“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 titles to land taken under the “New Hampshire 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.