Page 21 - A Hero of Ticonderoga
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of the fence, to the tune of "Uncle Dan, Uncle Dan, Uncle Dan, Dan, Dan,"
which would not scare the wise old veteran from his steadfast waiting.
The indolent fluting of the hermit thrushes rang languidly through the leafy
chambers of the forest, and the wood pewees sang their pensive song on the
bordering boughs, too content with song and mere existence to chase the
moth that wavered nearest their perch. The languor of their notes pervaded
all the senses of the boy, and, with his body in the shade of the log fence
and his bare feet in the sunshine, he fell into a doze.
Suddenly he was awakened by an alarmed outcry of the crow, now
sweeping in narrow circles above some new intruder upon his domain.
Then he became aware of strange voices, the tramp of feet, the swish of
branches pushed aside regaining their places, a metallic clink, and
occasional lightly delivered axe strokes. Mounting the topmost log of the
fence, and shading his eyes with his hands, he peered into the twilight of
the woods. To this his eyes had hardly accustomed themselves, when he
saw what sent flashes of anger and chills of dread chasing one another
through his veins. But a few rods away, and coming towards him, were two
men, one bearing the end of a surveyor’s chain and a bundle of wire rods,
the other carrying an axe and gun. A little behind these were two men
similarly equipped, and still further in the rear, half hidden by the screen of
undergrowth, more figures were discovered, one of whom was squinting
through the sights of a compass, whose polished brass glittered in a stray
sunbeam. Nathan was sure this must be the party of the New York surveyor
of whom there had been a rumor in the settlement, and he felt that trouble
was at hand.
"Hello, here’s a clearin’," the foremost man, as he ran to the fence, called
back to the one at the other end of the chain. "Jenkins, tell Mr. Felton
there’s a fenced clearin’ here,--and boy," now deigning to notice so
insignificant an object.
"Stake," cried Jenkins.