CHAPTER III.

THE SPIKED CANNON.

“We’ll put him in the tent, and make further search in the morning,” Ira said at length.

The three scouts lifted their prisoner, and, carrying him into the tent, laid him gently on the fir boughs.

“I would loosen your bonds if it were safe to do so, Master Preston,” Ira said; “but as it is, you will have to make yourself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.”

“I have been in a worse fix,” he replied shortly.

“You may both lie down and get what sleep you can,” the lad then said to his comrades.

“You are the one to sleep; we’ll take turns watching the prisoner,” Late said stoutly.

“No,” their leader answered decisively. “You will have a long journey to-morrow and need the rest, while I can sleep after returning to the encampment.”

They yielded reluctantly, and were soon slumbering soundly. Ten minutes passed, and the courier was so quiet the lone watchman thought he too must be asleep; but suddenly he tried to raise himself, saying:

“Look here!”

“What is it?” Ira asked kindly. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Yes,” the captive answered. “Tell me whether you are really Le Geyt, or some one who is personating him.”

“What difference does that make to you?”

“Much. If you are Le Geyt, you are a low, contemptible traitor, and when I get the chance I’ll crush your life out as I would that of a snake.”

“I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” Ira replied with a slight laugh. “I should in your place. But what if I am not Le Geyt?”

The courier struggled until he had raised himself slightly on one elbow, and looked straight at his captor for a moment. Then he continued:

“If you are some Yankee personating him at General Burgoyne’s headquarters, I say it is the boldest scheme I ever heard of, and I have only the profoundest respect for you. To be outwitted by such a man isn’t half as bad as having a sneaking traitor get the best of you.”

“That is where the shoe pinches, is it?” the young scout asked with another laugh. “Well, I’ll let you judge as to my real character by this night’s work.”

Silence reigned for some time, to be broken again by Master Preston, who said, as if he had been thinking over the events of the night:

“We are not far from the British camp?”

“What makes you think so?”

“You were not gone long enough from the encampment during the afternoon to have traveled very far and also caught that string of fish.”

“You are a good reasoner, Master Preston.”

“I believe we haven’t been very far from the camp at any time to-night,” the prisoner went on a moment or two later in tones of disgust. “I wonder I didn’t suspect you were leading me in a circle.”

“The circle was too large, and you were not familiar enough with the locality to see the change in our course,” Ira explained. “You can’t be blamed, I assure you. The way you have hidden the letters I know you carry, is proof you are nobody’s fool.”

The compliment evidently pleased the prisoner, for he laughed silently, and then remarked significantly:

“You haven’t found them yet, have you?”

Ira made no answer, and in a few minutes the prisoner was sleeping soundly notwithstanding his uncomfortable situation.

The little camp was astir early, for Dan Cushing arrived at dawn from Fort Edward. He looked the prisoner over, heard the story of his capture, and then turned to Late.

“When did you get back?” he asked.

“Yesterday about noon,” his friend replied.

“Any special news at Ticonderoga?” he next inquired.

“Nothin’, except General St. Clair has over three thousand men,” was the reply. “Colonel Seth Warner has come with his regiment from Bennington.”

“And General Schuyler is gettin’ reinforcements all the time,” Dan announced. “Give him a little more time, an’ he’ll have ten thousand men at his back, ’nough to drive the red-coats back into Lake Champlain.”

“He must have the needed time before Burgoyne reaches him,” Ira declared.

“That is what the general told me to tell you,” the lad continued. “He will leave the road open to Fort Edward until General St. Clair finds out whether he will have to retreat from Ticonderoga. If he does, he is to destroy bridges, and cut down trees across the way to hinder the red-coats as much as possible. I carried that order to him before comin’ back, else I’d been here sooner.”

“You’re here in time,” the leader replied, “though I shall have to send you back to the fort in a few hours. I want our prisoner in the custody of General Schuyler, rather than that of General St. Clair. I shall feel safer. And all three of you will make none too strong a guard. He must not be allowed to escape under any circumstances. Shoot him down should he attempt it. But we’ll have breakfast first, and then search him again for those missing messages.”

In a half-hour they and their prisoner had eaten. Then the latter was stripped to the skin, and every rag of his clothing examined. Then his boots and weapons were again inspected, lest some secret cavity had been overlooked. But the search was as fruitless as the previous one. It was evident that the captive enjoyed their discomfiture.

“It matters little,” Ira finally declared. “As long as he is a prisoner he cannot deliver the letters, and that will answer our purpose. It is possible, too, that the general may find a way to make him disclose their hiding place. At noon you are to begin your journey. Take the west trail to the river, and keep on to the fort. When you go, I’ll start for the British camp. Until then Dan and I will sleep.”

The noon-day sun, therefore, looked down upon a deserted island. The three boys with their prisoner had gone over to the western shore of the little pond, and from there struck through the forest towards the Hudson river; while Ira re-crossed to the brook, and, descending that to the larger stream, retraced his steps to the point where the latter met the Hubbardtown trail. From this point he began his journey back to the lake. He took such a roundabout route as a precautionary step. Should he meet any one who knew him, it would be supposed he was returning to the encampment directly from Master Graham’s house.

On his arrival he found General Burgoyne too busy with his arrangements for breaking camp on the morrow to give him more than a passing notice.

Greeting him pleasantly, the officer remarked:

“I trust that you made a safe journey, Master Le Geyt.”

“I did, and left Master Preston in good hands,” he replied, an answer which satisfied the unsuspecting commander.

By easy stages the army crept down toward Ticonderoga until only Sugar Loaf Mountain[3] stood between it and the fortress. Here a halt was called that the engineering corps might examine the hill with a view to placing a half-dozen cannon on its summit.

With some anxiety Ira went over to the officer who was watching his men as they clambered up the steep sides, measuring distances, and selecting the surest footing.

“It is a difficult place to carry guns, captain,” he said, as he stood by the officer’s side. “The enemy have always regarded such a feat as being impossible.”

“It may be for them, but not for us,” the Britisher replied loftily. “Before night I shall have my cannon yonder on that level spot you see below the big tree. From there it will be an easy task to run them over on the south side.”

“The fort will then be at your mercy,” the young scout suggested.

“Yes,” the captain replied with much satisfaction. “As soon as I have the guns in place, the general will throw his army about the fortress, and it will have to surrender, or be blown to pieces. The cannon isn’t yet made that can throw a shot six hundred feet straight up in the air to harm us.”

“That is so,” the lad admitted, and turned away with a heavy heart.

From his tent door he could watch the work of the engineers. A derrick was made of a tree some distance up the precipitous side; a pair of horses was attached to one end of the rope, and a gun drawn up to a level spot which had been cleared away a few feet below the tree. Then the tackling was carried to another improvised derrick farther up the hill, and again the horses swung the cannon toward the summit. It was a slow task, often beset with unexpected hindrance; but within two hours the first gun was lying on the level spot which the captain of the corps had designated.

“If one cannon may be put there, six can be made to follow,” muttered Ira as he saw the end of the task. “It is only a question of time. The officer was right; before night he will have his battery where it can be put in place. I must get word to General St. Clair, and let him and his men slip away before they are surrounded.”

The opportunity came to him unexpectedly. About dusk General Burgoyne sent for him.

“Master Le Geyt,” he said, when the young scout was in his presence, “I want you to go below the fort and keep watch over the road the enemy would take if they should attempt to retreat to-night. Select as many men with you as may be needed, and in case you discover any suspicious movement, report promptly to General Fraser. He has his division ready for immediate pursuit the moment we know the Yankees are trying to escape us. Before another night I shall have a force where they cannot leave the fort however great their desire.”

Concealing the exultation he felt at this order, the lad replied promptly:

“I will make arrangements to leave camp at once, general, and shall need but one other man, provided we may have horses. There are two routes by which the Yankees can leave the fort; my comrade can watch one, while I look after the other, and the first to detect any movement of the enemy will report at once to General Fraser.”

“Very well. Go to Colonel Baume; he will furnish you with horses and man, and you can be off by the time it is fairly dark.”

“Yes, sir,” and the lad hurried away.

Twenty minutes later he rode out of the lines, accompanied by a stolid Hessian whom he had chosen as his attendant. They went down the south road until arriving at another running westward. Here he stationed his comrade, saying to him in his own tongue:

“Stay here until I return, unless the Yankees come along in full force, in which case you are to ride to camp as fast as your horse will go, and tell your colonel. Do you understand?”

He grunted an assent, and Ira rode off to the east, saying to himself: “You’ll see no Yankee force to-night, my good fellow.”

A mile further on he came to a farm-house, up to which he rode boldly, and dismounted. Three rapid knocks on the door brought an immediate response.

“I’ll join you in a moment,” a voice said, and soon a stalwart form stepped from the darkness within into the darkness without. Approaching the horseman, he peered into his face an instant, and then exclaimed:

“Ho, Ira! It is you! Well, what is up?”

“I must go into the fort to-night,” the rider explained in low tones. “I will leave my horse here. What is the password?”

The man placed his lips to the lad’s ear, and whispered the information he desired.

“All right,” he replied. “I will be back in a few hours.”

He then gave the reins of his steed into the farmer’s hands, and, passing around the house, crossed an open field to the nearest thicket, into which he plunged. When he emerged from the timber he was near the fortress. Boldly approaching the sentinel, he replied to the challenge by giving the password, and in a few minutes was in the presence of General St. Clair.

The officer’s greeting was a warm one. Grasping the newcomer by the hand, he exclaimed:

“I am glad to see you——” here he hesitated a moment, and then went on with a grimace, as though the name was a disagreeable one to him—“Ira; but I fear your coming means bad news for me. What is it?”

“I had no time to find my messengers,” he began, “so came myself. The engineers of Burgoyne have succeeded in hoisting six of their best cannon up the north side of Sugar Loaf Mountain. To-morrow morning they will be run across to the south edge, and the fort will be at their mercy. You must retreat to-night.”

“If I do, it means leaving my cannon and stores for the enemy,” the general growled, more to himself than to his visitor. “Tell me how they did it? I thought such a plan impossible.”

Rapidly the young scout described the methods used to accomplish the feat, and added:

“I also have another item of news. General Fraser’s division is in readiness to pursue you, if you attempt to leave the fortification. I have been sent here to see that you do not get away,” and he and the officer laughed. “The general has orders to put his troops in your rear in the morning.”

“Hum! hum!” the commander muttered. “That does look as though I must move quickly, if I am to save my men for future fighting,” and he relapsed into deep thought.

In silence Ira waited. At length the general spoke.

“If I could have until to-morrow night, I believe it might be possible to slip away with men, guns, stores, everything. Is there any way by which the movements of the red-coats could be delayed, say for twenty-four hours?”

It was a full minute before the lad replied: Then he said slowly: “If those cannon on the mountain were disabled, they would have to spend another day hoisting up a second battery, and in all probability General Fraser would not be sent to your rear until the guns were in position.”

“Exactly,” broke in the officer eagerly, “if those guns can be spiked to-night, I am likely to secure the delay I need. Now the question is, can it be done? Are those cannon under guard?”

“I think not,” his visitor replied. “The British camp is so close to the foot of the hill, and as you are not supposed to know that the guns are on its summit, they have not deemed such a precaution necessary.”

“It is worth trying,” the commander said half to himself. “If I can only find a man who is willing to undertake the job,” and again he relapsed into deep thought.

“I will undertake it, general.”

“You?”

“Yes. I believe I can do it without much risk. Once I climbed that hill from this side, just for the pleasure of saying I had accomplished the feat. I am sure I can do it again. Give me the implements needed; say nothing to any one, and I will make the attempt. Two cries of a night-hawk from the south edge of the mountain, twice repeated, will be token that I have succeeded. Three cries, unrepeated, is that I have failed. There will be time for you to slip away with your men if I am obliged to report a failure.”

During several minutes they discussed the matter, General St. Clair offering to send others to perform the task, and the lad insisting that he be allowed to try it. In the end the officer yielded, and, with a hammer and files in his pockets, the young scout left the fortress.

There was no difficulty in gaining the steep side of the mountain. It was there the hazardous work began. For some moments Ira studied the rocks as best he could in the darkness. Finally he gave an exclamation of delight. He was certain he had hit upon the place where he began his ascent several months previous.

Up the cliff, using hands and feet in every crevice he could find, grasping narrow ledge, or projecting root as he came to them, stopping to rest at intervals, he clambered slowly on. A half-hour passed, and then the toiler’s efforts were rewarded. He gained a ledge from which he found safe footing to the summit.

Drawing a deep breath of relief, he sped noiselessly to the opposite side. Finding the guns unguarded, he commenced the work which he believed meant so much to his friends in the fort. Wrapping a bit of cloth about a file, and placing his folded handkerchief over the top to deaden the sound, he drove it into the touch-hole of the nearest cannon.

The task accomplished, he listened attentively. There was no token that his work had attracted the attention of any one in the British camp six hundred feet below. Congratulating himself on such supposed fact, he moved on to the next gun, and set firmly a second file. Again he listened, but could hear nothing.

“The sound does not reach the camp,” he said to himself, and as rapidly as possible disabled the other four cannon. Straightening up from the labor, he found himself face to face with the captain of the engineer corps, who demanded:

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Rejoicing that he had not yet been recognized, Ira, with quick wit, replied:

“I am watching the guns.”

“I was not aware we posted any guard here to-night,” the officer said sharply. “Unless you can give a better reason for being here I shall run you through,” and there could be heard a certain rustling which told that he was drawing his sword from its scabbard.

“The general sent me,” the lad replied, not thinking it worth while to explain what general.

“Oh!” the officer stammered. “I—I didn’t think a sentinel was necessary here. I received no orders to that effect.”

“That is nothing to me,” was the cool reply.

This answer appeared to anger the engineer.

“I am sure I heard a hammering up here,” he declared.

“Very likely. I was pounding on the guns. A man must do something to keep himself awake.”

The answer apparently satisfied the officer, for he turned to retrace his steps down the mountain side. After going a few paces, however, he paused to say:

“You may tell the general that I came up here myself to see if the guns were all right.”

“That is fair,” the young scout agreed, wondering if the officer had recognized him.

He stood motionless until every sound of footsteps had died away. Then he hurried across the summit and gave utterance to the cries which told the listening Yankee general that he had succeeded in his undertaking.

But that gratified officer little fancied that the lad was even then mentally asking if it was safe for him to return to the British camp.