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"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 pa.s.sed under an a.s.sumed 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 Hamps.h.i.+re 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 gla.s.ses 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+ning brightly he was not long in discerning a number of men moving toward the barn.