Even now Nathan would have made good his escape without an effort to secure the weapons, and pressed his comrade’s arm to 217 intimate that there was no time to be lost; but Isaac, dropping to his hands and knees, crept toward Master Wentworth.
When the plan had so far succeeded that they were on their feet, a bold scheme came into Isaac’s head, and he believed now was come the time for him to gain the good opinion of Corporal ’Lige, if he should be so fortunate as to see the old soldier again.
Moving with infinite care, and giving no heed to what Nathan might be doing, the boy crept to Master Wentworth’s side, and it was with difficulty he repressed a cry of exultation as his fingers closed over the musket.
Cautiously rising to his feet, and at the same instant assuring himself the flint was in place, but forgetting that he had no powder with which to prime the weapon, Isaac stepped back to where he had left his comrade.
Nathan was no longer there, but from a short distance away came a slight rustling of the foliage, and Isaac waited, his heart beating so violently that it seemed positive the thumping must awaken their enemies.
Before Corporal ’Lige’s recruit could have counted twenty, Nathan stood by his side, and it needed but one touch of the hand to tell the former that all the weapons had been secured.
Young Beman had done his work well, for he not only held the two muskets, but a powder-horn well filled, and a shot pouch heavy with bullets.
Now it was that, having all the advantage, Nathan began to be sensible of a glow of patriotism, and he whispered to his comrade as he carefully primed one of the muskets:
“It wouldn’t be a hard task to take these 219 fellows into Sudbury, if we had something with which to fetter their hands.”
“My mother made the cloth of this coat I am wearing, and I promise that it’s as strong as a rope.”