“You little know them,” said Captain Delaplace, laughing. “They are a turbulent, upstart breed. I fear only a sound drubbing, and, perhaps, the hanging of a score of their leaders, will teach them obedience to His Majesty.” “I would be sorry to have this little man drubbed or hanged,” said she, with a sigh; “surely he is not of the stuff rebels are made of.” “The very stuff, my dear. Bold and self-reliant, and impatient of control, as you may see. If ever there comes an outbreak of these discontented people, I warrant you’ll find this boy deserving the drubbing and getting it, too, for His Majesty’s troops would make short work of such rabble.” CHAPTER IV—THE NEW HAMPSHIRE GRANTS A year later, the dispute of the Governors of New York and New Hampshire, concerning the boundaries of the two provinces, was at its height, and the quarrel between claimants of grants of the same lands, under charters from both governors, became every day more violent. The disputed territory was that between the Connecticut River and Lake Champlain, and was for a long time known as the New Hampshire Grants. If a New York grantee found the claim which he had selected, or which had been allotted to him, occupied by a New Hampshire grantee, when the strength of his party was sufficient he would take forcible possession of the land, without regard to the improvements made upon it, and without making any compensation therefor. He was seldom left long in enjoyment of possession thus gained, for the friends of the New Hampshire grantee quickly rallied to his aid and summarily ousted the aggressor, who, if he proved too stubborn, was likely to be roughly handled, and have set upon his back the imprint of the beech seal, the name given to the blue-beech rod wherewith such offenders were chastised. The New Hampshire grantees were as unscrupulous in their ejectment of New York claimants who had first established themselves on the New Hampshire Grants. Surveyors, acting under the authority of New York, were especially obnoxious to settlers of the other party, and rough encounters of the opposing claimants were not infrequent. Seth Beeman and his neighbors had all taken up land under a New Hampshire charter, without a thought of its validity being questioned. One bright June morning, Nathan was watching the corn that, pushing its tender blades above the black mould in a corner of the clearing, offered sweet and tempting morsels to the thieving crows. It was a lazy, sleep-enticing occupation, when all the crows but one, who sat biding his opportunity on a dry tree top, had departed, cawing encouragement to one another, in quest of a less vigilantly guarded field. There was no further need for beating with his improvised drumsticks on the hollow topmost log 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.