He found that his mother and the children had already put up the shutters and made ready to receive the Yorkers. The cattle were shut in the yard surrounding the barn and the smaller children were put in their mother’s bed to be out of the way. Bryce went into the loft where he could watch for the appearance of the enemy; but Enoch remained outside the door, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, ready to parley with the Yorkers who soon were reported by Bryce as coming through the lower fields.
CHAPTER XI
AN UNEQUAL BATTLE
A masterful spirit had entered into Enoch Harding during the past few months. He was no longer a child; he thought and acted as a man in many things. Now, with this danger threatening them all, he did not shrink from the ordeal, and none might know his inmost feelings from the expression of his face. He did not speak to his mother, nor did she seek to advise him. Long before they had talked this emergency over, and it had been agreed that the homestead must and should be defended even to the point of firing on the Yorkers who might come to dispossess them. The legal authority claimed by Simon Halpen was not recognized in the Grants and did the Hardings put themselves in Halpen’s power by agreeing to let the New York authorities arbitrate the matter, they would lose all that they had toiled and suffered for during the past ten years.
The widow saw that the windows of the cabin were shuttered and that Bryce had both powder and bullets beside him in the loft. Then she went into her own chamber and falling upon her knees prayed as only a mother can whose children are in bodily and imminent danger. How far the Yorkers would dare go–to what lengths Halpen might force the fight for the ox-bow farm–it was impossible even to imagine. He was a cruel and unscrupulous man, but he had already had a taste of the temper of the Bennington settlers and perhaps the remembrance of the beech-sealing which had been dealt out to him two years and more before, would make him chary of coming to blows.
Soon the six Yorkers appeared around the corner of the log fence which enclosed the cattleyard. Four of them, including Halpen, were armed with guns. The surveyor and his assistant carried their tools only, and walked in the rear of the more warlike quartette. Their leader, his lean, black face clouded by a threatening scowl, strode across the home lot and approached the cabin door. His beady eyes glittered and when he was enraged his hooked nose seemed to glow a dull red beneath the dusky skin, like a half-heated iron.
Simon Halpen was much better dressed than the citizens of Bennington were apt to be, and he carried himself haughtily. His hair was done carefully and the queue tied with a silk ribbon. His rifle was silver-mounted and his powder-horn was partly of silver filagree work. In every way–dress, accoutrements and manner–he bore out the account the Hardings had received of him, that he was a wealthy and proud man. The three other armed men were fellows of the baser sort, hired at Albany for the purpose of driving the widow and her children from their home.
Enoch Harding thought this as he saw the party approach, and his heart beat faster while his cheeks were dyed with crimson. Should these men march up and deprive his mother and brothers and sisters of their home? Not as long as he held a gun and had powder and shot with which to load it! The fearful thought of shooting down one or more of these men in cold blood did not shock him now. The bitterness which filled his heart against Simon Halpen overbore any other emotion. He raised his rifle threateningly and cried aloud: “Halt there–halt I say! What d’ye want on our land?”
THE BOY STOOD LIKE A STATUE