Page 21 - A Hero of Ticonderoga
P. 21

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.
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