as can be found in Pittsfield, an’ will take my chances on what she puts up for you, providin’ there’s enough of it.”
“Of course you are to take your musket?”
“I should be a pretty poor kind of a soldier if I didn’t, lad – the same one I used under Abercrombie,” and he pointed with his thumb toward the interior of the dwelling where, as Isaac knew, a well-worn weapon hung on hooks just over the fireplace. “It’s one of the king’s arms, an’ I reckon will do as good service against him as it did for him, which is saying considerable, lad, as Major Putnam can vouch for. Now set about making ready, for we two above all others must not be behind-hand when the column moves.”
A fine thing it was to be a soldier, so Isaac thought as he went leisurely from Corporal ’Lige’s log hut to his home; he was forced to pass through the entire length of the village, stopping here and there to acquaint a friend with what he believed to be a most important fact.
Among all the lads in Pittsfield of about his own age he was the only one who proposed to enlist, and from all he heard and saw there could be no question but that he was envied by his companions.
From the youngest boy to the oldest man, the citizens were in such a ferment of excitement as gave recruits the idea that to enlist was simply providing amusement for themselves during a certain number of days, and, with the exception of those experienced in such matters, no person believed for a moment that the brave ones who were rallying at their country’s call would suffer hardships or privations.
In fact, this going forth to capture the fort at Ticonderoga was to be a pleasure excursion rather than anything else, and Isaac Rice believed he was the most fortunate lad in the province of Massachusetts.
His outfit did not require that his mother should spend very much time upon it.
The clothes he wore comprised the only suit he owned, and when two shirts and three pairs of stockings had been made into a parcel of the smallest possible size, and he had borrowed his father’s gun, powder horn and shot pouch, the equipment was complete.
Then came the most important of the preparations, to Isaac’s mind, for he knew the corporal would criticize it closely – the store of provisions.
Had he been allowed his own bent the remainder of the Rice family might have been put on short allowance, for, with a view to pleasing the corporal, he urged that this article of food, and then that, should be put into the bag which served him as a haversack, until the larder must have been completely emptied but for his mother’s emphatic refusal to follow such suggestions.
If Mrs. Rice did not shed bitter tears over Isaac when he left her to join the recruits, it was because she shared the opinion of many others in Pittsfield, and felt positive the lad would soon return, none the worse for his short time of soldiering.
It was but natural she should take a most affectionate farewell of him, however, even though believing he would be in no especial danger, and a glimpse of the tears which his mother could not restrain caused an uncomfortable swelling in the would-be soldier’s throat.
This leaving home, even to march away by the side of Corporal ’Lige, was not as pleasant as he had supposed, and for the moment he ceased to so much as think of the provision-bag.
“Now, see here, mother,” he said, with a brave attempt at indifference. “I’m not counting on doing anything more than help take the fort, and since the corporal is to be with us, that can’t be a long task.”
“You will ever be a good boy, Isaac?”
“Of course, mother.”
“And you will write me a letter, if it so be you find the opportunity?”
This was not a pleasing prospect to the boy, for he had never found it an easy task to make a fair copy of the single line set down at the top of his writing-book; but his heart was sore for the moment, and he would have promised even more in order to check his mother’s tears.
Therefore it was he agreed to make her acquainted with all his movements, so far as should be possible, and, that done, it seemed as if the sting was taken in a great measure from the parting.
Feeling more like a man than ever before in his life, Isaac set forth from his home with a heavy musket over his shoulder, and the bag of provisions hanging at his back, glancing neither to the right nor to the left until he arrived at the corporal’s dwelling.
An exclamation of surprise and delight burst from his lips when he saw the old man, armed and equipped as he had been in ’58, wearing the uniform of a British soldier, even though by thus setting out he was proving his disloyalty to the king.
“Well you do look fine, corporal. I dare wager there are none who will set forth from this town as much a soldier as you!”
“I reckon Colonel Easton will come out great with his militia uniform; but what does it amount to except for the value of the gold lace that’s on it? All I’m wearin’ has seen service, an’ though it ain’t for me to say it, I shouldn’t be surprised if him as is inside this ’ere red coat could tell the militia colonel much regarding his duty.”
“Of course you can, corporal, every one knows that, an’ I’m expecting to see you put next in command to Colonel Allen, if it so be he goes.”
“Not quite that, lad, not quite that, for there’s jealousy in the ranks the same as outside of them, though I warrant many of ’em will be glad to ask Corporal ’Lige’s advice before this ’ere business is over. Now let’s have a look to your stores, and we’ll be off.”
The examination of the impromptu haversack appeared to be satisfactory to the old man, and without doing more in the way of securing his dwelling from intruders than shutting the outer door, he marched down the street with such a swagger as he evidently believed befitting a soldier.
Isaac followed meekly at his heels, troubling his head not one whit because he lacked a uniform, but believing he shared to a certain degree in Corporal ’Lige’s gorgeousness and martial bearing.
The two came to a halt outside the inn, standing stiffly at “attention,” and there they remained until Master Phelps was forced to go out and bid the old man enter, that the formality of signing the rolls might be gone through with, after which Isaac Rice was duly entitled to call himself a militiaman.
CHAPTER II. A SECLUDED CAMP
When these raw recruits departed from the town – Corporal ’Lige insisted that they did not march – they were followed for several miles by nearly all the men and boys in the vicinity.
The old man was greatly exercised because Colonel Easton, who now assumed command, allowed such an unsoldierly proceeding as that his troops should walk arm in arm with their friends, each in his own manner and at his own convenience.
Had the corporal been invested with the proper authority he would have had these raw recruits marshaled into ranks and forced to step in unison, carrying their muskets at the same angle, and otherwise conforming themselves to his idea of soldierly bearing – all this he would have had them do; but whether he could have brought about such a condition of affairs is extremely problematical.
“I allowed Colonel James Easton came somewhere near bein’ a soldier, even though he is only a militiaman,” the corporal said in a tone of intense dissatisfaction to Isaac as the two marched solemnly side by side in the midst of their disorderly companions, “and I did think we could set out from here and capture Ticonderoga,
