“You have such a chance to serve your country as don’t often fall to a boy. Will you lead us into the Fort to-night? Will you do it faithfully?” Nathan looked steadily into the earnest, searching eyes fixed upon him, but did not answer. “Speak,” cried Allen, sharply. “If the commandant’s lady won’t be hurt, I will,” he said at last, his left hand thrust into his pocket, fumbling his cherished shilling piece. Allen laughed good-humoredly. “So the lady is a friend of yours. Well, never fear. We may disturb her morning nap, but she shall not be harmed. We are not waging war in the wilderness against women and children. Here, my boy, stick this twig of hemlock in your hat. Don’t you see we’ve all mounted it? There, now,” as he himself put the evergreen sprig in Nathan’s hatband, “you wear the Green Mountain Boy’s cockade. See that you never disgrace it.” The boy thrilled with pride as he walked with measured step behind the stately chieftain and his lithely built companion. Presently the sound of oars was heard and a large batteau swept into the landing, navigated by two of Newton’s sons, who gleefully related how, with a jug of rum, they had lured Skeene’s old negro with the coveted craft into their toils, as he was voyaging homeward from Crown Point. It was capable of carrying twenty-five persons and was a welcome prize. Though one by one, and in little flotillas, boats continued to arrive, still, at two o’clock in the early May morning, there were not enough to transport half the men gathered. After brief consultation, it was determined that as many as possible should at once cross to the other shore and there await the coming of the others in the returning boats. Embarkation began at once under the superintendence of Allen, Arnold, and Warner. Nathan found himself with the first two in the leading boat, Warner being left in charge of the party remaining on the eastern shore. At a low word of command, the flotilla swept out of the flickering glare of the fire into the darkness. It passed down the creek and was soon upon the lake, heading for the other shore, being guided to the chosen landing by the mountain peaks that loomed black against the western sky. The night was windless. The shrill piping of hylas, the monotonous trill of toads, and the rush of running brooks filled the air. Such sounds faded out as the middle of the lake was reached, where nothing was heard but the light plash of muffled oars, to rise again in increasing volume from the other shore. As the last boat grounded on the shelving beach, Nathan was startled by the loud, hollow hoot of an owl, uttered thrice, almost in his ear. A few moments later there came, like an echo from the distant creek, the answer to this preconcerted signal of safe arrival. The men quickly disembarked, and the boats returned to those who, under Seth Warner, were eagerly awaiting their turn.