They had just sat down to supper when there came a rap on the door followed by the entrance of a tall man in a fur jacket with a gun slung across his back. He was John Snyder, a hunter from the country north of the lake, and he had met the three in the cabin several times before.
"H-mm," said he, "that fish smells mighty good. I haven't tasted fish for a month o' Sundays."
"Pitch right in," invited Peter, setting out another tin plate and pouring a cup of coffee for the new arrival.
Snyder pulled off his cap and gloves, and threw off his fur coat, showing a buckskin jacket underneath. He ate like a man who hadn't tasted food for a month. After a while he said, "They say up where I come from that thar's trouble down Bennington way. If the Yorkers want trouble I reckon we can supply 'em good and proper. I'm on my way to Dutton's, and thar's more of the Boys comin' on down through the woods. Why don't you come along with me in the morning?"
"We was planning to go when we'd got a few more skins," said Peter. "But we've got a fair-sized stock, an' I don't know but what we might go along with you."
"That's what the word is," said Snyder. "Green Mountain Boys to Bennington." He looked hardy and tough, a typical pioneer, quite as ready to fight as he was to hunt or farm.
That night the guest slept on the floor before the fire, rolled in a blanket, and soon after dawn next morning the four set out, pulling two heavy sleds to which the furs and skins were securely strapped.
All four of the party were used to long trips on foot, often carrying considerable baggage. There were few post-roads through that part of the country, and horses would have been little use in traveling through such rough and wooded stretches. So most of the new settlers, and particularly those who were hunters, copied the customs of the Indians and trained themselves to long journeys afoot, varied occasionally by canoeing when they reached open water. The party of four traveled fast, in spite of the heavy sleds. Peter Jones, not very tall but very wiry, all sinew and muscle, and Sam, red-haired, freckle-faced, and rather stocky, pulled one sled, and big, raw-boned, weather-beaten Snyder, and slim, Indian-like Jack the other.
Presently they left the lake and came into more open country, where they could see snow-powdered hills stretching away to the clear blue horizon. Now they made better time, for there was no underbrush to catch the sleds and stop them. On they went until they saw a number of cabins grouped about a larger frame building, then they broke into a run, and dashed up with a shout before Dutton's trading-post.
The shout brought three or four men out to see what was the matter. They called the newcomers by name, and "Big Bill" Dutton, seeing the sleds, told Peter Jones to bring his furs inside. Jack and Sam and Peter unstrapped the furs and carried them into the house, where they were spread out on a long counter, over which Dutton was accustomed to buy whatever farmers and hunters and trappers might have for sale, and in return to sell them provisions or clothing or guns or powder and shot or whatever he might have that they wanted.