Seth listened attentively until the men and their work had been described minutely, and then, without a word, resumed the trimming of the great hemlock he had just felled. As Nathan waited for some response, he knew by his father’s knitted brow that his thoughts were busy. At length, breaking off a twig of hemlock, he came to his son and said, handing the evergreen to him:
“Take this to Newton’s and show it to the men folks, and say ‘There’s trouble to Beeman’s,’ and then go on and do the same at every house, ’round to Job’s, and show it to him and tell him the‘ same, and do whatever he tells you. Be spry, my boy; I must stay here and ta’ care of mother and Sis. Keep in the woods till you get clear of the Yorkers, then take the road and clipper.”
[CHAPTER V—THE EVERGREEN SPRIG]
Understanding the importance of his errand and guessing its purpose, Nathan skulked stealthily along the heavily-wooded border of the highway till past all chance of discovery, when he took the easier course of the road. The ecstatic melody of the thrushes’ song and the pensive strain of the pewee had not changed, yet now they were instinct with cheer and acceleration, as was the merry drumbeat of the flicker on a dry branch overhead.
Presently, as he held his steady pace, splashing through puddles and pattering along firmer stretches, he heard sharp and loud footfalls in rapid approach. Before his first impulse to strike into the ready cover of the woods was carried into effect, a horseman galloped around the turn, and he was face to face with a handsome stranger, whose tall, well-knit figure, heightened by his seat on horseback, towered above the boy like a giant.
“Hello,” said the man, reining up his horse, “and where are you bound in such a hurry, and who might you be?” His clear gray eyes were fixed on Nathan, who noticed pistols in the holsters, a long gun across the saddle bow, and, in the cocked hat, a sprig of evergreen.
“I’m Seth Beeman’s boy,” Nathan answered, pointing in the direction of his home, “and I’m goin’ to neighbor Newton’s of an arrant.”
“Ah,—Beeman,—a good man, I’m told. And what might take you to neighbor Newton’s in such a hurry? Has that hemlock twig in your hand anything to do with your errand?” demanded the stranger, in an imperative but kindly voice. “Speak up. You need not be afraid of me.”
Nathan looked up inquiringly at the bold, handsome face smiling down on him.
“Did you ever hear of Ethan Allen?” asked the stranger.