A Little Maid of Ticonderoga Part 2

"It's lucky I keep a musket at the mill," he said. "Here, you take Faith into the mill and fasten the door on the inside. I'll attend to the bear," and he was off, racing toward the house, while Mrs. Carew hurried Faith into the mill and shut the heavy door.

"I do hope Esther will stay in the chamber until your father gets there," said Mrs. Carew anxiously. "I do not believe the bear will venture up the stairs."

"He was after the syrup," said Faith, "and if he tried the stairs Esther could drop out of the window."

It was not long before they heard the loud report of the musket.

"Mayn't we open the door now, mother dear?" asked Faith.

"Not yet, Faithie. We'll wait a little," and Faith realized that her mother's arm trembled as she drew the girl to her side.

There was silence for what seemed a very long time to Mrs. Carew and Faith, and then they heard Mr. Carew calling; "All right, open the door. Here is Esther safe and sound."

Esther, sobbing and trembling, clung to Mrs. Carew, and Faith held tight to her father's hand while he told the story. The bear, with his nose in the kettle of syrup, had not even heard Mr. Carew's approach, and had been an easy mark.

"You'll find your kitchen in a sad state, Lucy," said Mr. Carew, as he finished. "I have dragged the bear outside, and he will furnish us some fine steaks, and a good skin for a rug; but your kettle of syrup is all over the floor."

"Kettle of syrup?" questioned Mrs. Carew. "Why, there was no kettle of syrup." Neither of the little girls offered any explanation. Mr. Carew looked about the clearing to see if any other bear was in the neighborhood, but it was evident that the creature had come alone.

"'Tis not often they are so bold," said Mr. Carew, as they neared the cabin, "although last year an old bear and two cubs came down by the mill, but they were off before I could get a shot at them."

Mrs. Carew looked about her kitchen with a little feeling of dismay.

The kettle had been overturned, and what syrup the bear had not eaten was smeared over the hearth and floor. The little rocking-chair was tipped over and broken, and everything was in disorder.

Esther looked into the kitchen, but Mrs. Carew cautioned her not to enter. "You and Faith go to the front door and go into the sitting-room," she said. "There is nothing that either of you can do to help;" so Faith led the way and pushed open the heavy door which led directly into a big comfortable room. The lower floor of the cabin was divided into two rooms, the sitting-room and kitchen, and over these were two comfortable chambers. The stairs led up from the kitchen.

Faith thought the sitting-room a very fine place. There was a big fireplace on one side of the room, and the walls were ceiled, or paneled, with pine boards. On one side of the fireplace was a broad wooden settle, covered with a number of fur robes, and several big cus.h.i.+ons. Between the two front windows stood a table of dark wood, and on the table were two tall bra.s.s candlesticks. A small narrow gilt-framed mirror hung over the table.

There were several strongly-made comfortable wooden chairs with cus.h.i.+ons. The floor was of pine, like the ceiled walls, and was now a golden brown in color. There were several bearskin rugs on the floor, for Mr. Carew, like all the men of the "Wilderness," was a hunter; and when not busy in his mill or garden was off in the woods after deer, or wild partridge, or larger game, as these fine skins proved.

"What a funny room," exclaimed Esther, with a little giggle. "Our sitting-room has beautiful paper on the walls, and we have pictures, and a fine carpet on the floor. What are you going to tell your mother about that maple syrup?" she concluded sharply.

"I don't know," responded Faith.

"Well, don't tell her anything," suggested Esther.

"I guess that I shall have to tell her," said Faith.

"You mean about me? That I teased you to make candy? Well, if you do that I'll get my father to take me home with him instead of staying until he comes next month," declared Esther.

"I shan't tell anything about you," answered Faith.

Esther looked at her a little doubtfully.

"Of course I shan't," repeated Faith. "You are my company. No matter what you did I wouldn't talk about it. Why, even the Indians treat visitors politely, and give them the best they have, and that's what I shall do," and Faith stood very straight and looked at Esther very seriously.

"Truly? Truly? What is the 'best' you have? And when will you give it to me?" demanded Esther, coming close to her and clasping her arm. "Is it beads? Oh! I do hope it is beads! And you can't back out after what you have said," and Esther jumped up and down in delight at the thought of a possible string of fine beads.

For a moment it seemed as if Faith would burst into tears. She had meant to tell Esther that she would do her best to be kind and polite to her because Esther was a guest, and now Esther was demanding that Faith should do exactly as she had promised and give her "the best she had." And it happened that Faith's dearest possession was a string of fine beads. Aunt Priscilla Scott, who lived in Ticonderoga, had brought them as a gift on her last visit. They were beautiful blue beads,--like the sky on a June day,--and Faith wore them only on Sundays. They were in a pretty little wooden box in the sitting-room closet.

Suddenly Esther let go of Faith's arm. "I knew you didn't mean it,"

she said scornfully.

Faith made no reply. She walked across the room and pushed a bra.s.s k.n.o.b set in one of the panels. The panel opened, and there was a closet. The little wooden box that held the beads was on the middle shelf. Faith took it up, closed the door, and turned toward Esther.

"Here! This is the best thing I have in all the world, the prettiest and the dearest. And it is beads. Take them," and she thrust the box into Esther's eager hands and ran out of the room. She forgot the dead bear, the wasted syrup, the danger and fright of so short a time ago; all she could think of was to get away from Esther Eldridge.

She ran across the clearing and along a narrow path that circled behind the mill into the woods. She ran on and on until she could no longer hear the sound of the brook, and the path began to grow rocky and difficult. Then, tired and almost breathless, Faith sat down on a big rock and looked about her. For a few moments she could think of nothing but her lost beads, and of the disagreeable visitor. Then gradually she realized that she had never before been so far along this rough path. All about her rose huge, towering pines. Looking ahead the path seemed to end in a dense thicket. She heard the rustle of some little forest animal as it moved through the vines behind her, and the call of birds near at hand. Faith began to recall the happenings of the morning: the excitement of Esther's arrival, the sudden appearance of the bear in the kitchen doorway, her terror lest her mother should come before she could be warned; and then, again, Esther and the loss of her beads. She began to cry. She felt very tired and unhappy. She felt Esther was to blame for everything, even for the appearance of the bear. Never before had a bear dared come to the house. Faith leaned back against a friendly tree with a tired little sigh. She would rest, and then go home, she thought, and closed her eyes.

When she awoke, she thought she must still be dreaming; for, standing a little way down the path, was a tall man leaning on a musket. He wore a flannel blouse, and his homespun trousers were tucked into high leathern gaiters.

The man smiled and nodded. "Do not be frightened, little maid," he said in a friendly voice. "I did not want to leave you here in the woods until I was sure that you could make your way home. Are you Miller Carew's little girl?"

"Yes, sir," answered Faith, wondering who this tall, dark-eyed man, who knew her father, could be, and then adding, "My name is Faith."

The tall man smiled again, and took off his leather cap.

"My name is Ethan Allen," he responded; "it may be that you have heard your father speak of me."

"Yes, sir! You are a Green Mountain Boy; and you help the settlers to keep their 'Grants,'" Faith replied quickly; for she had often heard her father and mother speak of the trouble the settlers were having to prove their t.i.tles to land taken under the "New Hamps.h.i.+re Grants," and she remembered hearing her father say that Ethan Allen would help any man defend his rights. She wished that she could tell him all about Esther Eldridge and the blue beads, but she remembered her promise. "I guess there are times when people don't have any rights," she decided, and was quite unconscious that she had spoken aloud until she heard her companion say very clearly:

"There can never be such a time as that. People would be slaves indeed not to uphold their just and rightful claims. But why is a small maid like yourself troubling about 'rights'?"

"I have company at my house----" began Faith.

"I see, I see!" interrupted Colonel Allen. "Of course you have to let the guest do whatever she pleases," and he smiled and nodded, as if he understood all about it. "And now we had best start toward your father's mill, for it is well toward sunset."

"Sunset? Have I slept all the afternoon!" exclaimed Faith, jumping up.

As they walked down the path Ethan Allen asked Faith many questions about the people who came along the trail from the settlements on their way to Lake Champlain.

When they reached the clearing where the mill stood Faith's father and mother came running to meet them. They welcomed Mr. Allen, and said that they had been sadly worried about Faith. "But where is Esther?"

asked Mrs. Carew. "Is she not with you, Faith?"

"I left her in the sitting-room, hours ago!" answered the little girl.

CHAPTER III

MORE MISCHIEF

"'Hours ago,'" repeated Mrs. Carew. "Why, dear child, it is only an hour since Esther came up from the mill with the dishes."

Faith looked so bewildered that her mother exclaimed: "Why, child!

Have you forgotten that you and Esther had your dinner at the mill?"