“You are welcome to the consolation of the hope, but it gives me no uneasiness and I run no new risks. I am Ethan Allen. You may have heard of me and have lusted for the shekels the sons of Belial offer for my head. But get on your clothes and parade your men without arms. Madam,” bowing low to the lady, “pardon the intrusion, but my business is urgent. Permit me to close the door.” So doing he awaited the reappearance of the commandant. “This is a pretty kettle of fish,” the chopfallen captain groaned. “Courage, my dear; this handsome giant has something of the manners of a gentleman, and will not let a lady be maltreated by his rebel band.” “Oh, William, the Fort surprised, and we prisoners, and not a blow struck for defense.” “There could be no defense with such numbers. Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk. Did you see that pet cub of yours with the big rebel? What did I tell you?” said the captain, putting the finishing touches to his hasty toilet. He rejoined Allen and proceeded to the parade, where, presently, he mustered his little force without arms and formally delivered them to the captors, who marched them away to their quarters under guard. Two days later, with an armed escort, they were on their way through the wilderness to Connecticut, and Nathan saw the last of the lady of the Fort. Warner and the remainder of the men arrived at Ticonderoga soon after its surrender, disappointed that they had not participated in its achievement. Still guided by the boy, the officers made a tour of investigation, which revealed a wealth of guns and ammunition—supplies greatly needed by the army of patriots then gathered at Boston. As the boy listened to the rejoicings, his heart was full of proud thankfulness that he had borne so important if humble a part in this service of his country. Warren and Sunderland and a hundred men set forth for the easy conquest of Crown Point and its insignificant garrison, while, on Lake George, another party took possession of Fort George and its garrison of a man, his wife, and a dog. Arnold hastily fitted out a schooner taken at Skeenesborough, and, with Allen in a batteaus filled with armed men, sailed down the lake to capture the British sloop at St. Johns. Job’s knowledge of the lake, gained in years of ranger service upon it, made him valuable as pilot, in which capacity he accompanied Allen; and where Job went there went Nathan. The brisk south wind swiftly wafted Arnold’s craft far in advance of her sluggish consort, whose crew saw their chances of glory lessening and fading with the white wings of the schooner.