“Indeed, so brave a man as I well know you to be, is most welcome, and, by the Great Jehovah, if the men don’t object, you shall be second in command.”
A shout of approval went up from the men, who gathered around their camp fires again, while Allen and Arnold, together with Warner, walked apart in amicable consultation. Soon the first called loudly for any information concerning a lad named Nathan Beeman. At the sound of his name, Nathan started, blushed, hesitated, and then stepped bashfully forward, and was quickly recognized by Allen in spite of his added stature.
“Here, this is the youngster, Colonel Arnold, that Mr. John Brown tells of in this paper, whom he saw and conversed with last winter about Ticonderoga.”
The two colonels then asked the boy many questions about the Fort, its entrance, the interior, the number of the garrison, and the disposal of the sentinels. Evidently satisfied with his straightforward replies, Allen said, low and impressively:
“You have such a chance to serve your country as don’t often fall to a boy. Will you lead us into the Fort to-night? Will you do it faithfully?”
Nathan looked steadily into the earnest, searching eyes fixed upon him, but did not answer.
“Speak,” cried Allen, sharply.
“If the commandant’s lady won’t be hurt, I will,” he said at last, his left hand thrust into his pocket, fumbling his cherished shilling piece.
Allen laughed good-humoredly. “So the lady is a friend of yours. Well, never fear. We may disturb her morning nap, but she shall not be harmed. We are not waging war in the wilderness against women and children. Here, my boy, stick this twig of hemlock in your hat. Don’t you see we’ve all mounted it? There, now,” as he himself put the evergreen sprig in Nathan’s hatband, “you wear the Green Mountain Boy’s cockade. See that you never disgrace it.”
The boy thrilled with pride as he walked with measured step behind the stately chieftain and his lithely built companion. Presently the sound of oars was heard and a large batteau swept into the landing, navigated by two of Newton’s sons, who gleefully related how, with a jug of rum, they had lured Skeene’s old negro with the coveted craft into their toils, as he was voyaging homeward from Crown Point. It was capable of carrying twenty-five persons and was a welcome prize. Though one by one, and in little flotillas, boats continued to arrive, still, at two o’clock in the early May morning, there were not enough to transport half the men gathered. After brief consultation, it was determined that as many as possible should at once cross to the other shore and there await the coming of the others in the returning boats.