A halt was silently signalled, and Job, the skilfullest scout of all this band of woodsmen, was sent forward to reconnoitre. Silently, as a ghost, his tall figure melted into the obscurity of dawn, and presently appeared, out of the blur of shadows, bearing whispered tidings that all was quiet within the Fort, and only one sentinel carelessly guarding the open wicket of the main entrance.

A whispered word of command drifted back along the ranks and the troops moved forward. They mounted a slight declivity and advanced to the right toward the gate. Now the sentinel could be seen pacing his beat; now the white cross-belts and the facings of his uniform made out, and still he maintained his deliberate pace, unconscious of the enemy, while, perhaps, his thoughts were far away in the green fields of merry England, where the hawthorn was blooming and the lark singing “at heaven’s gate.”

The heads of the files were close upon him when his wandering thoughts were suddenly recalled. Too much surprised to challenge or call an alarm, he levelled his fusee at Allen’s towering figure and pulled the trigger. The life of the bold chieftain hung for an instant in the trembling balance of fate, but not a spark followed the stroke of the flint. The guard turned and fled through the open wicket with Allen and Arnold, side by side, close upon his heels. After them came Nathan; and the crowding files of men swarmed through the narrow gate in an impetuous rush, and, guided by the boy, onto the parade. This was enclosed on three sides by lofty stone barracks. Here they caught a last glimpse of the flying sentry dodging into a bombproof, like a woodchuck into a hole. Another sentinel made a bayonet thrust at Nathan, when Allen’s sword fell quick as a thunderbolt upon the man’s head in a downright blow that must have cleft the skull, had it not glanced on a metal comb that held his hair in place.

The assailants quickly formed in two ranks, facing outward upon the east and west lines of barracks, and gave three cheers that made the gray walls ring with quick, rebounding echoes.

“Quick, my boy, show me the commandant’s quarters,” said Allen, and his guide led to a flight of outer stairs arising to the upper story of the south barracks. Ascending them, Allen shouted:

“Come forth, commandant, come forth.” But receiving no answer he thundered on the door with the pommel of his sword and shouted still louder:

“Come out of your hole, you damned old skunk,” and thereupon the door was drawn a little ajar. Allen flung it wide open, and disclosed the bewildered face and undignified figure of Captain Delaplace, clad only in his shirt and nightcap, with his breeches in his hand. Behind him stood his night-gowned wife, her pretty face pale with alarm. For a moment the captain gaped at his unceremonious visitor.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“I want the Fort and all it contains. Surrender, instantly.”

“Surrender? Is this a mad joke or treason?”

“Neither; but honest men claiming their own. Surrender.”

“In whose name? By whose authority?” asked Delaplace, assured of the earnestness of the summons.

“In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress.”

“I know no such authority.”

“Sir, do you deny the authority of the King of Kings? And Congress seemeth to have some power here this morning. Waste no more time. We are four to your one. Do you surrender?”

“I see no choice. But it consoles me that you rebels will hang for this.”

“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.

The voyage was a pleasant one to Nathan, for beyond the mouth of Otter Creek everything was new to him, with strange and changing shores and such an expanse of water as he had never seen. His old friend pointed out to him notable landmarks and scenes of past adventure. Here was the cleft promontory of So-baps-kwa and the opposite headland of Ko-zo-aps-kwa, there the solitary rock of Wo-ja-hose. Then they passed the isles of the Four Winds and Valcour, and Grand Isle’s low, wooded shore stretching along the eastward water line. At last, as they were nearing the northern end of the lake and saw on their right the ruin of an old French windmill, the only vestige of civilized occupation they had seen except the ruins of Fort St. Anne on Isle la Motte, they descried two sail rapidly bearing down toward them from the north before the shifted wind.

For a few moments they were in an excitement of alarm, not knowing whether these were friends or foes. Soon Allen, who had been watching through a glass, lowered it, and, waving his cocked hat above his head, shouted:

“Hurrah, boys, it’s our friends with the British sloop. Give her three cheers.”

While the last lusty cheer was scarcely uttered, an answering salute from the cannon of the sloop and schooner was thundered forth.

“Give ’em powder for powder, boys. Fire,” Allen shouted, and a rattling volley of muskets, rifles, and long smoothbores reawakened the echoes.

The crew of the batteau was then transferred to the schooner and her prize—the same armed sloop Nathan so well remembered seeing when she brought supplies to the Fort he had just borne a part in surprising. While amid loud rejoicings the story of her bloodless capture was told, they went merrily bowling homeward with the clumsy batteau surging along in tow at such speed as she had never known before.