Chapter 3

A CHILD OF NATURE.

Several weeks had passed since Eben Pike had signified his wish to join the ranks of the Green Mountain Boys, and not once had he been summoned to take part in their drills.

"It is always the same," he murmured; "they think me too girlish for men's work. I will show them yet that I can be of use."

Every day he wandered through the country, and even crossed into New York Colony, hoping to find out if any attempt was to be made to carry out the decision of the courts.

One bright day in May he reached Eagle Bridge, as the point is still called, when he saw a number of men carrying muskets half concealed, and walking toward the mountains.

He kept up with them, eager to know where they were going and what was their errand.

They sat down under some trees to eat their mid-day meal, and Eben crept close to them.

"We'll bag the two to-day, just see if we don't," said one of the men. "Zounds! I'd give a crown to have Ethan Allen in a line with my musket."

"You are more likely to look down the barrel of his," retorted another, laughing.

"We'll surprise him. You see, the governor has waited until the Green Mountain Boys, as they call themselves, got tired, and then he sends us; 'cause why? There isn't another sheriff in the colony as could bag a fellow like that same Allen."

"Do you know the way to his farm?"

"Yes, every turn in the road. We shall reach there soon after sunset, and then I'll walk right up to him, and say: 'In the name of the king, surrender!' and he will be so surprised that he will almost drop dead with fright."

"But suppose he is not alone?"

"He will be; at least, there will only be the young boys, and they will not fight."

"He will not expect us."

"No; and, seeing so many, all armed, he will surrender at once. Then we go to Seth Warner's place, and he might show fight, for there are two others live with him, but we will silence him by keeping Allen in the front rank, so that, if he shoots, he has to kill the leader first. Ha, ha, ha! It will be as good as play-acting, and the fun will be something to talk about as long as we live."

"Aren't you afraid to leave this wallet on the grass?" asked one of the men.

"I shouldn't forget it, for in that wallet is the order to eject and capture one Ethan Allen, a rebel and traitor."

Every word was heard by Eben Pike.

"If I could get that wallet!" he thought; but it was kept pretty close to the sheriff.

Eben crawled a little nearer, sheltered by the thick undergrowth of the wood.

He cut a long stick and-held it ready to use if he should be discovered, for he fancied they would not be very lenient with him if he should be caught.

The sheriff and his posse sat talking, and telling of their deeds of daring. Each one seemed to try to out-bid the other for bravery.

The conversation became animated, and a strange idea entered the listener's head.

He crawled still nearer, taking care that he did not move far without resting, so that he might be sure he was not observed.

He pushed his stick a little closer to the wallet, and found that he only needed to be six inches nearer.

After a little more inaction he wriggled his body a few inches farther, and then, quickly and almost silently, with his stick drew the wallet toward him.

He secured it, and fastened it under his vest, the safest place he could think of.

Backward he crawled, as noiselessly as possible, until he reached a clump of sumach bushes. Then he rose to his feet and ran.

Eben was a child of nature, and, as Ira Allen had said, he would be useful in carrying a message quickly.

He had been in the possession of the wallet less than five minutes when the sheriff proposed that the journey should be continued.

He sprang to his feet, and looked for the wallet; he could not see it in the long grass.

He felt in his pockets, but it was not there.

"I say, men, that isn't a fair joke."

"What isn't?"

"Who has the wallet?"

"Now, that's a good one! Who should have it but the sheriff?"

"Come, a joke's a joke, but don't carry it too far."

"What do you mean?"

"One of you has got the wallet, and the writs of dispossess are in it."

"I haven't."

"Neither have I."

"One of you must have got it."

"It's a lie!"

"Call me a liar?" asked the sheriff, of his deputies.

"If you say we have got the writs, yes."

The sheriff raised his musket club fashion, and would have brained the speaker had not Isaac Gerston, one of the posse, caught his arm.

"Father Abraham!" he ejaculated, "are you mad? What if the wallet is in the grass? Have you searched everywhere?"

The sheriff lowered his weapon, and all went on their hands and knees and felt among the grass, searching very diligently, but no wallet could be found.

A council of war was held. If the writs could not be found the sheriff would be punished. What excuse could be given?

"What shall we do?"

"Let us go to this man Allen's house, and surprise him. He will not resist, and we can take him prisoner, and in the meantime another writ can be obtained."

It was a risky thing to attempt, but there seemed no other course open, so the march was recommenced.

The loss of the wallet was a mystery. Not one of the posse believed it had been stolen, for they could not think a thief could have escaped detection.

The only surmise was that some squirrels had carried it up a tree. It was a ridiculous assumption, but the only one tenable.

When within a mile of Bennington Crossroads, where the Allens lived, one of the posse caught his foot in the root of a tree and fell flat on his face.

As he raised himself he felt something soft and slippery. He picked it up, and holding it above his head, cried out:

"The wallet! The wallet!"

The others, who had been a little behind, ran forward, and the sheriff at once accused him of having had the wallet all the time, and only when he fell and dropped it would admit its possession.

The man was indignant at the charge, but the suspicion was so strong that most of his companions believed the sheriff was right.

The latter opened the wallet and saw the great red seal. That was all he cared about it, and, placing it in his pocket securely, he very generously proposed that no more should be said about it.