“Colonel Skeene’s is goin’ to be borrowed, an’ there’s a plan to git some more without askin’ at Crown P’int; with them an’ what we can pick up we’ll make enough. How many’ll your birch carry?” “Six men that’s used to such craft, but not one lummax.” “Well, bring it along. Everything of the boat kind’ll be needed. Toombs troubles me most. He’s on the fence, which means he ain’t to be trusted. He’ll see our men a musterin’ an’ s’pect what’s up, an’ let the garrison know some way. He and his Canuck has got to be watched.” “Easy done! We can tie ’em, neck an’ heels, an’ leave ’em to take keer o’ theirselves.” “Well, I’ll send a guard an’ see to that,” Newton said as he hurried away to warn other settlers of the projected enterprise. Those left began to clean their weapons carefully and prepare to mould some bullets. Job rehearsed his long disused manual of arms, in which he found Nathan familiar through his close observation of the soldiers’ drill at the Fort. “You don’t want to aim that way,” the old man said, when, at the command, Nathan held his piece ready to fire with the butt end under his elbow. “Lord, how I’ve heard Major Rogers swear to see the reg’lars wastin’ lead, shootin’ int’ the tree tops wi’ the enemy fair afore ’em! Fightin’ hain’t no foolin’. Aim to kill, jes’ as ye would at a pa’tridge. There—that’s the talk,” when Nathan, following his instructions, laid his cheek to the stock and flashed the priming at the breast of an imaginary foe. CHAPTER XIV—GABRIEL’S GOOD SERVICE On the afternoon of the 9th of May, 1775, Job and Nathan laid their guns in the canoe and stood beside her ready to set her afloat in the brown water, whose ripples softly lapped the drift of dried sedges along the shore. Job looked anxiously about, and once more, as he had several times previously done, he whistled a loud shrill note through his fingers. “Where on airth is that dog? He mistrusted somethin’ was up and run off. He’d ortu be tied up, but we can’t wait any longer, an’ he’ll hafter run loose. Wal, le’s be off.” Lifting the canoe, they set her afloat, stepped lightly on board, and, kneeling in the bottom, sent her flying down the creek. They skirted the lake almost beneath the spreading branches of the maples, now already dappled with the tender green of budding leaves. A little back from the naked, western shore, with its crumbling ruins of the old French water battery, uprose the gray battlements and barracks of Ticonderoga, and the blazoned cross of England floating lazily in the breeze. “I’ve follered it for many a day,” said Job sadly, “an’ I never thought to go agin it. But I b’lieve I’m right,” and he turned his face resolutely forward.