After his return from this hunting trip, Enoch Harding was forced to neglect the training days on several occasions because of the increased work at home. The harvest was soon upon them and nobly had the fields of the ox-bow farm borne for the widow and her children. While they were hard at work getting under cover, or in stack, the last of their crops, the Manchester Convention was held, from which James Breckenridge and Captain Jehiel Hawley were sent to London to represent the struggling settlers, their former minister to the king, Samuel Robinson, having died before accomplishing the work which he had so well begun.

With the discovery that Governor Tryon’s declaration of an armistice had been an act of treachery, and that the Yorkers were likely to continue their raids and seize the honestly purchased lands of the New Hampshire settlers, as Colonel Reid had at Vergennes, the Hardings began to fear the return of Simon Halpen again. But the summer and fall passed without the little family being alarmed. With the snow came hog-killing, and among pioneer people this season was usually one of rejoicing. In the old times it had been a sort of festival, for with the first fall of snow all danger from marauding bands of red men ceased. The Indians would not send out war parties when every footstep would be plainly visible to the white settlers. The pioneers longed for the snow as soon as their scanty crops were out of the field, for they were safe then until the spring. So instead of celebrating “harvest home” they rejoiced at “hog killing time.”

The Hardings had quite a drove of hogs which ran wild in the forest during the summer and fed on the mast in the fall. But every few days the widow fed them near the hovel, so as to keep them in the habit of coming home, and particularly to teach the youngsters where to come if the old swine should be killed by bears or wild-cats. Now the whole drove was brought up and “folded” and for two weeks every member of the family was busy. During that time the bulk of their winter’s meat was salted down, the toothsome sausage made, and all the other delicacies which old-fashioned folks knew so well how to prepare from the pig. Somebody has said that at our present day abatoirs they can put to some use every part of the animal but the pig’s squeal; pioneer housewives were almost as economical.

When the hard work was over Mistress Harding allowed the children to invite some of the neighborhood youngsters for an evening frolic and such a gathering had not been enjoyed since the famous stump burning. Enoch was nearly sixteen now and although Bryce was almost as tall as his elder brother, the first named was broadening out wonderfully. Few young men of Bennington under nineteen could have thrown Enoch in a match of strength, and he had really become the head of the household. But he was still enough of a boy to enjoy the party to the full.

There was an old hovel near the house, but nearer the river bank, which their father had first erected–even before building the house itself–when he came to the ox-bow, and for years this hovel had sheltered the cattle. But the fall before he died the pioneer had erected a new and better stable and shed, quite handy to the house. The children, therefore, had long considered this hovel their own especial playhouse. At spare moments Enoch and Bryce built a stone and clay chimney and laid a good hearth in the old structure, and now they planned to have the party here, where they could do quite as they pleased.

The girls had scoured the woods for beech, hazel, and hickory nuts, and Robbie Baker came over on his horse with nigh a bushel of peeled chestnuts which his father brought him from Manchester way after the first frost. Then, there were potatoes to roast and a wild turkey which Nuck had shot two days before and hung in the smoke-house. The bird was not plucked, but after being entrailed was stuffed with chestnuts to give it a flavor and then rolled in the tub of sticky clay brought up from the creek bottom. This great ball was put in the fire early so that by supper-time it would be done to a turn. The pigs’ tails had all been saved and cleaned, too, and being likewise rolled in clay were baked in the ashes.

The girls had brought flour bread and made Johnny-cake, and although there was no tablecloth, the long board table was roomy and fairly groaned under the good things heaped upon it. The ball of mud, all hard and red now and cracked like a badly burned brick, was rolled out upon the hearth and Enoch broke it with one blow of the axe. The hard shell fell apart and to the burned clay adhered every feather and pin-quill of the great gobbler which would not have weighed an ounce less than twenty-five pounds. And the flesh was done to a turn.

In the midst of the good time, while the fun waxed furious, the door of the hovel opened and there stood in the opening the tall, slim figure of Crow Wing. As he had come unbidden to the stump burning, so he came now unexpectedly to this frolic. The white children welcomed him boisterously, for his people had moved away from the Walloomscoik and for months he had not been seen near Bennington. But Crow Wing had evidently not come to join in the merrymaking. His face was impassive and much older in expression than it had been the year before. And in his hair was a bunch of eagle feathers which showed that, to his own people even, he was now a brave and no longer a boy.

“Umph!” he grunted, drawing the blanket draped from his shoulders more closely around him. “Harding–me talk to you!” He looked boldly at Enoch, and the latter waving the others back, followed the Indian out of the hovel. Without speaking or looking behind him Crow Wing led the white boy to the riverside, and some distance from the hovel. There he halted and pointed suddenly across the stream in the direction of that place in the forest where Enoch had once seen the mysterious white man sitting beside the campfire.

“’Member?” asked Crow Wing, flashing a keen glance at the white boy.

“The man in the woods!” exclaimed Enoch. “You wish to tell me something about him?”

“Umph! He come again. Look out. Crow Wing tell you, because white boy strong–know how to fight. Watch ’em sharp!” and with this brief declaration the Indian youth strode away and the astonished Enoch watched him disappear in the tall brush along the creek bank. He went back to the merry party at the hovel with a heavy heart and not until after the last of the visitors had gone home–the boys swinging pine torches and giving the warwhoop to scare off any lurking wolves or catamounts–did Enoch find opportunity to tell his mother of Crow Wing’s warning.

“Simon Halpen is surely coming to evict us,” he declared. “I am sure it was he I saw in the forest last year. And now, taking advantage of our being lulled by hopes of peace, he will try to strike an unexpected blow as Colonel Reid did.”

“The neighbors will help us,” the widow said.

“But suppose he comes with a big force? And we cannot expect the neighbors to neglect their own homes,” said Enoch. “I will try and see Captain Baker, if you think it best, mother.”

“Captain Baker will help us. He knows how hard it would be if the Yorkers stripped us of our all. He is a kind-hearted man, though often rude and fretful.”

“Well, marm, he has cause to be fretful,” said Enoch. “Perhaps we can get a few of the boys to stay with us nights for awhile.”

And this they did, for Captain Baker sent three or four sturdy Green Mountain Boys around to the widow’s farm every night for a week. But the Yorker and his crew did not appear. At this time, when he might have been of such assistance to them, ’Siah Bolderwood was away. He had recently bought a track of land on the lake shore not far from Old Ti and had gone to look it over and build some sort of a camp there, thus utilizing his time to good advantage before the trapping season began.

Even after their fears were lulled, either Enoch or Bryce remained always in sight of the house. But about a fortnight after the hog-killing frolic an incident occurred which served to take both Bryce and Enoch away from the cabin. There had been a second fall of snow and the nights were becoming very cold. But all the wild animals had not yet sought their winter sleeping quarters, for there descended upon the Hardings’ hog-pen an old bear who evidently desired one more meal of succulent pork before retiring to his burrow. The remaining swine were shut up now in a close yard of logs; but the bear got over that fence with ease.

The trouble occurred in the early morning and aroused by the clamor Enoch, despite the inch or two of snow on the ground, grabbed the rifle and ran out just as he got out of bed and without shoes or stockings. But when he saw the huge bear seeking to climb out of the enclosure, hugging a lively shote to his furry breast, the boy was not likely to notice the cold and snow. He climbed the end logs of the hog-pen himself so as to get a shot at the marauder, and rested the rifle on the top rail; but the logs were slippery and just as he pulled the trigger he went down himself and the charge flew high over the bear’s head, while Enoch sprawled most ungracefully on the ground.

The old bear uttered a wild “oof-oof!” and without trying to climb the barrier again, flung his huge body against it and a length of the fence went down with a crash. By this time Bryce, who had kept the old musket by his side since Crow Wing’s warning, and slept in the loft, was aroused by the disturbance, and he pushed up the corner of the bark roof and blazed away at the beast just as it scrambled through the wreck of the hog fence. The bear had continued to cling to the squealing and kicking shote, for bruin is a strangely perverse and obstinate creature, unwilling to give up what he has once set his mind upon. There was a wild shriek of agony from the poor pig and when the bear moved clumsily away still clinging to the porker there was a broad trail of blood on the snow.

“I shot him! I shot him!” yelled Bryce, dodging down into the loft and beginning to hastily pull on his breeches. But when he came down-stairs Enoch had returned to the house and was calmly dressing. “Why didn’t ye foller him?” demanded the younger boy. “He’s bad wounded. He’d dropped that shote in a minute.”

“You killed the shote all right,” said Enoch in disgust. “Neither of the shots touched the bear at all. There’s no use chasing after the critter now. We’ll wait till after breakfast. He won’t go far, lugging that shote.”

The bear was fat and in the best possible condition for salting down for winter use. So even Mrs. Harding had no objection to make when the boys started after breakfast to follow the trail. She herself, with the help of the younger children, collected the hogs in the pen again and put up the log fence. Meanwhile Nuck and Bryce found that the bear had made for a piece of swamp about two miles away. The swamp was close grown with saplings and brush, while here and there a monster tree shot skyward. Some of these big trees were so old that they had become hollow and without doubt there was more than one lair of wild creatures in the swamp.

But it was easy enough to follow the early morning visitor to the cabin. After carrying the shote into the edge of the swamp, bruin had stopped and made a hasty meal upon the porker. Indeed the boys, who started on his trail scarcely two hours after the raid had been committed, undoubtedly disturbed him at his repast. The shote was not completely eaten when they found the bear’s breakfast-table. “It is a mighty big bear anyway,” Bryce declared, looking at the marks of the marauder’s feet. “He couldn’t have brought that pig so far if he hadn’t been.”

“He warn’t big enough for you to hit,” said Nuck, slyly.

“Huh! guess you can’t crow any,” responded the younger boy. “You missed him good and wide, too.”

They hurried on then, easily tracking the big, human-like spoor of the bear in the soil which here was not frozen. Indeed, in some places they “slumped in” rather deeply. The bear seemed to have picked out his path by instinct. But he could not hide his trail and before long the hunters came to a huge tree standing amid a clump of brush on the top of a hillock. The high ground was surrounded by water and rather hard to come at; but the boys were determined to get the bear after chasing it so far. They approached with caution, however, Enoch making Bryce remain in the rear.

“If I fire and don’t kill him you must be in reserve with your gun,” he whispered cautiously. “He’d be an ugly customer if he turned on us. He’s as big as a steer.”

“Huh! who’s afraid?” demanded Bryce.

“Jest you remember how father was killed,” Enoch said, gravely. “Who’d ha’ believed a bull-deer could kill an old hunter like him? You do as I say!”

So Bryce dropped behind and watched his brother crawl up the side of the hummock with infinite caution, parting the brush with the barrel of his rifle, which he held in readiness to use at any instant. Suddenly, from the heart of the brush clump, there sounded an angry growl. The bear was not to be taken unawares. And when a big bear growls in anger the sound is hair-raising to the uninitiated. Bryce felt a chill in the region of his spine and if his old cap did not actually rise off his head, it certainly felt as though it would. He was to one side of Nuck’s position so as not to get his brother between him and the bear should the creature come forth, and suddenly he saw the shaggy head and shoulders of the beast rise up over the brush. It looked enormous and when the bear opened its jaws, and displayed its great teeth and blood-red gums, it was indeed a fearsome spectacle.

“Shoot him! shoot him!” exclaimed Bryce, excitedly. But Nuck remained comparatively cool–at least, to all appearance. He stood up, too, with the rifle at his shoulder. The bear stretched wide his great fore-paws and plunged forward to seize the boy; but the rifle spoke and the smoke of the piece hid the creature for a moment.

When the cloud passed there was a great commotion in the brush, and Bryce saw that Nuck had darted back several paces and was rapidly loading his gun again. The younger boy could not see the bear; but it was badly wounded without doubt. The thrashing in the brush told that. Recovering his courage he pushed forward and finally saw the huge brown body on the ground, writhing in the muscular activity which follows death. The charge of Nuck’s rifle had reached a vital spot.

But something more Bryce saw. A second bear had followed the dead one from the hollow tree, and the boy observed this one whisk back into the dark opening between two roots. The tree was all of a dozen feet in circumference and there was doubtless a good-sized cavity in the tall trunk. “Come on! come on!” cried Bryce, excitedly. “Here’s another, Nuck.”

“Have a care, boy!” responded the older lad. “Don’t go too near. It may turn on us.” He hastily finished the loading of his rifle and came up the hill again. They could see the entrance to the lair plainly; but no sight could they get of the second bear. Bryce brought a handful of clods and flung one after another into the hole in the tree. The bear did not even growl, so they were pretty sure that the missiles had not reached it. “He’s climbed up inside,” declared Nuck. “I warrant that tree’s holler up to the first crotch.”

“What’ll we do?” demanded Bryce. “You shot that one, Nuck. Now I wanter git the other, before we go home.”

“We’ll smoke him out,” declared the elder brother. “You stay right here and watch, and I’ll get some wood.” Nuck had brought a tomahawk which, with his skinning knife, was thrust into his belt. With the hatchet he obtained dry branches from the lower limbs of some spruce-trees which grew near, and packed a big fagot through the mire to the hillock where Bryce stood guard. This wood he flung into the mouth of the lair, started the fire with his flint and steel, and when the flames began to wreathe the branches hungrily, he flung on leaves and grass to make a “smudge.” His suspicions regarding the hollowness of the tree proved true, for the draft through the hollow hole acted like a chimney and sucked the smoke upward. It began to wreathe out between the first limbs, some thirty feet or more from the ground.

Suddenly there was a great clatter and scraping of claws inside the tree and then there popped out between the branches the head and shoulders of a smaller bear than the one which now lay still in the bushes. “Wait till he gits out!” shouted Nuck, as the excited Bryce raised his musket. “If you shoot him there he’ll tumble back into the hole.”

Bryce was cool enough to see the wisdom of this advice and stay his hand. But in a moment the bear was completely out and then he fired. The bullet struck home and the bear lost its hold upon the limbs and dropped to the ground, landing with fearful force at the roots of the tree. But it was not dead and after a moment’s struggle, got upon its feet again. But the shock had dazed it and for a little it could neither see its assailants nor find any means of escape. Nuck ran in, placed the muzzle of his rifle within a foot of the creature, and finished it off with despatch.

Bryce was dancing about and yelling like a wild Indian; but it was not for joy over the death of this second bear. He was pointing on high and Nuck looked upward to see a third bear in the tree-top. This one had followed the second out of the hollow trunk and was mounting among the branches with great agility. The smoke pouring up through the hollow had driven the whole family into the open air. The Hardings reloaded their guns with despatch and then, on either side of the tree, fired at the remaining bear. Both bullets went true, but in falling the bear became wedged in the crotch of a big limb and Nuck, throwing aside his shoes and stockings, essayed to climb the trunk to push the dead beast off to the ground.

This was no simple matter, for all he had to cling to were the knots and “warts” on the side of the trunk. It was almost like climbing up the wall of a house. But he reached the first crotch finally and after resting a spell, found the remainder of the climb easy enough. Before he pushed the carcass of the bear out of its resting-place he took an observation of the forest, for he was high above the swamp here and could see beyond the creek. In some way they would have to get the carcasses to the creek bank and transport them to the cabin by canoe. It would be no easy task.

And as he scanned the stretch of river which he could see from his high perch he suddenly observed something which almost caused him to lose his hold upon the tree and fall, like the bear, to the ground. Coming up the stream were two canoes, each paddled by a couple of Indians, and with three white men in each craft. Even at that distance Enoch knew them to be strangers, and they were not a hunting party. Naturally his mind reverted to the warning Crow Wing had brought him a fortnight before, and without stopping to dislodge the dead bear, he descended the tree in utmost haste.

“Why don’t you push the bear off?” shouted Bryce from below.

Nuck leaned over and placed his finger on his lips, shaking his head warningly. Then he slid down the remainder of the way, falling in a heap on the carcass of the second bear. “Quick!” he gasped, seizing his shoes and stockings. “They’re coming.”

“What’s coming?”

“The Yorkers. I seen ’em on the river. Two canoes full.”

“Simon Halpen!” exclaimed the younger boy, his face blanching.

“I don’t know. Couldn’t tell any of ’em so far away. But they be’n’t Bennington men, that’s sure.” Nuck was hastily pulling on his stockings. “You run back and tell mother. I’ll watch ’em till they land and see what they intend to do.”

“But the bears—” began Bryce.

“We’ll have to leave ’em. That one in the tree will be all right for a while for sure. Now hurry.”

Bryce obeyed at once and a moment later the elder boy started off in the other direction for the bank of the creek. He ran carefully, however, so as not to make any noise and thus warn the canoe party of his presence. In half an hour he was abreast of the boats, for they progressed but slowly up the stream. Here he had a good view of the men. In the first canoe he saw Crow Wing and another young Indian of his tribe, while the paddlers in the second were likewise Iroquois. The white men were Yorkers he was sure, and all were heavily armed.

As he scrutinized the whites his eyes rested finally on one man in the leading canoe whom he was sure he had seen before. He could not mistake that lean, dark face and hooked nose. Whether or not it was the person he had seen in the wood the day of Sheriff Ten Eyck’s fiasco at the Breckenridge farm, he was certain of the man’s identity. It was Simon Halpen who, under a New York patent, claimed territory on the Walloomscoik, a part of which the Harding farm was.

Dodging from tree to tree, the boy followed the canoes and finally, before they came in sight of the Harding house, saw the party land. The Indians remained with the canoes; but the white men disembarked with considerable baggage. One of the men carried a surveyor’s instrument, while a second bore a chain. Halpen led them and when he had seen the party strike into the forest in the direction of the house, Enoch sped away on a parallel trail and headed them off, arriving first at the destination.

He found that his mother and the children had already put up the shutters and made ready to receive the Yorkers. The cattle were shut in the yard surrounding the barn and the smaller children were put in their mother’s bed to be out of the way. Bryce went into the loft where he could watch for the appearance of the enemy; but Enoch remained outside the door, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, ready to parley with the Yorkers who soon were reported by Bryce as coming through the lower fields.