“You must not go,” said she to Dennis. “We need you here.”
“Who?”
“I—spies swarm; the Governor is all of the time in peril. I can trust your heart.”
“He must go,” said the Governor. “The powder-wagon needs him more than I do. I shall be guarded. I can hear the wings; the rocks of Lebanon are not firmer than my faith. Powder is the battle. Go, Dennis, go. Our powder told at Bunker Hill; they will need it again.”
Dennis and the shepherd-boy went, guarding the powder.
“Good-by, Governor,” said Dennis. “We leave the heavens behind us still.”
What a time that was! Every Whig forgot his own self and interests in the cause. No one looked for any pay for anything. The cattle, the sheep, the corn and grain, all belonged to the cause. Everything followed the suggestion of the great Governor’s heart.
Tories and spies came to Lebanon with plots in their hearts, but they went away again. Ships down the river landed men, who came to Lebanon with evil intents; but they looked at the Governor from the tavern window, as he crossed the green, and went away again.
The school for the training of Indian missionaries, that had been founded in Lebanon and that had trained Occum, who became the marvelous Indian preacher, had been removed to a log-house college on the upper Connecticut now, where it was to become Dartmouth College. But Indians still came to the green, and heard the cannon thunder with wonder.