With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga

by W. Bert Foster

“But suppose he comes with a big force? And we cannot expect the neighbors to neglect their own homes,” said Enoch. “I will try and see Captain Baker, if you think it best, mother.”

“Captain Baker will help us. He knows how hard it would be if the Yorkers stripped us of our all. He is a kind-hearted man, though often rude and fretful.”

“Well, marm, he has cause to be fretful,” said Enoch. “Perhaps we can get a few of the boys to stay with us nights for awhile.”

And this they did, for Captain Baker sent three or four sturdy Green Mountain Boys around to the widow’s farm every night for a week. But the Yorker and his crew did not appear. At this time, when he might have been of such assistance to them, ’Siah Bolderwood was away. He had recently bought a track of land on the lake shore not far from Old Ti and had gone to look it over and build some sort of a camp there, thus utilizing his time to good advantage before the trapping season began.

Even after their fears were lulled, either Enoch or Bryce remained always in sight of the house. But about a fortnight after the hog-killing frolic an incident occurred which served to take both Bryce and Enoch away from the cabin. There had been a second fall of snow and the nights were becoming very cold. But all the wild animals had not yet sought their winter sleeping quarters, for there descended upon the Hardings’ hog-pen an old bear who evidently desired one more meal of succulent pork before retiring to his burrow. The remaining swine were shut up now in a close yard of logs; but the bear got over that fence with ease.

The trouble occurred in the early morning and aroused by the clamor Enoch, despite the inch or two of snow on the ground, grabbed the rifle and ran out just as he got out of bed and without shoes or stockings. But when he saw the huge bear seeking to climb out of the enclosure, hugging a lively shote to his furry breast, the boy was not likely to notice the cold and snow. He climbed the end logs of the hog-pen himself so as to get a shot at the marauder, and rested the rifle on the top rail; but the logs were slippery and just as he pulled the trigger he went down himself and the charge flew high over the bear’s head, while Enoch sprawled most ungracefully on the ground.

The old bear uttered a wild “oof-oof!” and without trying to climb the barrier again, flung his huge body against it and a length of the fence went down with a crash. By this time Bryce, who had kept the old musket by his side since Crow Wing’s warning, and slept in the loft, was aroused by the disturbance, and he pushed up the corner of the bark roof and blazed away at the beast just as it scrambled through the wreck of the hog fence. The bear had continued to cling to the squealing and kicking shote, for bruin is a strangely perverse and obstinate creature, unwilling to give up what he has once set his mind upon. There was a wild shriek of agony from the poor pig and when the bear moved clumsily away still clinging to the porker there was a broad trail of blood on the snow.

“I shot him! I shot him!” yelled Bryce, dodging down into the loft and beginning to hastily pull on his breeches. But when he came down-stairs Enoch had returned to the house and was calmly dressing. “Why didn’t ye foller him?” demanded the younger boy. “He’s bad wounded. He’d dropped that shote in a minute.”

“You killed the shote all right,” said Enoch in disgust. “Neither of the shots touched the bear at all. There’s no use chasing after the critter now. We’ll wait till after breakfast. He won’t go far, lugging that shote.”

The bear was fat and in the best possible condition for salting down for winter use. So even Mrs. Harding had no objection to make when the boys started after breakfast to follow the trail. She herself, with the help of the younger children, collected the hogs in the pen again and put up the log fence. Meanwhile Nuck and Bryce found that the bear had made for a piece of swamp about two miles away. The swamp was close grown with saplings and brush, while here and there a monster tree shot skyward. Some of these big trees were so old that they had become hollow and without doubt there was more than one lair of wild creatures in the swamp.