Historic Events of Colonial Days

by Rupert Sargent Holland

X THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS AND THE YORKERS

(Vermont, 1774)

I

A young fellow, raccoon skin cap on his head, with heavy homespun jacket, with breeches made of buckskin and tucked into the tops of light, supple doeskin boots, was running along the shore of a lake in the Green Mountain country on a winter afternoon in 1774. He went at a comfortable dog-trot, and every now and then he would slow up or stop and look about him with keen eyes. Some people would only have seen the lake, with thin, broken layers of ice floating out from the shore, the underbrush and woods to the other side, powdered with a light fall of snow, and heard only the crackling of frozen twigs and the occasional scrunch of loose ice against the bank. But this tall, slim boy saw and heard a great deal more. He caught the hoot of an owl way off through the forest, and listened intently to make certain that it was an owl and not a signal call of some Indian or trapper; he saw little footprints in the snow that told him a marten had gone hunting small game through the brush, and he spied the thatched roof of a beaver's house in a little scallop of the lake. Then he ran on up the shore of the lake, all his senses alert, his eyes constantly looking for other trails than the one he had made himself on his south-bound journey that morning.

The sun had been set a half-hour when he came to a place where the trail led inward a short distance from the shore. A few more yards brought him to a small log cabin. Other ears heard him coming and as he stopped a boy and a man looked out from the cabin doorway. "You made good time of it, Jack," said the boy at the door. "Did you really get to Dutton's?"

"Did I get there?" chuckled the runner. "I got there a good hour before noon."

"And what did they say there?" asked the man at the door.

"That the Yorkers mean to settle this land themselves. If they can," he added, with a grin. "That's what all the men said down at Dutton's, 'if they can,' and they shook their fists when they said it." Jack Sloan shook his fist in imitation of the men. "Not if the Green Mountain Boys can help it! Not by a jugful! No, sir!" he added.

The man grunted approvingly and stepped back into the cabin. The boy came out. "I got a silver fox to-day," he declared proudly. "The biggest one I ever saw, too."

"Did you, Sam? That's fine! I saw plenty of tracks, heard a bull-moose calling, too; but I didn't have time to stop. Gee, but my legs are tired now! I'm going to lie down by the fire and rest a bit."

He went inside, where the man was busy frying bacon and boiling coffee, and taking a blanket from a bed in the corner spread it out before the fire and stretched himself comfortably on it. "Dutton wanted to know when you'd be sending him some more skins, Peter," he said. "He wants to get 'em over to Albany early this year, in case there should be more trouble with the Yorkers."

"I can send him some next week," was the answer. "There's a dozen mink and a dozen otter out in the shed now, an' a lot o' beavers an' martens, and four fine foxes. Did they say anything about Ethan Allen, Jack?"

"They said he was down at Bennington. My, but that bacon smells good! They had corn-cake and molasses down at Dutton's, and I ate so much I didn't think I'd ever be hungry again, but I am all right now."

Peter Jones, the trapper, laughed. "I never saw the time when you and Sam wasn't ready for food."

Sam came in soon, like a bear-cub scenting food, and the three had supper and then made things snug for the night. The weather was growing colder. Peter, taking a squint at the sky, allowed that he thought the lake would be frozen clear across by morning. They brought in a good stock of wood and built up the fire, and then sat down in front of it to hear what Jack had to tell them of the news at Dutton's trading-post.

At that time, in 1774, there was a great dispute between the two colonies of New Hampshire and New York as to which owned the country of the Green Mountains. New York stretched way up on the west shore of Lake Champlain, and New Hampshire extended from the northern boundary of Massachusetts up along the eastern shore of the Connecticut River. Now Massachusetts reached as far west as a line drawn south from Lake Champlain, and the governor of New Hampshire claimed that his colony extended as far west as Massachusetts. He quoted his colony's grant from the king of England to prove his claim, and he sent word to Governor Clinton of New York that he meant to settle the great Green Mountain tract that lay between the Connecticut River and Lake Champlain.

Governor Clinton sent back word to Governor Wentworth of New Hampshire that the province of New York claimed all that land under the charter of King Charles II to his brother the Duke of York.

New Hampshire settlers, however, went into this debatable land and built homes and began to farm there. Governor Wentworth granted lands, known as the New Hampshire Grants, to any who would settle there, and a township was organized west of the Connecticut River, and was named Bennington. The country was very fertile, the woods and rivers were full of game, and it was a tempting land to take. But the New Yorkers looked on the land as greedily as did the men from New Hampshire, and soon both provinces were sending their sheriffs and other officers to enforce their own laws there.

New York appealed to the king of England to settle the dispute, and he declared that the western bank of the Connecticut River should be the boundary line, giving all the Green Mountain country to the province of New York. By this time, however, there were a great many people from New Hampshire living there, and they meant to keep their homes no matter what the New York governor might do. What he did was to order the settlers to give up their grants from New Hampshire and buy their lands over again from New York, which charged twenty times as much as New Hampshire had. A few settlers did this, but most of them refused. A meeting of the latter was held at Bennington, and they resolved, as they said, "to support their rights and property in the New Hampshire Grants against the usurpations and unjust claims of the governor and Council of New York by force, as law and justice were denied them."

The settlers began to resist all New York officers who came to arrest them or try to eject them from their homes. Surveyors who came to run new lines across lands already granted by New Hampshire were forced to stop. No matter how secretly a sheriff with a party of Yorkers, as the New York officers were called, came to a farm in the disputed land, there were sure to be settlers there to meet the Yorkers and drive them away. The settlers had scouts all through the country; every trading-post was a rallying-point.

A military force was organized, and chose Ethan Allen, a rugged, eloquent man, to be its colonel. The governor of New York declared that he would drive these men into the Green Mountains, and when they heard this Ethan Allen's followers took the name of Green Mountain Boys for themselves.

Peter Jones was a hunter and trapper. The two boys, Jack and Sam, were the sons of men who had moved into the country on New Hampshire grants and taken up farm land. The boys had wanted to learn more of the woods than they could on their fathers' farms, and so had joined Peter at his cabin. He had taught them woodcraft and Indian lore, how to paddle a canoe, how to shoot straight, how to track the animals they wanted. All three were ready at any time to go to the help of settlers who might be driven from their land by New York officers.

Jack told the news of Dutton's trading-post, and then the hunter and the boys went to bed. Outside the cabin the wind whistled and sang. By morning the wind had dropped, but the air was very cold. Peter was up soon after dawn, putting fresh wood on the fire. The boys followed him shortly, getting into warm clothes as quickly as they could. They ate breakfast, and went outdoors. The lake was a field of ice, the trees were stiff with frost, the cold air nipped and stung their faces viciously.

There was plenty of work to do. Soon Peter set out to visit a line of traps to the south, and the boys went through the woods northwest to look at other traps. They came to the frozen bed of a little stream and a couple of beaver traps. There were no animals there. Perhaps the night had been too cold to tempt them from their homes. "I shouldn't think any animals would have gone prowling round last night," said Sam.

"I know I wouldn't," said Jack, "if I was a beaver."

They pushed on through the woods until they came to an open pasture. They had started across it when they heard a crow calling overhead. "Must be a fox somewhere about," whispered Jack. "Let's see if we can find him, even if we haven't got our guns."

They went back to the edge of the woods, making as little noise as they could, for they knew that a fox depends more on his ears than on his eyes. They stopped behind the trees and after a few minutes saw a big gray fox trotting slowly along the edge of the woods. Dropping to their knees the boys crept forward to a hummock and hid back of it. The fox stood still, looked about, and then started at a slow gait across the meadow.

The fox was more than a hundred yards away from the boys when Jack began to squeak like a meadow-mouse. No Indian or hunter could have heard the sound at half that distance, but the air was very still and Jack knew the fox's big ears were very sharp. True enough, the fox did hear it, and stopping, looked around.

Again Jack gave the squeak of the meadow-mouse. The fox came leaping lightly over the frozen hassocks of the meadow toward the two hidden boys. Every few yards he would stop and cock his ears over the long grass to listen. Each time he did this Jack squeaked, lower and lower each time, and every time the fox came on again, more and more cautiously, as if he were afraid of frightening the game he was hunting.

The fox got within fifty yards, and from there the boys, crouching behind their hummock, were in plain view of him. The fox looked sharply, distrustingly at the hummock. Had either boy moved his head or arm the fraction of an inch the fox would have shot off like an arrow to the woods. Neither did move, however. Jack waited until he judged from the fox's attitude and the set of his ears that his suspicions were vanishing, and then he squeaked again, very faintly now. The fox bounded on, almost up to the hummock. Then he stopped short, and the boys could see from the look on his shrewd face that he judged something was wrong. Instead of coming on he circled round to the left, trusting to his nose rather than to his eyes.

Jack squeaked, but the fox went on circling; it was plain he meant to come no farther. "What's the matter, old boy?" said Jack softly.

At the sound of Jack's voice the fox sprang up into the air and then bounded away to the edge of the woods, where he stopped a minute to look back and then disappeared behind the trees.

"We could have had him easy," said Sam, getting up. "We could almost have caught him with our hands."

"I don't want to try catching a big fellow like that with my hands," said Jack, chuckling. "Give me a gun every time."

When they got back to the cabin they found that Peter had been more successful than they in his visit to the traps on the south, for the skins of an otter and a mink had been added to the store that hung on a line in the drying-shed. After dinner the hunter took from his pocket a piece of wood he had been working over for several days. "I'm going to see if I can't fool a pickerel with this," he announced, holding out the little decoy for the boys to look at. The wood was cut to represent a minnow, was weighted on the bottom with lead, and had fins and a tail made of tin. He had painted a red stripe on each side, a white belly, and a brilliant green back. A line fastened to the minnow would allow Peter to pull it about in the water as if it were swimming.

Armed with a long-shafted fish-spear and a hatchet Peter and the boys went out on the ice. Choosing a smooth place Peter cut a square of ice. Then through the open space the hunter dropped his wooden minnow and made it swim about in a very lively way. In his right hand he held the spear poised, ready to strike at any venturesome fish.

For some time they waited; then the long nose of a pickerel showed in the water; Peter jerked the minnow and struck with the spear. The pickerel, however, slipped away unharmed. They had to wait fifteen minutes before another appeared. This time the pickerel stopped motionless, and seemed to be carefully considering the lively red-striped minnow. Then the fish shot forward, Peter aimed his spear, and the shining pickerel was caught and thrown out on the ice. Peter caught two more fish before he let Sam have a try at it. Sam and Jack each caught a pickerel, and then they brought their five trophies back to the camp to cook for supper.

They had just sat down to supper when there came a rap on the door followed by the entrance of a tall man in a fur jacket with a gun slung across his back. He was John Snyder, a hunter from the country north of the lake, and he had met the three in the cabin several times before.

"H-mm," said he, "that fish smells mighty good. I haven't tasted fish for a month o' Sundays."

"Pitch right in," invited Peter, setting out another tin plate and pouring a cup of coffee for the new arrival.

Snyder pulled off his cap and gloves, and threw off his fur coat, showing a buckskin jacket underneath. He ate like a man who hadn't tasted food for a month. After a while he said, "They say up where I come from that thar's trouble down Bennington way. If the Yorkers want trouble I reckon we can supply 'em good and proper. I'm on my way to Dutton's, and thar's more of the Boys comin' on down through the woods. Why don't you come along with me in the morning?"

"We was planning to go when we'd got a few more skins," said Peter. "But we've got a fair-sized stock, an' I don't know but what we might go along with you."

"That's what the word is," said Snyder. "Green Mountain Boys to Bennington." He looked hardy and tough, a typical pioneer, quite as ready to fight as he was to hunt or farm.

That night the guest slept on the floor before the fire, rolled in a blanket, and soon after dawn next morning the four set out, pulling two heavy sleds to which the furs and skins were securely strapped.

All four of the party were used to long trips on foot, often carrying considerable baggage. There were few post-roads through that part of the country, and horses would have been little use in traveling through such rough and wooded stretches. So most of the new settlers, and particularly those who were hunters, copied the customs of the Indians and trained themselves to long journeys afoot, varied occasionally by canoeing when they reached open water. The party of four traveled fast, in spite of the heavy sleds. Peter Jones, not very tall but very wiry, all sinew and muscle, and Sam, red-haired, freckle-faced, and rather stocky, pulled one sled, and big, raw-boned, weather-beaten Snyder, and slim, Indian-like Jack the other.

Presently they left the lake and came into more open country, where they could see snow-powdered hills stretching away to the clear blue horizon. Now they made better time, for there was no underbrush to catch the sleds and stop them. On they went until they saw a number of cabins grouped about a larger frame building, then they broke into a run, and dashed up with a shout before Dutton's trading-post.

The shout brought three or four men out to see what was the matter. They called the newcomers by name, and "Big Bill" Dutton, seeing the sleds, told Peter Jones to bring his furs inside. Jack and Sam and Peter unstrapped the furs and carried them into the house, where they were spread out on a long counter, over which Dutton was accustomed to buy whatever farmers and hunters and trappers might have for sale, and in return to sell them provisions or clothing or guns or powder and shot or whatever he might have that they wanted.

There was always a great deal of haggling over the sale of furs. Peter had to point out what unusually fine skins of otter and beaver and mink, of marten and fox he had brought, and Dutton had to argue that this fur was rather scanty, that other one very much spotted. But at last they reached an agreement, Peter was paid in cash for the pelts, and they were carefully stowed away by the trader, to be sent at the first good opportunity over to Albany, from where they would go by boat down the river to New York.

Meantime Jack and Sam, outside the house, were listening to the stories of the men who had gathered at Dutton's. They were exciting stories of conflicts between Green Mountain settlers and the Yorkers or those who sided with them. One man told how a doctor, who had openly talked in favor of the Yorkers, had been swung in an armchair for two hours under the sign of the Green Mountain Tavern at Bennington, on which sign stood the stuffed hide of a great panther, a monster who showed his teeth at all enemies from New York. Most of the stories were of the exploits of Ethan Allen and his band of Green Mountain Boys. They said that Ethan Allen had caught a surveyor marking out claims for Yorkers, and had taken him prisoner and had ordered him out of the country on pain of death if they caught him there again. Then Allen had marched on to the First Falls of Otter Creek, where Yorkers had driven out some New Hampshire settlers who had built a sawmill. The Boys had sent the intruders flying at the point of their guns, and had burned their log houses and broken the stones of a gristmill the enemy had built. Then they had brought the original owners back and settled them again in possession of their houses and sawmill. All through that part of the country similar things were taking place. The men said they had word that Yorkers were planning to drive settlers off their farms not very far to the west of Dutton's. "If they do it," cried Snyder, striking his open palm with his great fist, "I want to be there to settle accounts with them!" So said all the rest; Ethan Allen and his men shouldn't have all the glory there was going.

"Big Bill" Dutton's frame house was tavern and post-office as well as trading-post and meeting-place for the settlers of the neighborhood. When Mrs. Dutton rang the dinner bell all the strangers trooped into the room back of the store and sat at the long table. Jack and Sam marched in with the others and ate their share of dinner while they listened to the talk of the men. Some of the latter were for setting out south toward Bennington immediately, in order to learn at first hand what was going on.

After dinner they all stood about the stove in the store, talking, talking, talking. Sam and Jack went outdoors and looked about the little group of cabins. A boy of near their own age came out from one of the houses and talked with them about hunting moose. As they were swapping yarns a man rode into the settlement from the southwest. At sight of the three he flung out his right arm. "Yorkers down to Beaver Falls!" he called out. "They're coming to drive our people out o' their homes! Are there any Green Mountain Boys hereabouts?"

"In there!" exclaimed Jack, pointing to the store. "Tell 'em about it in there!"

The horseman sprang from his saddle. "Fetch a blanket for my horse, will you?" said he. The boy who lived there ran indoors to get a covering. Meantime the rider strode up to Dutton's door and flung it open. He walked up to the group of men about the stove, announcing his news briefly. At his heels came Sam and Jack, and back of them came the boy from the log house opposite.

II

They started from Dutton's next morning, a troop of a dozen men and three boys, bound for Beaver Falls. "Big Bill" left his store in charge of his wife, and took command of the troop. They were all hardy and strong, and they covered the twenty miles to Beaver Falls by the middle of the afternoon.

Here there stood a sawmill on the river, with a score of log houses, and farms scattered through the neighborhood. The place looked perfectly quiet as the fifteen Green Mountain Boys trooped up to it. But they soon found there was plenty of excitement in the mill. There were gathered most of the men of the Falls, and they were very glad to see the reinforcements.

"Yorkers been found prowling round in the woods!" "Surveyors been caught in the act of staking claims!" "Jim Murdock found a paper stuck on his door, saying we'd better get out peaceful-like, and let the lawful owners have their land!" Such were some of the items of information given to Dutton's band.

"Let 'em come!" exclaimed Snyder, slapping his hand round the muzzle of his gun. "This is the law of the land we'll read to them!"

After a time Jack and Sam, having heard all there was to hear, struck out on a line of their own. They followed the bank of the river until they came to woods, and then skirted the forest southward. This brought them at length to a wide trail with frozen wheel ruts. Down this road they went, passing occasional cabins, until they came to a crossroad where they found a man looking perplexedly about him, as if undecided which road to take.

"Where's Farmer Robins' place?" he asked. "The place that used to belong to Elijah Robins."

"We don't know," said Jack. "We're strangers here."

"There's a maple grove back of it," said the stranger, "that's all I know about it. I was told to stick to this road, but they didn't say nothing about any forks in it."

"This goes to Beaver Falls," said Sam, pointing to the one they had taken, "and that," he added, indicating the crossroad to the right of him, "would take you through thick woods to the river."

"I don't reckon it's either o' those roads then," said the man, and, bobbing his head at Sam, he stalked off to the left.

The two boys watched until the man was almost hidden by the trees. Then Jack turned to Sam. "You don't want to tell all you know to strangers," he said. "Make the other man tell you what he's up to first."

Sam's round face, not nearly so shrewd as the older boy's, looked perplexed. "Why shouldn't I tell him about those other roads?" he asked.

"Because I think he may be one of the Yorkers, and the less we tell them about the lay of the land round here the better."

"Do you really think he was?" exclaimed Sam, his tone of voice showing that he had expected a Yorker to be a much more terrifying looking creature than this stranger. "What did he want of Farmer Robins' place then?"

"I don't know," answered Jack. "But I think we might be able to find out something more about it if we follow his tracks."

They turned to the west, following the road where the prints of the man's big hob-nailed boots could now and then be seen in the frozen crust of snow. The sun was setting, and the wind was rising, and they pulled their fur caps down over their ears and stuck their hands in their pockets as they trudged along. It grew dark rapidly. They passed two cabins where they looked closely for a clump of maples and then scoured the road to find the prints of the hob-nails. The man's tracks went on, and they followed, only speaking in whispers now lest they should be overheard.

At the third log house they stopped. Jack, catching Sam by the sleeve, pointed to the back of the house, where the starlight unmistakably showed a grove of trees. Smoke came from the chimney, and the front door, not quite plumb in its frame, showed there was a light inside. Jack crept round the cabin, Sam following him, each as silent as if they were stalking moose. There were four windows, but each was securely shuttered from the inside, and though light came through the cracks, the boys could see nothing of what was going on inside nor catch a sound of voices.

Then Jack made the circuit of the house again, this time examining the logs and the filling of clay between them with the greatest care. At last he found a place that seemed to interest him, and he pulled out his hunting knife from its sheath and began to pick at a knot-hole in the wood. His knife was very sharp, and he dug into the circle round the knot and then into the clay just below it. He worked swiftly and very quietly. In a short time he had the wood loosened; pressing inward with his blade he forced the knot out, and then scraped some of the plaster away. Now he had a hole that enabled him by stooping a little to look into the cabin.

He put his eye to the opening and saw about a dozen men in the room. He could hear what they said. They were, as he had suspected, Yorkers, planning to make an attack on the people at Beaver Falls. As Jack listened he pieced one remark to another, and caught the gist of their plans. They meant to march down to the Falls that night, stop at each house, rout the people out, make them prisoners in the sawmill, and take possession of houses and farms under orders from officers of the province of New York.

Jack drew away from the hole, and let Sam have a chance to look into the log-house room. When Sam had watched and listened for a few minutes he nodded to Jack, and the two stole away from the cabin as noiselessly as they had circled round it.

Out on the road, as they went hurrying back by the way they had come, they whispered to each other, telling what each had overheard. Then they went at a dog-trot to the path along the river and came to the sawmill at Beaver Falls.

Peter, "Big Bill" Dutton, Snyder, and most of the other men were at the mill, though some had been stationed on sentry-duty in the fields and woods. Jack told his story without interruption, and then the men began to plan how they should welcome the Yorkers. It was "Big Bill's" plan they finally adopted, and set to work to carry it into effect at once.

All the people at the Falls had had their supper, the women were busy cleaning up, most of the children were in bed. The men went to the houses, and told the women that they and the children must spend the night in the sawmill. Children were bundled into warm clothes, and, wondering what was happening, were hurried to the mill by their mothers. Half a dozen men under command of Snyder were stationed at the mill, the others were allotted to the different houses in the village. Two were told off to each house, and it happened that Peter and Jack stood on guard at the house nearest the Falls.

Every house at that time had its store of firearms, its powder and balls. Peter and Jack sat inside their cabin, muskets ready to hand. From time to time they threw fresh wood on the fire, for the night was cold. Jack stood at a window, looking out at the open space along the river and the road on the opposite bank, both faintly lighted by the stars. Midnight came, but there was no sign of the Yorkers; presently it seemed to Jack that it must be nearly dawn.

Peter, standing at a window on the other side of the door from Jack, suddenly said, "Look! There, coming through the trees to the left of the mill!"

Jack looked and saw men coming into the road, a good many of them, more than he thought he had seen at Farmer Robins' house. They came along the road, crossed the wooden bridge below the Falls, passed by the mill, evidently taking it for granted there would be no one there at this hour, and marched into the clearing before the log houses. There they divided into small parties, each party heading for a separate cabin.

"Ready now!" cautioned Peter. "We've got two to handle. I'll take the first."

Jack stepped back from the window and laid his hand on the bolt of the door.

"Wait till I give the word," whispered Peter.

From outside there came a loud voice. "Open your door in the name of the Sheriff of New York!" There followed knocks on the door, and other orders, all to the same intent.

Peter waited until the owner might be supposed to rouse and get to the door. Then he whispered, "Now!" Jack drew back the bolt and opened the door enough for the men to enter single file. One man stepped in, the other followed at his heels.

Peter caught the first man in his arms, and, taking him altogether unawares, threw him to the floor with a wrestler's trip. Jack, throwing his arms round the second man's knees, brought him down with a crash. Lithe and quick as an eel, Jack squirmed up to the man's chest and gripped the Yorker's throat in his hands. In a minute or two the man underneath was almost breathless. "Do you surrender?" panted Jack. The Yorker tried to nod.

Peter had wrenched his man's gun away, and was copying Jack's tactics. His man was partly stunned by the sharpness of the fall and made little attempt to free himself from Peter's grasp. Finding himself attacked by a thoroughly-prepared and resolute man, he had no notion as to how many other such men there might be in the house. It was clearly a case where it was best to save one's skin as whole as one could. So, when Peter said, "Keep still there, will you!" the Yorker grunted, "I will," and made no attempt, unarmed as he was, to try further conclusions with the sinewy hunter.

Peter had a coil of rope ready. Now he cut two lengths of this, tossed one over to Jack, who still kept his knee on the chest of his man, and used the other to tie the arms of his own prisoner. Then he helped the Yorker to his feet. Meantime Jack had followed his example with the other, and shortly both prisoners were standing before the hearth while their captors searched their pockets for firearms and knives.

"I must allow," said one of the Yorkers, "you two were mighty sharp! We figured that when you people here heard we were acting under sheriff's orders you'd do as you were told."

"We don't pay no more attention hereabouts to what a Yorker sheriff says than if he was a catamount,—no, not so much as that!" returned Peter. "What do you men mean by marching into a peaceful village an' trying to turn people out o' their lawful homes?"

"Well, the village certainly looked peaceful enough," said the Yorker, "but I don't see as how we've turned many folks out o' their homes yet."

"And I don't think you will!" Peter assured him. "Jack, take a look outside and see what's happened."

Jack went out, and going from house to house, found that wherever the Yorkers had demanded admittance the Green Mountain Boys had worked their trick beautifully. In two or three houses it had taken some time to make the enemy prisoners, but in each case the elements of surprise and determination had won the day. The Yorkers had expected to meet frightened villagers; instead they had found themselves confronting well-prepared Green Mountain Boys.

Under direction of "Big Bill" Dutton the prisoners, all with their arms securely tied behind them, were marched out into the road. "You say you came to Beaver Falls to carry out the law," said Dutton to the Yorkers; "well, to-morrow we'll march you all down to Bennington, and see what the law has to say about this business." Then he sent Sam to the sawmill with word to Snyder to have the women and children return to their own houses. When the sawmill was empty the Green Mountain Boys marched their prisoners into it, and loosened their bonds so that they could be fairly comfortable.

In spite of the high feeling between the two parties, there was practically no bad blood, for no one had been wounded in the contest, and the Yorkers could appreciate the clever way in which their opponents had turned the tables on them. In most respects the men were much alike; men of the New York Grants and the New Hampshire Grants had both gone into the wilderness and met the same problems there. Men from both provinces had fought against the French and Indians, and this little fight as to which province owned the land of the Green Mountains was in a way a family affair. So prisoners and captors swapped yarns, told hunting stories, and exchanged the news of their own neighborhoods. Jack and Sam and the boy from Dutton's sat in a corner of the mill and listened to the men. Dawn began to break in the east. Some women brought hot coffee and ham and bacon from the houses, and the men, both captors and captives, ate and drank, and then some of them stretched out on the floor and took short naps.

Day had come when one of the Green Mountain Boys, who had been stationed as sentry on the road across the river, dashed into the mill with a new alarm. He had seen some men, perhaps a dozen of them, coming down the road toward the Falls. They might be friends or they might be enemies. The men of the Falls must not be taken by surprise.

"Big Bill" quickly gave his orders. Three men, armed with muskets, were left in charge of the prisoners in the sawmill, and the rest, their guns ready for instant use if need be, marched out into the clearing between the mill and the bridge, ready to defend Beaver Falls from the newcomers in case they should be Yorkers.

III

The strangers had come to the head of the bridge on the opposite bank of the river from the sawmill when they were suddenly halted by an abrupt "Who are you—friend or foe?" They saw a big man coming round from behind the mill, followed by about twenty others, and the light was now sufficiently clear to show the strangers that these men were armed, and quite prepared to use their guns if necessary. The strangers—of whom there were ten—stopped on their side of the river.

"Big Bill," marching his men down to his end of the bridge, so as to prevent any attempt to cross it, now repeated his question, "Are you Yorkers? Or are you friends? If you're looking for a fight we're the boys as can give you one!"

The leader of the other party saw that the big fellow who spoke for Beaver Falls was telling the truth. There were twice as many Green Mountain Boys as there were men of his own party, and they looked ready for fight. In such case he instantly recognized that discretion was the better part of valor. He grounded his musket to show that he had no intention of using it, and smiled at the big man opposite. "We're peaceful folks," he declared, "and not spoiling for a fight with you."

"That's sensible talk," said Dutton, also grounding his gun, which he had been holding ready for instant use. "All the same, I reckon you be Yorkers, and weren't coming on any good business to the Falls."

"We've got orders from the proper parties in New York to take possession of this territory," admitted the other leader.

"Well, you can go back to your proper parties and tell 'em other folks have already taken possession here."

"You folks haven't got the law on your side," protested the Yorker leader.

"That depends on what law you're talking about," retorted "Big Bill." "We've got the law of New Hampshire, and I reckon that's as good law as any they make in the Yorkers' country."

The other man saw there was no more use in arguing with his opponents than in fighting them. "You're a pretty slick lot," he said in a conciliatory tone. "Can't catch you boys asleep, can we?"

"Some o' your men tried to last night," said Dutton. "We've got 'em in the sawmill now, and we're going to take 'em down to Bennington pretty soon and see what the law there has to say about men who come around trying to steal other folks' property."

"Oh, you've got 'em, have you? We were wondering where they'd got to. Well, I guess there isn't much more for us to be doing round here then."

Dutton grinned. "No, Yorkers, I don't hardly think there is. Unless you want to hand over those guns and join the party that's going down to Bennington."

"Hardly think we'd enjoy that party, neighbor," said the Yorker leader.

"Well, some of us is going south with your friends," said "Big Bill," "but there'll be plenty left here at the Falls to give you a pleasant welcome any time you want to call."

The Yorkers conferred together for a few minutes. Then the leader sang out, "Good-bye, boys. Glad to have met you!"

"Good-bye," Dutton called back. "Come again any time!" shouted Snyder. The rest of the men of the Falls sent other messages flying across the river.

The Yorkers shouldered their muskets and marched back the road, while the Green Mountain Boys cheered until the last of their opponents was hidden by the trees.

Dutton's party, including the three boys, stayed at Beaver Falls the better part of that day, waiting to see if any more Yorkers would put in an appearance. But no more came, and that afternoon, leaving a sufficient number to guard the village, they set out with their prisoners for Bennington. They spent the night at another small settlement, where the people were only too glad to give them shelter when they learned what the band had done. Next day they reached Bennington, and turned their prisoners over to the sheriff there, to be dealt with as the officers should think fit.

In Bennington, which was a very primitive town, but the center of that part of the country, Jack and Sam heard much about the border strife. They heard that the governor of New York had offered rewards for the capture of certain Green Mountain Boys, one hundred pounds apiece for the arrest of Ethan Allen and Remember Baker, fifty pounds apiece for Seth Warner and five others. The governor also ordered that any people who should resist the commands of New York officers should be arrested and taken to Albany for trial. All of "Big Bill's" party, Jack and Sam among them, were therefore now liable to be arrested by New York officers.

The people of Bennington and the Green Mountain Boys, however, only laughed at these proclamations of the New York governor. They were quite ready to defend themselves if any came to arrest them.

While they were at Bennington Ethan Allen and the others who had been declared outlaws issued a proclamation of their own. They said, "We are under the necessity of resisting even unto blood every person who may attempt to take us as felons or rioters as aforesaid, for in this case it is not resisting law, but only opposing force by force; therefore, inasmuch as, by the oppressions aforesaid, the New Hampshire settlers are reduced to the disagreeable state of anarchy and confusion; in which state we hope for wisdom, patience, and fortitude till the happy hour His Majesty shall graciously be pleased to restore us to the privileges of Englishmen."

The boys heard other gossip and rumors from the hunters and traders and farmers who came and went in Bennington. They learned that there was a plan on foot to settle the dispute about the Grants by joining them to that part of the province of New York that lay to the east of the Hudson River, and forming that whole new territory into a separate royal province. Colonel Philip Skene, who lived in state at Skenesborough House on his large estate at the head of Lake Champlain, was reported to be very much interested in this new plan, and was said to be going to England to further it, with a view to becoming the first governor of the new province.

The people of the New Hampshire Grants continued their defiance of the Yorkers. When a sheriff or surveyor from the other side of the line was caught by the people, he was, as Ethan Allen humorously put it, "severely chastised with twigs of the wilderness." The rods used, however, were the "blue beech" ones that the farmers used in driving stubborn oxen, and could hardly be considered twigs. This punishment the people of the Grants called "stamping the Yorkers with the beech seal," and many a sheriff who tried to carry out the orders of his province in the Green Mountain country went home with the "beech seal" on his back.

The officers of New York protested and protested. They sent a request to General Gage at Boston for men to aid their sheriffs in the county of Charlotte, but General Gage declined to interfere in the border struggle. And while the Yorkers fumed and vowed vengeance, Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys, like Rob Roy and his Highland outlaws, did as they pleased in the debatable land.

Peter Jones and Jack and Sam went back to their lake, ready to take the trail to Dutton's and Beaver Falls and Bennington whenever they should be needed. In early spring the boys left the hunter and joined their fathers on the farms, where there was plenty of work to be done at that time of year. There they spent the summer, planting and harvesting the crops.

Meantime a flame was smouldering in the country that was soon to burst forth into fire. Some men were not satisfied with the way in which the British government was treating its colonies in America. Conventions were held in various parts of New York and the New Hampshire Grants. The people of Dummerston, in the eastern part of the Grants, freed Lieutenant Spaulding from their jail after he had been sent there on a charge of high treason for criticizing the king of England. Troubles grew more frequent between the more independent people, known as Whigs, and the strict Royalists, or Tories. It flamed out when the time came for holding the King's Court of Cumberland County at the town of Westminster on March 14, 1775. Forty citizens of the county called on the judge, Colonel Chandler, and asked him not to hold the court. The judge said the court must meet. The Whigs thereupon decided to lay their protests before the court when it was in session. Then word spread about that the court meant to have a strong guard to prevent the citizens from attending its meetings. About a hundred men, armed only with clubs that they picked up from a wood-pile, marched into the court-house at Westminster late in the afternoon of March 14th. They meant to make the judges listen to their complaints. Meantime down the main street came the sheriff, with a strong force of armed men and the court officers. He halted in front of the door, and demanded admission. He got no answer from the men inside the building. Then he read aloud the king's proclamation, commanding all persons unlawfully gathered there to disperse at once; and he added that if they didn't come out in fifteen minutes he "would blow a lane through them!"

The men in the building answered that they would not disperse, but would let the sheriff and the court officers come in if they would lay aside their arms. The clerk of the court drew his pistol, and swore that that was the only way in which he would parley with such rascals. Judge Chandler, however, found a chance when the sheriff's men were seeking refreshments at the tavern to tell the citizens that the arms had been brought without his consent, and added that the Whigs might stay in the court-house until the next morning, when the officers would come in without arms and would listen to any petitions.

Dusk encircled the little town that lay close to the broad Connecticut River. The Whigs stayed in the court-house, a single sentry stationed at the door. The people shut their houses for the night, while the tavern did a good business. Some of the Whigs fell asleep on the court-room benches, others listened to the stories of old Indian-fighters.

Then, about midnight, the sentry at the door saw the sheriff and his men coming from the tavern, where they had been drinking all the evening. He gave the word to the men in the court-house to man the doors. The sheriff's force marched to within ten rods of the main door and halted. The order was given to fire. Three shots answered the order. A louder order was given, followed by a volley that killed one of the defenders, fatally wounded another, and severely wounded a number of others. Then the sheriff's party rushed in on the defenders, who were only armed with clubs, and taking some of them prisoners, carried them off to jail. Some of the Whigs escaped, fighting their way through the sheriff's force with their clubs.

Here, at the town of Westminster, in the Grants, the first blows were struck that preceded the coming Revolution.

Those of the men who escaped from the court-house carried the news of the bloodshed to the Whigs all through the neighboring country, and so quickly that before noon of the next day two hundred armed men reached Westminster from the province of New Hampshire. Before that night every one who had had a part in the shooting of the citizens at the court-house was seized and held under a strong guard. Still more Whigs, roused by the story of what the king's officers had done, poured into the little town from the southern part of the county, and even from the colony of Massachusetts, so that by the following day it was said there were in the little village five hundred soldiers all ready for war.

All these men met and voted to choose a committee to act for them and see that justice was done. This committee ordered that all those who were known to have taken part in the shooting should be put on trial at the next court. Then the men of the Grants, and those from New Hampshire and from Massachusetts, went back home.

But the men of the Grants heard news later that spring of 1775 that made them forget the affair that was called "the Westminster Massacre," and the trial of the sheriff's soldiers was neglected in the whirl of far more exciting events. One day in April came the word that the farmers of Lexington and Concord had fired on the redcoats who marched out from Boston. The spirit of revolt, smouldering so long, leaped into instant flame at the news. All through the colonies from New Hampshire down to Georgia men vowed to stand beside the farmers of Massachusetts and defy His Majesty, King George the Third. The men of the Grants, who had been resisting the orders of the royal governor of New York, the Green Mountain Boys, who had driven Yorkers time and again from their country, were among the first to arm for independence. And Yorker fought side by side with Green Mountain Boy in the war of the Revolution.

Peter Jones, and Jack and Sam, Snyder, "Big Bill" Dutton, and the others who had made the stand at Beaver Falls, were among the men and boys who flocked to the flag of Ethan Allen when he took the field in the Green Mountain country. And Ethan Allen's Boys won some of the greatest victories of the Revolution, at Crown Point and Fort Ticonderoga on Lake Champlain, and in many battles along the Canadian border. The people of the Grants also met and declared their territory a free republic, belonging neither to New Hampshire on the east nor to New York on the west, and choosing for themselves the beautiful name of Vermont, which means Green Mountain.

Thirteen states formed the original union of the United States, and Vermont became the fourteenth state of the Union in 1791. By that time Green Mountain Boys had become a name of great honor, and the Yorkers were their staunchest friends and allies.