As the sloop swept past the massive battlements of Crown Point where
they guard the narrowing channel of the lake, Job said to his young
comrade:
"We're getting towards home."
"Yes, I've been thinking of home and mother and sis. Guess I needn't be
afraid of ol' Toombs any longer, but I don't know as I could keep my
hands off'n him. I always meant to give him a thrashing when I could."
"Mebby you could, now, but he's a cordy critter and a soople one; but
mind what I tell you, you never will."
Nathan's answer was a short, incredulous laugh, as he helped Job make
ready for disembarkation. As they marched in straggling ranks toward
Fort Ticonderoga, Nathan was accosted by one of the young Newtons, who
had remained there during the northern expedition.
"Look a-here, Nate," he said, drawing him aside, "there's some trouble
to your mother's. She's sent word for you to come right home. Old Toombs
is dead or run off to Canerdy, or something. I don't know the rights
on't. But, anyhow, she wants you bad."
Either the death or the absconding of his stepfather was too good news
to be true, and his first duty was to serve his mother. He and Job
readily obtained leave of absence, though it was scarcely needed, so lax
was the military discipline of the crudely organized forces. The two at
once set forth, and an hour's paddling of the light birch canoe brought
them to the landing in the creek.
As they emerged from the shadow of the woods into the broad sunlight of
the clearing, their first glance sought the house standing in the midst
of green grass and springing grain. The scene was in such apparent peace
and quietude as it might have been lapped, if all the turmoil of war and
strife were a thousand miles removed. As Nathan's eyes ran over the
familiar fields in which he had spent so many hours in the companionship
of his father, his heart was softened with the sad and solemn memory.
Then it hardened in a fire of wrath that flamed up at the remembrance of
what he had suffered from his father's successor, and he felt if he
should meet the wretch he would wreak summary vengeance upon him.
Soon they were at the open door and looking in upon the homely kitchen.
It was empty but for the figure of a man slouching inertly in an
armchair before the fireplace. There was no mistaking the shock of
grizzled red hair, nor the brawny shoulders, though they were stooped
and curved together.
The light tread of Nathan's moccasined feet did not disturb the
melancholy figure, with its drooping head and vacant eyes staring into
the fire, nor did it move till he laid his hand on its shoulder. Then
the face turned upon him a slow, dazed stare, that as slowly kindled
into recognition, then froze into a rigid glare of inexpressible terror.
An inarticulate cry came from the white lips, while the helpless form
strove to arouse itself from the living death of palsy.
Nathan cast upon Job a look of appalled, beseeching inquiry. As he met
its answer in the awed face of his friend, resentment of past injuries
faded out of his heart, as he realized that a mighty hand had
forestalled his revenge, and he felt nothing but pity for the abject
being that crouched before him.
"It's come out about as I told you," said Job, "but I wan't expectin'
nothin' like this, poor critter. He thinks you're a spirit come to haunt
him." Then he called loudly to the figure, "It's the boy. It's Nathan,
alive and well. Don't be afeared, he won't hurt ye."
There were footsteps at the threshold, and Ruth and Martha entered,
pausing a moment with wondering faces, which presently kindled with joy,
and Nathan was clasped in their arms. When the first flush of joyful
meeting was spent, Ruth explained in answer to her son's whispered
question and his nod toward the dumb figure:
"He sort o' broke down after the guard went away, an' t'other day we
found him all of a heap down by a big hemlock log that he never got
round to cut up. He hain't seemed to sense much since. He's been
dreadful worried about you, Nathan, all along, ever since you went
away."
She did not know the terrible cause of the speechless self-condemnation
the wretch had suffered, nor did she ever learn it.
"I wouldn't tell her," counselled Job. "She'd feel bad, an' that
wouldn't pay any more'n it does to nurse a grudge. Vengeance don't
belong to us, poor critters."
Thenceforth, till Silas Toombs sank from his living death to eternal
sleep not long after this, his stepson gave him thoughtful and kindly
care.
At length the young frontiersman took his place among the defenders of
his country. By the side of his old comrade and guardian, he fought in
the losing fight of Hubbardton and helped to win the glorious victory of
Bennington. Yet he is best remembered by the descendants of the old
Green Mountain Boys as the guide who led their fathers in the conquest
of Ticonderoga.
----
Where once stood the pioneer's log house, spacious farm buildings now
stretch their comfortable quarters. From it, away to the southwest,
across meadows, thrifty homesteads, low woodlands, and the narrowed
waters of Lake Champlain can be seen rising against the foothills of the
Adirondacks the hoary ruins of Ticonderoga. Within the house, upon a
pair of massive moose horns, rests the old flintlock once filled with
beans, "good enough for Yorkers," and later loaded with a leaden death
message for Tory and Hessian. Cherished with as fond pride by its fair
possessor, is a worn pocket-piece--the silver shilling given her
ancestor by the beautiful lady of Fort Ticonderoga.
Transcriber's Note
Spelling and punctuation inaccuracies were silently corrected.
Archaic and variable spelling is preserved.
The author's punctuation style is preserved.
Hyphenation has been made consistent.