Not often did the Harding children enjoy such a day as that of the stump-burning. Life was very real indeed to pioneer folks, although the fact that every family in the community had to work hard left no loophole for complaint on any side. There were no very poor people then, and there were no immensely rich. It is only by comparison that human beings become discontented with their lot.

The widow’s children had to work little harder than their neighbors. Their mother labored with them in the fields, as well as paying full attention to her household duties. She could swing an axe with most men in the township, and was no mean shot with the rifle. She led the corn hoeing and taught the older boys to do those things which were needful about the farm. The crops during this summer prospered well, and after clearing up and barreling the ashes made during the stump-burning, Enoch and Bryce ploughed and harrowed the new piece along the creek’s edge. They sowed it to winter grain and hung “scare-crows” all about the field to keep the wild birds from pulling up the tender shoots when they appeared above the mold.

Besides leading her children in the work of the farm, Mistress Harding paid more attention to their education than most parents of the settlement could. There was a school in Bennington during the winter months; but it was too far away for any of the Hardings to attend. But the widow had been a school-teacher before her marriage and she had brought some books with her from her old home. So part of almost every day she taught her children. The girls and little Harry, who was just learning his letters and “a-b, abs,” studied during the daytime; but the older boys did their lessons by the light of the candle dips, or lying on the hearth before the dancing fire. Both summer and winter these studies were kept up and therefore Enoch and his brothers and sisters were rather farther advanced in learning than the other children of the scattered community.

To this study Enoch took rather kindly; but to Bryce, who possessed more of his father’s roving disposition, the school hour was distasteful. Bryce, too, complained more than a little because he was not allowed to go to Bennington on training days. He was growing rapidly and was well nigh as big as his brother, and he felt that he should be counted a member of the military company.

This drilling in the manual of arms had become a very serious matter to the Grants people. The Green Mountain Boys, which nickname had before the end of the summer become fixed upon the bands, were divided into four companies of which Seth Warner, ’Member Baker, Robert Cochran and Gideon Warner were the captains. Ethan Allen was elected colonel commanding by acclamation and plans were made to watch over many of the outlying districts liable to be troubled most frequently by the Yorkers. With all his impulsiveness, Allen was long-headed and something of a strategist; yet he leaned to some extent upon Captain Warner’s good sense. Warner was a man of much finer mould than the chief of the Green Mountain Boys, was well educated and had a personal following of his own in the Grants, second only to Allen’s. But there was never any jealousy between them. Allen’s was a nature too frank and generous to harbor such a despicable feeling, while Warner was too deeply interested in the cause to do so.

Nuck Harding was a proud boy indeed, for he was nigh the youngest among those who drilled. Such raiding as was done by the Green Mountain Boys that year was the work of small parties under Allen, Warner, or Cochran, and no general engagement occurred between the Grants settlers and the New York authorities, so Nuck saw no real service. At home, however, he and Bryce frequently talked over what they would do if Simon Halpen should visit them. That he had been scouting about the farm on the day of Sheriff Ten Eyck’s fiasco at James Breckenridge’s place, the older boy was sure. He was certain that the man he had seen beside the campfire in the wood, and whom Crow Wing seemed to befriend, was the Yorker who, twice before, had tried to drive the Hardings from their home. But neither the man nor the Indian youth appeared in the neighborhood as the summer waned and the autumn harvests approached.

Nevertheless, after harvest, when the farm work was well cleared up, the boys put into practice a plan which, after much thought they had evolved. Many a frontier home of that, and an earlier day, had connected with it an underground passage, or room which, although usually devoted to the simple storage of potatoes and roots, could in time of need be used as a refuge for the family. Of an Indian attack there was little danger; but they did not know to what length the Yorkers might go when once they did appear. Nuck believed Simon Halpen to be a man without compassion or mercy, and that the house might be attacked and burned over their heads.

So, while still the frost held off, they constructed beneath the fireplace a deep stonewalled apartment nearly eight feet square–large enough to hold the entire family if need should come. When finished the entrance was gained by raising a large flat stone which was a part of the hearth. But the winter came without any alarm to the Hardings, and drew its slow length across the green hills and valleys like some albino monster of prehistoric times. The firs were snow-crowned and the white mantle lay deep in the hollows. Bryce and Enoch added generously to the family larder by the fruit of their hunting-trips, for there was plenty of time for such sport now. They had learned to weave snow-shoes in Indian fashion, too, and Bolderwood taught Enoch to tan and “work” the deer hides so well that their mother was able to use the pliable leather for moccasins for the family. “Boughten” shoes they had; but they were kept for best, for the money to purchase them with came hard indeed to the widow.

Not until the sap began to flow from the maples was winter counted broken. Robbie Baker rode over about the middle of March and begged so hard that Mrs. Harding allowed Enoch to return with him to help at the Baker’s “sugaring.” There were plenty of fine maples near the Baker house and Nuck was promised a share of the refined sugar. There was no need of a hut at the sugar orchard, for they slept at Baker’s house, and only a shelter was built over the great kettle in which the sap was boiled. Captain Baker made the incisions in the generous trees, and fitted the troughs; but Robbie and Nuck collected the sap and brought it, bucket by bucket, to the fire which Mrs. Baker tended. It was hard work but there was some fun connected with it, too, and Nuck enjoyed his week’s visit–or would have done so had it not been for the incident with which the outing closed.

Through the winter the people of the Grants had lived almost entirely at peace with their troublesome neighbors over the border. But there were certain active spirits among the Yorkers who were waiting only for the coming of spring to continue their persecutions. Because of the raids by the leaders of the Green Mountain Boys, there were warrants out for several, and Captain Baker was one of these who was wanted by the Albany authorities. The infamous John Munro who had accepted the office of Justice of the Peace from the New York party, gathered ten or twelve choice spirits on the night of March 22d, and feeling the security of numbers approached the home of the Grants’ remarkable marksman, his mind fixed firmly upon the reward that had been offered for the apprehension of “the outlaw, Baker.”

The Green Mountain Boy was not a man to be attacked without due consideration, and the Yorkers came to the house in the dead of night, breaking in without warning, and capturing Captain Baker in his bed. Even thus handicapped Baker fought with desperation and, overpowered by numbers and cruelly wounded, only gave over the struggle when he saw that the Yorkers were beating his wife and son as well.

“I surrender to ye, ye dogs!” he cried. “But let the woman and child alone,” and at that they ceased to belabor Mrs. Baker and Robbie and set about removing the captive as expeditiously as possible. Robbie had been asleep in the loft with his guest when the attack was made and had run down the ladder to get at the guns; but this last was impossible. Enoch’s rifle was likewise down-stairs and he was unable to help his friends; but instead of showing himself to the enemy he lifted a corner of the bark roof and crept outside. It was dark, and although there was a watch kept without the house, he was not observed and managed to reach the ground by climbing down the corner logs.

By this time Captain Baker was a prisoner. They allowed him to partly dress and then securing him with thongs, brought him forth and threw him into a sledge which was in waiting. Their haste was obvious. Even in the night, and at this distance from any succor, the cowardly justice and his friends feared that members of the Green Mountain company would be aroused, and they had no wish to face Baker’s comrades. Their idea was to get him across the Hudson and to Albany as swiftly as possible.

But Enoch, though unable to render his friends any assistance in the fight, had not been idle. Keeping the house between him and the Yorkers at the door, he reached the stable. Mrs. Baker’s voice rose above the general din, begging the Yorkers to spare her husband–to at least allow her to bind up the wound in his head before they took him away. But they merely laughed at her request. It made Enoch grit his teeth in rage, and pulling open the door of the stable he quickly entered and flung the captain’s saddle upon the horse. Buckling the girth tightly he backed the steed out of the hovel and was astride it before the enemy observed him.

With a smart slap on the creature’s flank Nuck sent the horse tearing down the road to Bennington and was almost out of rifle shot before the Yorkers realized his escape and the meaning of it. Several shots followed him, so reckless were the justice’s companions, but there was no pursuit. Instead, the villains tumbled into the sledge and upon the backs of their own steeds, and amid the cries of the woman and Robbie, took the way to the Twenty-Mile Line and Albany. The prisoner’s wife and son scarcely realized what Nuck’s escape meant; it looked as though the guest had fled when peril threatened the helpless family. But Nuck very well knew what he was about.

It was still several hours before dawn, but the moon brilliantly illumined the forest road and as the way was fairly well beaten, Nuck set the horse at his fastest pace. He knew that he could find men at Bennington–particularly at the Green Mountain Inn–who would consider no hardship too great to assist the captured settler. Many of Remember Baker’s own company of Green Mountain Boys would be in town and Stephen Fay, the host, would be able to tell him where to find these men quickly. It was a long ride to the Hudson and the hope of overtaking the Yorkers and their prisoner spurred the boy on.

On and on flew the horse and rider until at last the scattered houses of the hamlet came into view. The settlement lay lifeless under the cold winter sky; not a spiral of smoke rose from the broad-topped chimneys, for the fires in every house were banked during the night, and it was too early for the spryest kitchen-maid to be astir. The horse thundered up to the door of the Catamount Inn and Nuck’s wild halloa brought a night-capped head to the window instantly–that of the innkeeper.

“What might be the news, neighbor?” he demanded.

“Captain Baker has been carried off by the Yorkers!” shouted Nuck, and his words were heard by other night-capped heads at other windows about the inn. “’Squire Munro and some others came and got him out of bed. They’ve driven off toward the Line.”

“’Member Baker’s captured!” The word was taken up by a dozen voices and the settlers dressed hurriedly and ran forth from their houses. Meanwhile Master Fay had aroused certain men who happened to be in his hostelry, as well as the stablemen in the yard. There was a great bustle about the inn. “Boy!” cried the innkeeper to Nuck, who still bestrode Captain Baker’s horse, “do you go and call Isaac Clark and Joe Safford. They’ll have their horses handy–and good horses, too, I’ll be bound. Tell them to come here with saddle and rifle.”

These two men lived at the other end of the village. Nuck routed them out and in fifteen minutes was back with them at the inn. By that time quite a crowd had collected and ten men beside Nuck were found to be mounted and ready to set forth after the Yorkers. Each was a tried Green Mountain Boy and eager to take satisfaction for the attack upon their leader. Ten men were considered ample to attack the Yorkers, and with a promise to the bystanders to recapture ’Member Baker, even though they followed him to Albany, the cavalcade galloped away from the Green Mountain Inn, Enoch riding in their train.