Page 35 - A Hero of Ticonderoga

"Come in, men!"

The door swung violently open, and Job Carpenter, with all the
arms-bearing men of the wide neighborhood, to the number of a dozen,

came marching in, in Indian file, with rifle or smooth-bore at a trail. In the
rear was Nathan, unarmed, but eager to see all that should transpire.

Felton and Graves lost their bold demeanor, yet held their places, while
their men slunk to the farther side of the room in dumb affright, save

Jenkins, the cook, who, dodging this side and that of Allen’s burly form,
hovered near his frying-pans in a divided fear for his own safety and that of
his pork.

"Keep every one of these men under close guard, my boys," Allen

commanded, "especially these two chief offenders. Now, Mr. Felton,
perhaps it is made plain to you that I am not your prisoner, and that the
gods of the valleys are not the gods of the hills. Behold how riches take to

themselves wings and fly away even before they are possessed. In witness
whereof, consider the hundred pounds offered by your Governor for an

honest man. No wonder he longs for the sight of one, with such a pack of
thieves and land jobbers as he has about him."

"An honest man?" cried Felton, trembling with rage. "A ruffian! A rioter! A
defier of law!" and he poured forth a torrent of opprobrious names, and a

full measure of curses, till out of breath.

"Go on, Master Felton, go on," said Allen, smiling benignly upon him.

"Ease yourself. Unless it be prayer, which you rarely employ, I doubt, there
is nothing like good round cursing to relieve an overburdened heart. Upon

occasion I avail myself of the remedy. Pray go on, or give your friend a
chance. Mr. Graves, you have the floor," but the man addressed only
glowered savagely.

"Well, if you have offered all your burnt offerings of brimstone, let the men

have their supper and make themselves strong for their journey. Dish up the
pork, cook, that you have been bumping my legs to get at, and bring out