With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga. Foster Walter Bertram

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      Enoch Harding started and flashed a quick glance at his friend. “What things?” he asked.

      “Well, lad, mainly that Jonas Harding, who was as quick on the trail and as good a woodsman as myself, should be worsted by a mad buck; it seems downright impossible, Nuck.”

      “I know. But there could be no mistake about it, ’Siah. There were the hoof-marks–and there was no bullet wound on the body, only those gashes made by the critter’s horns. Simon Halpen – ”

      Bolderwood raised his hand quickly. “Nay, lad! don’t utter evil even about that Yorker. We all know he was anigh here when your father died. He was seen at Bennington the night before, and later crossed James Breckenridge’s farm on his way to Albany. Black enemy as he is to you and yourn, there’s naught to be gained by accusing him of Jonas’ death. It would be impossible. There was not, as you say, a bullet wound upon your father’s body. There was not a mark of man’s footstep near the lick here but your father’s own. How else, then, could he have been killed but by the charge of the buck?”

      “You say yourself that father was far too sharp to so be taken by surprise,” muttered the boy.

      “Aye–that is so. But the facts are there, lad. I s’arched the ground over–I headed the band of scouts who found him–remember that! Nobody had been near the lick but Jonas. There wasn’t a footmark for rods around. Even an Injin couldn’t have got near enough to strike Jonas down with his gun-butt – ”

      “You believe that wound on his head, then, was made by no deer’s antler?” exclaimed Enoch, eagerly.

      “Tut, tut! You jump too quick,” said Bolderwood, turning his face away. “That’s never well. Allus look b’fore ye leap, Nuck. My ’pinion be that your father struck his head on a stone in falling – ”

      “Where is there a stone here?” demanded the boy, with a speaking gesture of his disengaged hand. “I saw that deep wound in father’s skull. I never believed a buck did that.”

      “And yet there was naught but the prints of the buck’s hoofs in the soil here–be sure of that. The ground was trampled all about as though the fight had been desp’rate–as indeed it must have been.”

      “But that blow on the head?” reiterated Enoch.

      “Ah, lad, I can’t understand that. The wound certainly was mainly like a blow from a gun-stock,” admitted Bolderwood.

      “Then Simon Halpen compassed his death–I am sure of it!” cried the boy. “You well know how he hated father. Halpen would never forget the beech-sealing he got last fall. He threatened to be terribly revenged on us; and Bryce and I heard him threaten father, too, when he fought him upon the crick bank and father tossed the Yorker into the middle of the stream.”

      Bolderwood chuckled. “Simon as well might tackle Ethan Allen himself as to have wrastled with Jonas,” he said… “But we must hurry, lad. We have work–and perhaps serious work–before us this day. It may be the battle of our lives; we may l’arn to-day whether we are to be free people here in Bennington, or are to be driven out like sheep at the command of a flunkey under a royal person who lives so far across the sea that he knows naught of, nor cares naught for us.”

      “You talk desp’rately against the King, Mr. Bolderwood!” exclaimed Enoch, looking askance at his companion.

      “Nay–what is the King to me?” demanded the ranger, in disgust. “He would be lost in these woods, I warrant. We’re free people over here; why should we bother our heads about kings and parliament? They are no good to us.”

      “You talk more boldly than Mr. Ethan Allen,” said the boy. “He was at our house once to talk with father. Father said he was a master bold man and feared neither the King nor the people.”

      “And no man need fear either if he fear God,” declared the ranger, simply. “We are only seeing the beginnings of great trouble, Nuck. We may do battle to Yorkers now; perhaps we shall one day have to fight the King’s men for our farms and housel-stuff. The Governor of New York is a powerful man and is friendly to men high in the King’s councils, they say. This Sheriff Ten Eyck may bring real soldiers against us some day.”

      “You don’t believe that, ’Siah?” cried the boy.

      “Indeed and I do, lad,” returned the ranger, rising now with the carcass of the doe flayed and ready for hanging up.

      “But we’ll fight for our lands!” cried Enoch. “My father fought Simon Halpen for our farm. I’ll fight him, too, if he comes here and tries to take it, now father is dead.”

      “Mayhap this day’s work will settle it for all time, Nuck,” said the ranger, hopefully. “But do you shin up that sapling yonder, and bend it down. We wanter hang this carcass where no varmit–not even a catamount–can git it.”

      The boy did as he was bade and soon the fruit of Enoch Harding’s early morning adventure was hanging from the top of a young tree, too small to be climbed by any wild-cat and far enough from the ground to be out of reach of the wolves and foxes. “Now we’ll git right out o’ here, lad,” Bolderwood said, picking up his rifle and starting for the ford. “We’ve got to hurry,” and Enoch, nothing loath, followed him across the creek and into the forest on the other bank.

      “Do you r’ally think there’ll be fightin’, Master Bolderwood?” he asked.

      “I hope God’ll forbid that,” responded the ranger, with due reverence. “But if the Yorkers expect ter walk in an’ take our farms the way this sheriff wants ter take Master Breckenridge’s, we’ll show ’em diff’rent!” He increased his stride and Enoch had such difficulty in keeping up with his long-legged companion that he had no breath for rejoinder and they went on in silence.

      The controversy between the New York colony and the settlers of the Hampshire Grants who had bought their farms of Governor Benning Wentworth, of New Hampshire, was a very important incident of the pre-Revolutionary period. The not always bloodless battles over the Disputed Ground arose from the claim of New York that the old patent of King Charles to the Duke of York, giving to him all the territory lying between the Connecticut River on the east and Delaware Bay on the west, was still valid north of the Massachusetts line.

      In 1740 King George II had declared “that the northern boundary of Massachusetts be a similar curved line, pursuing the course of the Merrimac River at three miles distant on the north side thereof, beginning at the Atlantic Ocean and ending at a point due north of a place called Pawtucket Falls, and by a straight line from thence due west till it meets with his Majesty’s other governments.” Nine years later Governor Wentworth made the claim that, because of this established boundary between Massachusetts and New Hampshire, the latter’s western boundary was the same as Massachusetts’–a line parallel with and twenty miles from the Hudson River–and he informed Governor Clinton, of New York, that he should grant lands to settlers as far west as this twenty-mile line. Therewith he granted to William Williams and sixty-one others the township of Bennington (named in his honor) and it was surveyed in October of that same year. But the outbreak of the French and Indian troubles made the occupation of this exposed territory impossible until 1761, when there came into the rich and fertile country lying about what is now the town of Bennington, several families of settlers from Hardwick, Mass., in all numbering about twenty souls.

      But there had been an earlier survey of the territory along Walloomscoik Creek under the old Dutch patent and in 1765 Captain Campbell, under instructions from the New York colony, attempted to resurvey this old grant. He came to the land СКАЧАТЬ