“The spy.”
“Ah! I thought so. Well, we can’t help the poor wretch now. Can you aid yourself at all? Brace up, man!”
“I’m–I’m all right,” the youth declared, finally shaking off the feeling which had numbed him. “Let me get a grip on your boat–there! Now you can paddle ashore. I’ll not lose my hold this time.”
“Right it is, then.” The rescuer paddled slowly toward the bateaus. When he came to the shore with the boy dragging behind him, Bolderwood and several other members of the company had arrived in answer to the expiring scream of the drowned Yorker. Upon hearing the explanation of the affair the chief scout’s face became grave indeed. “The poor wretch has gone to his just desarts, I don’t doubt,” he said. “But so sudden–so sudden! It seems a turrible thing, friends, for a man to live the life he lived and then to go before his Maker without no preparation. He murdered poor Jonas Harding as sure as aigs is aigs, an’ he tried twice ter kill the boy here, an’ burned the widder’s home. Yet I’d wished him time to make his peace with God. It’s an awful affair.... But come!” he added, recovering himself, “there’s something else to do now. We’ve got word from Colonel Allen. The troops are almost here. An’ as good as we’ve done, there ain’t ha’f enough boats to transport our boys across the lake.”
“There may be more comin’ from the north, ’Siah,” suggested Brown. “Y’ know ye sent some of the boys up that way this arternoon.”
“Small hope o’ their gettin’ anything—”
The chief scout’s words were interrupted by a shout from one of the others. Around the point which defended the little cove a boat was appearing–or, rather, a lantern which betrayed the approach of a boat. “Here’s another!” was the cry. “Here’s Major Skeene’s big bateau–an’ Major Skeene’s nigger, too!” as the loud and angry voice of a black man was heard across the calm water.
“The boys are having a hard time with our black-and-tan friend,” said Bolderwood with a chuckle. Then he held up his hand for silence. “Hark! there’s the ring of a horse’s hoof–and the tramp of feet. The troops are coming.”
With a rattle of accoutrements a cavalcade of horsemen descended the bluff to the tiny cove. Enoch recognized Colonel Allen, Major Warner, the stranger, Arnold, and Colonel Easton, the commander of the Massachusetts and Connecticut forces. “Praise the Lord, ’Siah!” cried the hearty voice of the Green Mountain leader. “We’re arrived at last. ’Twas like a task of Hercules to get here. And the night is already far gone. Where are your boats, man?”
“The bulk of ’em are right here, Colonel. We ain’t got what I wished; but we’ve taken ’em from friend and foe, and here comes the last of my boys with Major Skeene’s big raft and, if I ain’t mighty mistaken, with a bag o’ charcoal aboard that must ha’ caused ’em consider’ble trouble.”