Nathan’s answer was a short, incredulous laugh, as he helped Job make ready for disembarkation. As they marched in straggling ranks toward Fort Ticonderoga, Nathan was accosted by one of the young Newtons, who had remained there during the northern expedition.
“Look a-here, Nate,” he said, drawing him aside, “there’s some trouble to your mother’s. She’s sent word for you to come right home. Old Toombs is dead or run off to Canerdy, or something. I don’t know the rights on’t. But, anyhow, she wants you bad.”
Either the death or the absconding of his stepfather was too good news to be true, and his first duty was to serve his mother. He and Job readily obtained leave of absence, though it was scarcely needed, so lax was the military discipline of the crudely organized forces. The two at once set forth, and an hour’s paddling of the light birch canoe brought them to the landing in the creek.
As they emerged from the shadow of the woods into the broad sunlight of the clearing, their first glance sought the house standing in the midst of green grass and springing grain. The scene was in such apparent peace and quietude as it might have been lapped, if all the turmoil of war and strife were a thousand miles removed. As Nathan’s eyes ran over the familiar fields in which he had spent so many hours in the companionship of his father, his heart was softened with the sad and solemn memory. Then it hardened in a fire of wrath that flamed up at the remembrance of what he had suffered from his father’s successor, and he felt if he should meet the wretch he would wreak summary vengeance upon him.
Soon they were at the open door and looking in upon the homely kitchen. It was empty but for the figure of a man slouching inertly in an armchair before the fireplace. There was no mistaking the shock of grizzled red hair, nor the brawny shoulders, though they were stooped and curved together.
The light tread of Nathan’s moccasined feet did not disturb the melancholy figure, with its drooping head and vacant eyes staring into the fire, nor did it move till he laid his hand on its shoulder. Then the face turned upon him a slow, dazed stare, that as slowly kindled into recognition, then froze into a rigid glare of inexpressible terror. An inarticulate cry came from the white lips, while the helpless form strove to arouse itself from the living death of palsy.
Nathan cast upon Job a look of appalled, beseeching inquiry. As he met its answer in the awed face of his friend, resentment of past injuries faded out of his heart, as he realized that a mighty hand had forestalled his revenge, and he felt nothing but pity for the abject being that crouched before him.
“It’s come out about as I told you,” said Job, “but I wan’t expectin’ nothin’ like this, poor critter. He thinks you’re a spirit come to haunt him.” Then he called loudly to the figure, “It’s the boy. It’s Nathan, alive and well. Don’t be afeared, he won’t hurt ye.”
There were footsteps at the threshold, and Ruth and Martha entered, pausing a moment with wondering faces, which presently kindled with joy, and Nathan was clasped in their arms. When the first flush of joyful meeting was spent, Ruth explained in answer to her son’s whispered question and his nod toward the dumb figure:
“He sort o’ broke down after the guard went away, an’ t’other day we found him all of a heap down by a big hemlock log that he never got round to cut up. He hain’t seemed to sense much since. He’s been dreadful worried about you, Nathan, all along, ever since you went away.”