“Oh, mother, they’re carryin’ the stones and fixin’s for the new mill, and the man says they’ll be ready for grindin’ before winter sets in. Then it’ll be good-by to you, old ’Up-an’-down,’ and good riddance to bad rubbage,” and he brought the pestle down with energy on the half-pounded grist of samp.
“Don’ revile the plumpin’ mill, Nathan. It’s been a good friend in time o’ need. Mebby you’ll miss the trips to Skeenesborough with your father. You’ve always lotted on them.”
“Yes, but I’d rather go to the Fort and play with the boys, any day, and I’ll have more time when samp poundin’ is done and ended.”
He had been with his father twice to the Fort to see its wonders, and, brief as the visits were, they sufficed to make him acquainted with the boys of the garrison, and, for the time, a partner in their games. Before the summer was out, the little Yankee became a great favorite with the few English and Irish boys whose fathers were soldiers of the little garrison. He taught them how to shoot with his hornbeam bow and spiked arrows, and many another bit of woodcraft learned of his fast friend Job, while they taught him unheard-of games, and told him tales of the marvellous world beyond the sea, a world that was as a dream to him.
His Yankee inquisitiveness made him acquainted with every nook and corner of the fortification, and he was even one day taken into the commandant’s quarters, that the beautiful wife of that fine gentleman might see from what manner of embryo grew these Yankees, who were becoming so troublesome to His Majesty, King George. She was so pleased with his frank, simple manner and shrewd answers that she dismissed him with a bright, new English shilling, the largest sum that he had yet possessed.
“Really, William,” she afterwards remarked to her husband, “if this be a specimen of your terrible Yankees, they be very like our own people, in speech and actions, only sharper witted, and they surely show close kinship with us in spite of such long separation.”
“You little know them,” said Captain Delaplace, laughing. “They are a turbulent, upstart breed. I fear only a sound drubbing, and, perhaps, the hanging of a score of their leaders, will teach them obedience to His Majesty.”
“I would be sorry to have this little man drubbed or hanged,” said she, with a sigh; “surely he is not of the stuff rebels are made of.”
“The very stuff, my dear. Bold and self-reliant, and impatient of control, as you may see. If ever there comes an outbreak of these discontented people, I warrant you’ll find this boy deserving the drubbing and getting it, too, for His Majesty’s troops would make short work of such rabble.”