The summer brought more settlers to these inviting lands of level, fertile soil, and when the woods were again bright with autumnal hues, their broad expanse of variegated color was blotched with many a square of unsightly new clearing. Job Carpenter looked with disfavor upon such infringement of the hunter’s domain, but it was welcomed by the Beemans. Though Seth’s active out-door employment and the constant companionship of nature made him less lonely than his wife, yet he was of a social nature and glad of human companionship; while Ruth, sometimes lonely in the isolation of her new home, rejoiced in the neighborhood of other women.

Only a mile away were the Newtons, a large and friendly family, and within three miles were four more friendly households, and another at the falls of the turbid Lemon Fair. At this point a saw mill was being built and a grist mill talked of. With that convenience established so close at hand, there would be no more need of the long journey to the mill at Skeenesborough, a voyage that, in the best of weather, required two days to accomplish.

The settlers at first pounded their corn into samp, or finer meal for johnny-cake, by the slow and laborious plumping mill, a huge wooden mortar with a spring pole pestle.

“Oh, mother,” said Nathan, one summer afternoon, as for a while he stopped the regular thump, thump of the plumping mill to wipe his hot face and rest his arms that ached with the weary downpull of the great pestle, “when do you s’pose the folks to the Fair will get the gris’ mill done?”

“Afore long, I hope, for your sake, my boy,” she answered, cheerily, through the window. “Let me spell you awhile and you take a good rest.”

Laying her wool cards aside, she came out and set her strong hands to the pestle, while Nathan ran out to the new road to see what ox-teamster of unfamiliar voice was bawling his vociferous way along its root-entangled and miry course. Presently the boy came back, breathless with the haste of bearing great news.

“Oh, mother, they’re carryin’ the stones and fixin’s for the new mill, and the man says they’ll be ready for grindin’ before winter sets in. Then it’ll be good-by to you, old ’Up-an’-down,’ and good riddance to bad rubbage,” and he brought the pestle down with energy on the half-pounded grist of samp.

“Don’ revile the plumpin’ mill, Nathan. It’s been a good friend in time o’ need. Mebby you’ll miss the trips to Skeenesborough with your father. You’ve always lotted on them.”

“Yes, but I’d rather go to the Fort and play with the boys, any day, and I’ll have more time when samp poundin’ is done and ended.”

He had been with his father twice to the Fort to see its wonders, and, brief as the visits were, they sufficed to make him acquainted with the boys of the garrison, and, for the time, a partner in their games. Before the summer was out, the little Yankee became a great favorite with the few English and Irish boys whose fathers were soldiers of the little garrison. He taught them how to shoot with his hornbeam bow and spiked arrows, and many another bit of woodcraft learned of his fast friend Job, while they taught him unheard-of games, and told him tales of the marvellous world beyond the sea, a world that was as a dream to him.

His Yankee inquisitiveness made him acquainted with every nook and corner of the fortification, and he was even one day taken into the commandant’s quarters, that the beautiful wife of that fine gentleman might see from what manner of embryo grew these Yankees, who were becoming so troublesome to His Majesty, King George. She was so pleased with his frank, simple manner and shrewd answers that she dismissed him with a bright, new English shilling, the largest sum that he had yet possessed.

“Really, William,” she afterwards remarked to her husband, “if this be a specimen of your terrible Yankees, they be very like our own people, in speech and actions, only sharper witted, and they surely show close kinship with us in spite of such long separation.”

“You little know them,” said Captain Delaplace, laughing. “They are a turbulent, upstart breed. I fear only a sound drubbing, and, perhaps, the hanging of a score of their leaders, will teach them obedience to His Majesty.”

“I would be sorry to have this little man drubbed or hanged,” said she, with a sigh; “surely he is not of the stuff rebels are made of.”

“The very stuff, my dear. Bold and self-reliant, and impatient of control, as you may see. If ever there comes an outbreak of these discontented people, I warrant you’ll find this boy deserving the drubbing and getting it, too, for His Majesty’s troops would make short work of such rabble.”