Ethan Allen thought only of his
country, and how to benefit the national cause.
The proclamation offering a large reward for him, dead or alive, was
still to be seen on the public buildings of the towns and villages
through which he passed.
Though every one knew him, for his identity could not be concealed, he
was as safe as in his mountain home.
The people of New York were ready to cast in their lot with the
colonies which had declared their independence, and, though nominally
loyal to England, the Yorkers were only waiting an opportunity to
openly throw off the yoke and declare themselves independent.
"The Hero of Ticonderoga," as Allen was called everywhere, was lionized
by the people, though those in authority were compelled to appear as
though 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 New
Hampshire grants, which we now call Vermont, but to ask you to listen
to a plan by which our country may become a nation, free and
independent."
"I propose that the assembly go into secret session to hear the Hero of
Ticonderoga."
The speaker was one who had been most bitter against Allen when he had
appeared there sometime before to argue in favor of the men of Vermont.
"Let it be understood that New York, in listening to Ethan Allen, does
not relinquish its claims to the lands which he culls Vermont."
"That matter can well be left in abeyance," said Allen. "There is a
greater 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 before
the 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 the
British, and taking from them a large tract of country, which could be
made so valuable an adjunct of the colonies south of the St. Lawrence
when they became independent.
He had gathered information which showed how easily all Canada could be
captured, save, perhaps, the citadel of Quebec.
He was listened to patiently. He was cheered when he spoke of the
gallant attack on Quebec by Wolfe and the heroic defense of the French
general, Montcalm; and tears rolled down many cheeks when he recalled
how the French hero, wounded unto death, expressed a pleasure that he
should not live to witness the surrender of Quebec.
Then, with solemn voice, he told how the English had but a small
garrison at the citadel, and how it could be taken unawares and maybe
captured as easily as Ticonderoga.
In one thing did Ethan Allen fail.
He hinted that perhaps the French Canadians would help the Yorkers and
participate in the driving out of the British from North America.
We say that was a mistake, because the people still remember the great
struggle against the French, and the fierce war between the colonies
acknowledging England and France.
One man, afterward one of the foremost to welcome Lafayette to New
York, declared that it would be better to be the slaves of England than
the friends of France.
"Better serfdom, degradation, death under England's flag than liberty
if obtained by the assistance of France."
His fiery speech turned the tide of feeling against Ethan Allen and the
invasion of Canada, and the assembly absolutely refused to listen any
further to Allen.
Some were ungenerous enough to taunt him with suggesting the plan on
purpose 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 I
have 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 downhearted
at 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 see
what the Continental Congress is doing."
"We will go with you."
"I shall be glad of your company, though maybe you have more urgent
matters 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 to
serve 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 the
pleasing news that the party could have supper, rest for the night, and
breakfast 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 the
odor of cooking was very appetizing.
After supper the farmer insisted on bringing out several flagons of
good 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 with
some startling adventures.
Baker recounted many a stirring episode in the life of a hunter, and
Allen, who passed under an assumed name, kept up the interest by
narrating 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 be
opportunities 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 the
tones, 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 a
stalk of corn on my farm I'll divide it with any boy who fights against
the 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 were
successful, they would be made to suffer; and if the patriots win, as I
am 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 the
time. He was right about those land grants. If the land had been of
no value New Hampshire might have had all the land, but because it
proved 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 and
danced with joy.
There was a sudden stop put to his merriment. Something fell over
outside the window.
"I could have sworn it before, but now I know some one was there. That
milk can could not fall down without hands. I'll find the scurvy
wretch and thrash him into sense!"
The milk can had been thrown down, but no one was in sight, and after a
search the party returned to the large kitchen, where they again
replenished their glasses with cider.
In an interval of the fraternal mirth Eben got close to Allen and asked
him to spare a few moments.
"What is it, Eben?"
"I like it not, colonel. Some one was at that window at the time you
were 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 for
your 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 I
like life too well to risk it needlessly."
It was after ten o'clock, a late hour in those days, before the farmer
would listen to any suggestion of retiring for the night.
He wanted Allen to sleep in the house--the others were to occupy the
hay loft--but Allen declared that he would share the loft with his
friends, and that no man should say that he had accepted better
treatment than his followers.
As it was impossible for all to stay in the house, the farmer gave way
and allowed Allen to share the hay loft.
It was a happy party that climbed up the stairs into the place, where
the sweet odor of the hay created a desire for sleep.
In less than ten minutes the hay had been too much for them, and all
were asleep.
No, not all, for Eben only pretended to sleep; he was wide awake, for
he 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 the
manner of marking time, had commenced; in other words, it was one
o'clock when Eben fancied he heard a slight noise.
He was in a position where he could see everything outside, and as the
moon was shining brightly he was not long in discerning a number of men
moving 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 the
others, and would it not be well to let them come right up into the
loft before we strike?"
"Eben, you ought to be a general. Wake the others and caution them to
lie 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 must
all pretend to be asleep. Let the English enter the loft, and, when
the opportunity arises, let the English be on the ground and the
patriots above them."
Every man lay perfectly still, and it really seemed as though Eben had
been mistaken, for the time was so long before any attempt was made to
enter the loft.
Eben knew all that was transpiring. He saw a man's head rise above the
floor and look around, and then he heard the man descend the ladder.
It was fully five minutes after he had reached the ground before he
again ascended.
The man crawled along the floor and lay perfectly still.
Another, then another, ascended the ladder, until a dozen soldiers in
uniform were in the loft.
Eben was not the only one who had watched their movements, for each of
the Mountain Boys had one eye sufficiently open to see them.
A rustling of the hay was the signal given by the sergeant for the
English to rise.
Each man rose to his feet and stood over the apparently sleeping
colonials.
But no sooner had the enemy taken its position than the mountaineers
put 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 a
violence which he did not relish.
And over each man stood one of the mountaineers, ready to blow out the
soldier'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 each
man's head was a pistol, and in each pistol was a bullet which meant a
nameless grave for the man who received it.
The captured men were made to descend the ladder, but no chance of
escape was given them, for at the foot of the ladder stood some of the
Mountain Boys, ready to fire if necessary.
There was a coil of rope in the barn, and this Allen utilized in
securing the prisoners in a novel fashion. He ordered the men to be
tied 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 united
by a rope which wound round their arms and passed from one couple to
another, to prevent the party separating.
Warner roused the farmer, and that man was so indignant that he
proposed shooting each of the prisoners.
"No, no," said Allen, "they only obeyed orders. I shall let them go
this time, if they will tell me the name of the informer."
The English soldiers were loyal and refused to purchase their release
on such terms.
After an early breakfast Allen was ready to resume his journey, and he
ordered the prisoners to march before him.
When the farm had been left behind a distance of a mile, he told the
prisoners they were free to go where they liked, but as a precaution
against being followed, he did not unfasten them, knowing that it might
be hours before they succeeded in getting loose.