The turmoil and horror of war seemed far removed from the serene sky, the rippled water kissing the quiet shores, and the pervading sense of the earth’s renewing life, enforced by bursting buds and opening flowers and songs of birds. Even the grim fortress seemed but a memento of conflict long since ended forever. Sweeping into the broad mouth of the creek, they joined the motley crowd already gathered there. The assemblage was composed of all who were capable of bearing arms, from gray-headed veterans of the last war, to the striplings who had not yet been mustered on a training field. Job received hearty greetings from more than one old comrade whom he had not seen since they ranged this region, then an unreclaimed wilderness, under the leadership of the brave and wary Robert Rogers, and he was soon in reminiscences of scouts and ambuscades, while Nathan watched and noted everything, a most interested spectator of what was passing so unobtrusively into history. Presently there was a stir and gathering together of the detached groups and an expectant hush. Then he saw towering among them, in cocked hat and military garb of blue and buff, the stalwart figure of Ethan Allen. “Fall in, men,” said the deep-toned voice of Allen, and the groups formed in line as best they could among the trees. As they moved forward to take their places Nathan noticed an unfamiliar form skulking among the tree trunks near him—a swarthy little man wearing a tasseled, woolen cap and gray coat unlike the Yankee garb. It flashed across his mind that this was the Canadian employed by his stepfather, and he tried to keep watch of his movements. But there was much else to engage him, and just then he felt a touch on his leg, and, turning, saw Gabriel’s sorrowful face looking wistfully up to his own. “Down, Gabe,” he said in a low tone, and the hound crouched behind. Just then Ethan Allen, having passed slowly down the line, accosting one and another, broke the silence: “Friends of the Grants, we are already enough for this business in hand, but there are more to come. There will be boats enough to cross us all in good time. Keep quiet. Cook your rations and eat your supper. To-morrow we’ll eat our breakfast in Ticonderoga, or know the reason why.” As Nathan’s entranced gaze was for a moment withdrawn from the beloved commander, he caught a glimpse of the little unknown man stealing away among the shadows. Being more accustomed to the rigid discipline of the garrison than to the free and easy customs of volunteers, he did not dare to leave the ranks till many of his comrades had straggled away. Then he sought Job and told him his suspicions. “I thought Newton was goin’ to tend to them critters. Newton,” he called to his neighbor, “didn’t you put a guard over Toombs and his man?” “Toombs is safe in care of a good man, but his Canuck couldn’t be found. I guess he’s too stupid to do any mischief, anyway.”