Embarkation began at once under the superintendence of Allen, Arnold, and Warner. Nathan found himself with the first two in the leading boat, Warner being left in charge of the party remaining on the eastern shore. At a low word of command, the flotilla swept out of the flickering glare of the fire into the darkness. It passed down the creek and was soon upon the lake, heading for the other shore, being guided to the chosen landing by the mountain peaks that loomed black against the western sky. The night was windless. The shrill piping of hylas, the monotonous trill of toads, and the rush of running brooks filled the air. Such sounds faded out as the middle of the lake was reached, where nothing was heard but the light plash of muffled oars, to rise again in increasing volume from the other shore.
As the last boat grounded on the shelving beach, Nathan was startled by the loud, hollow hoot of an owl, uttered thrice, almost in his ear. A few moments later there came, like an echo from the distant creek, the answer to this preconcerted signal of safe arrival. The men quickly disembarked, and the boats returned to those who, under Seth Warner, were eagerly awaiting their turn.
Those who had made the passage tramped to and fro to stir their blood, for there was a creeping chill in the night air. The first light of dawn was stealing up the eastern sky, the woods and mountains showing in sharp relief against it, yet no signs came to strained eyes and ears of the returning boats.
“The lazy-bones,” growled Allen, forgetting the long distance. “What has gone wrong? Daylight will betray us if we wait much longer. What do you say, my men—shall we wait, and maybe lose our best chance of success, or go on with what strength we have?”
There was a murmur of universal assent, and Allen commanded:
“Fall in, in three ranks!”
Instantly the men formed in the order of the ranger service. “I want no man to go against his will. You that wish to go with me, poise arms.” Every gun was brought to the position.
“Shoulder arms! Right face! Forward, march!”
Before the last word was fairly given, Arnold stepped in front of the speaker.
“I swear,” he cried, shaken with his passion, “I will not yield my right. I planned this enterprise. My money set it on foot. I swear I will command, and not yield my right to Ethan Allen or the devil.”