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"No; but, now you mention it, I might do so. Take me to the fellow whocommands the boys."
"Will you tell him?"
"I came to do so, only that fellow with the gun would not let me pass."
"I will take you to Lieut. Sunderland."
"Lead on; I am ready."
Eben conducted the boy to Sunderland, and to him Zeb told a mostwonderful yarn.
It was so plausible that he was complimented on his patriotism, andrewarded by the faithful lieutenant as well as his purse would permit.
Zeb trusted to the inspiration of the moment for most of his narrative.He told how his father was a loyal Vermonter, and in the fullness ofhis heart had invited Allen and Baker to a late supper, and in theirhonor had prepared boiled pig's head and cabbage, and that while theywere eating supper some soldiers burst open the door and took allprisoners. Zeb said his father was released on condition that he wouldfind ropes to bind Allen and Baker. Thinking that he could be ofservice to the colonel by remaining at liberty, he consented, and thensent Zeb to the Mountain Boys' camp.
Zeb embellished the story in many ways, but he was so good astory-teller that every word he uttered was believed.
CHAPTER XI.
THE TABLES TURNED.
Ethan Allen could see no possible chance of escape.
He was not afraid to meet the punishment, but he felt it galling to betrapped in such a way.
If he had not been a bitter opponent of New York before, that treacherywould have made him one.
For greater security the two mountaineers had been bound together, sothat they could be more easily guarded.
Nearly an hour passed before the officer determined to march.
He had sent out scouts to ascertain if the Mountain Boys were in thevicinity, and the men had returned to report all quiet.
Then the small company, with its valuable captives, set out to crossinto York at the nearest point.
For about an hour the march was continued in silence, and the men werefatigued, for they had to carry the prisoners, both Allen and Bakerrefusing to walk one step.
A halt was called, and the soldiers were told they could rest for onehour.
They were delighted at the prospect, and laid themselves down on thegrass.
So secure did they feel that they relaxed their watchfulness andallowed the prisoners to lie down by themselves a little distance away,yet not so far that they had any chance of escape.
Allen was singing a song of freedom; it was an old French ditty he hadlearned and often sung.
He sang, not because his spirits were light, but simply to prevent afeeling of melancholy overmastering him.
The singing satisfied his captors that he was resigned, and was notmeditating any plan of escape.
In the midst of his song he heard a soft, low voice say:
"Do not speak, but listen."
Baker had fallen asleep, and Allen knew that it was Eben who spoke; buthow the boy got there, or, in fact, where he was, Allen could notconjecture.
"Here is a knife," said Eben; "I am going to cut the cords which bindyour hands; you can then liberate Baker. When you are both free, keepstill until you hear the cry of the catbird, and then leap to your feetand run, taking a course direct to the left; the boys are there inambush, and you will be safe."
While Eben was speaking he succeeded in cutting the cords, and Allen'shands were free.
