There was a muttered growl of dissatisfaction among the men, and Allen was raging. “What shall I do with this fellow? Put him under guard?” he asked, turning to one of his captains.
“Gentlemen,” said Captain Callender, a staid and quiet man, “for the sake of the good cause, don’t quarrel. Yield a little, both of you. Share the command equally, and enter the Fort side by side.”
Allen returned his half-drawn sword to its scabbard and said bluffly: “For the sake of the cause I agree to this.” The Connecticut colonel sullenly assented, and the three columns moved briskly along the shore, led by the two colonels marching side by side, till, through the branches of the budding trees, the leaders saw close before them the walls of Ticonderoga, looming dark and vague in the gray of the morning.
[CHAPTER XVI—TICONDEROGA]
A halt was silently signalled, and Job, the skilfullest scout of all this band of woodsmen, was sent forward to reconnoitre. Silently, as a ghost, his tall figure melted into the obscurity of dawn, and presently appeared, out of the blur of shadows, bearing whispered tidings that all was quiet within the Fort, and only one sentinel carelessly guarding the open wicket of the main entrance.
A whispered word of command drifted back along the ranks and the troops moved forward. They mounted a slight declivity and advanced to the right toward the gate. Now the sentinel could be seen pacing his beat; now the white cross-belts and the facings of his uniform made out, and still he maintained his deliberate pace, unconscious of the enemy, while, perhaps, his thoughts were far away in the green fields of merry England, where the hawthorn was blooming and the lark singing “at heaven’s gate.”
The heads of the files were close upon him when his wandering thoughts were suddenly recalled. Too much surprised to challenge or call an alarm, he levelled his fusee at Allen’s towering figure and pulled the trigger. The life of the bold chieftain hung for an instant in the trembling balance of fate, but not a spark followed the stroke of the flint. The guard turned and fled through the open wicket with Allen and Arnold, side by side, close upon his heels. After them came Nathan; and the crowding files of men swarmed through the narrow gate in an impetuous rush, and, guided by the boy, onto the parade. This was enclosed on three sides by lofty stone barracks. Here they caught a last glimpse of the flying sentry dodging into a bombproof, like a woodchuck into a hole. Another sentinel made a bayonet thrust at Nathan, when Allen’s sword fell quick as a thunderbolt upon the man’s head in a downright blow that must have cleft the skull, had it not glanced on a metal comb that held his hair in place.
The assailants quickly formed in two ranks, facing outward upon the east and west lines of barracks, and gave three cheers that made the gray walls ring with quick, rebounding echoes.
“Quick, my boy, show me the commandant’s quarters,” said Allen, and his guide led to a flight of outer stairs arising to the upper story of the south barracks. Ascending them, Allen shouted:
“Come forth, commandant, come forth.” But receiving no answer he thundered on the door with the pommel of his sword and shouted still louder: