After many days of fair promises tardily fulfilled, spring had come. The soft air was full of its sounds and odors, the medley of harsh and liquid notes of the myriad blackbirds that swarmed in the trees along the creek, the crackling croak of the frogs, the whimpering call of the muskrats, the booming of bitterns, the splashing and quacking of wild ducks, and the murmur of running waters. There were the spicy fragrance of pine and hemlock, and the fresh smell of warming mould and bursting buds, while the perfume of wild flowers added a moiety to the spring time odor. The shad trees shone like snowdrifts in the gray woods, and the yellow catkins were alive with humming bees.

Amid the pleasant sights of nature’s progress, Nathan and his friend sat near the door, taking off and stretching on pliant bows the skins of the last catch of muskrats.

“It’s about time to quit trappin’ for this year,” said Job, as he slipped a skin onto the bow that he held between his knees. “They’re gettin’ a leetle off prime, though better’n they be in the fall an’ no kits as there is then,” and he fastened the skin in place, with a cut near its edge, into each horn of the bow. “Good land! What’s Gabe hullabalooin’ at now, I wonder?”

Nathan peered cautiously around the corner and whispered:

“It’s neighbor Newton. I’ll go up loft.” Accordingly he climbed the ladder and crept softly to the side of the loft above the door. Through the wide cracks of the loose flooring he could see a patch of the chip strewn, sunlit earth outside, with Job’s long legs stretching across it and his hands idle a moment as he called in the hound, who presently appeared, and behind him the stout stockinged legs of neighbor Newton.

“Job, have you heard the news?” Newton asked excitedly.

“News? What news?” Job’s knife stopped half-way in the slit it was making along a muskrat’s throat.

“There’s ben a fight down in the Bay Colony ’twixt our folks and the king’s troops and our folks whipped ’em.”

“Our folks a fightin’ the king’s troops?” said Job incredulously.

The other hastily related such particulars of the momentous conflict as he had learned. Nathan, whose heart was beating fast at the stirring news, saw the muskrat drop to the ground.

“I al’ys said them reg’lars, shootin’ breast high at nothin’, couldn’t stan’ agin our bushfighters, aimin’ to kill,” Job said exultantly; “but what next, Dan’l?”

“War—it means war. The country’s all a-risin’. Every man’s got to choose the side he’ll take. Which side is yourn, Job?”

There was a silence, and the answer came with slow deliberation. “I hoped to end my days in peace. I’ve had enough o’ fightin’, the Lord knows. When I’ve fit it was for the land I was born in—if it was under the British flag—an’ I shan’t never fight for no other.”

“Every man in these clearin’s is all right, so far as we know, exceptin’ that aire sour-faced Toombs. He hain’t no good will towards our side. A Tory in Seth’s shoes, and him red-hot for liberty. He’s got a Canuck a-workin’ for him, and I’d livser trust a wolf’n one o’ them pea-soupers. I hain’t no patience wi’ Ruth for marryin’ that critter. Where do you s’pose her boy is?” There being no reply the speaker went on: “I b’lieve that devil has made way with him. He acts turrible cur’us, scared and startin’ at every sound,” and the two walked off towards the creek.

Half an hour later when Job returned, he asked Nathan: “Well, what do you think o’ the news, my boy?”

“Oh, is it true about the fight? How I wish I could go and help our folks. Father’d go quick.”

“Well, well, stay where ye be. If it goes on, it’s sure to strike the ol’ war-path,” and the old ranger swept his arm towards the lake. “There’ll be work for us here. The sign o’ that fresh water mairmaid is comin’ true agin.”

They passed a week in restless, impatient waiting, when, unheralded by the hound, Newton again entered the cabin and chanced to come face to face with the boy.

“Well, here you be,” he said, without surprise and smiling good-humoredly; “I s’pected as much t’other day when I see the extry knife an’ pile o’ mushrats. Say, Job, how is’t? Can I speak out afore him consarnin’ the business we was talkin’ on?”

“To be sure. He’s close-mouthed an’ he’s achin’ to go an’ jine our folks down in the ol’ Bay Colony.”

“Good; he’s the same stuff as his father.” He laid his friendly hand on Nathan’s shoulder and continued in a low, earnest voice: “There’s a plan all fixed to take Ti and Crown P’int. It seems a Connecticut feller named Brown started the thing a-goin’ some weeks ago. There’s nigh ontu two hunderd and fifty men in the Grants engaged to do the job. Ethan Allen commands. We muster at Beeman’s Crik, day after to-morrow night. You’ll be there?” Job stretched forth his hand to his friend, who warmly clasped it.

“Me, too; let me go, too.” Nathan’s heart swelled with pride, and he felt himself suddenly leaping to manhood and a place among men.

“He’s a stout lad an’ he handles a gun like a man. Let him come,” said Job. “But how be we goin’ to git across the lake? There hain’t boats enough hereabouts to take more’n thirty men to oncet.”

“Colonel Skeene’s is goin’ to be borrowed, an’ there’s a plan to git some more without askin’ at Crown P’int; with them an’ what we can pick up we’ll make enough. How many’ll your birch carry?”

“Six men that’s used to such craft, but not one lummax.”

“Well, bring it along. Everything of the boat kind’ll be needed. Toombs troubles me most. He’s on the fence, which means he ain’t to be trusted. He’ll see our men a musterin’ an’ s’pect what’s up, an’ let the garrison know some way. He and his Canuck has got to be watched.”

“Easy done! We can tie ’em, neck an’ heels, an’ leave ’em to take keer o’ theirselves.”

“Well, I’ll send a guard an’ see to that,” Newton said as he hurried away to warn other settlers of the projected enterprise.

Those left began to clean their weapons carefully and prepare to mould some bullets. Job rehearsed his long disused manual of arms, in which he found Nathan familiar through his close observation of the soldiers’ drill at the Fort.

“You don’t want to aim that way,” the old man said, when, at the command, Nathan held his piece ready to fire with the butt end under his elbow. “Lord, how I’ve heard Major Rogers swear to see the reg’lars wastin’ lead, shootin’ int’ the tree tops wi’ the enemy fair afore ’em! Fightin’ hain’t no foolin’. Aim to kill, jes’ as ye would at a pa’tridge. There—that’s the talk,” when Nathan, following his instructions, laid his cheek to the stock and flashed the priming at the breast of an imaginary foe.