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A Hero of Ticonderoga by Rowland E. Robinson

And I'll bet ye there'll be a Canuck treed afore sundown


"Hisn? There couldn't be nothin' better. See here, Gabe."

The hound snuffed eagerly at the soiled footgear, slowly wagging his tail, and then looked inquiringly at his master.

"Sarch him out, boy. Sarch him out," Job encouraged him, pointing along the ground.

The hound circled about the yard a little, and then, finding the trail, followed it silently and steadily down to the creek to where the men were mustered. There, on the much trodden ground, it baffled him for a while. Resorting to his usual tactics, he made widening circles and again found the trail and went off upon it in a steady, untiring pace southward in the direction of Ticonderoga.

"I knowed it," said Job to himself, "and I'll bet ye there'll be a Canuck treed afore sundown." Guided by the deep, mellow baying of the hound, he set off, with his gun at atrail, in rapid pursuit.

The agile little Canadian had at least an hour's start, and made such brisk use of it that he was on the shore opposite the Fort when he was overtaken by the hound, who at once set furiously upon him. Being unarmed, he was forced to scramble up a tree, from which, when he had recovered his breath, he began lustily to hail the Fort, and at intervals to curse the hound. His shouts, and Gabriel's insistent deep-mouthed bayings, could scarcely fail to attract the attention of the garrison, and Job, pushing forward at his best pace, presently appeared upon the scene.

"Hello de Forrt," the Canuck was shouting. "Hey! Hello de Forrt! Sacre chien! Go home, Ah tol' you! Hello, Carillon. Tac-con-derrrque! All de Bastonais was comin' for took you, Ah tol' you! Sacre chien! Stop off you nowse so Ah can heard me spik."

"Shut yer head an' come down out o' that mighty quick," Job commanded in a low voice.

"Me no onstan' Angleesh," and again the voice rang out over across the water: "Hello de Forrt!"

Peering through the overhanging branches, Job saw a group of red-coated soldiers gathered on the other shore, and presently saw a boat putting out from it.

"Looka here," said he sternly, as he cocked his piece and aimed upward; "I don't want tu be obleeged tu hurt you, but stop yer hollerin' an' come right down."

"Me no onstan', Ah tol' you! Hello--." The lusty hail was cut short by the report of the long smooth-bore. The Canadian's cap went spinning from his head, and he came scrambling down in a haste that threatened to leave half his clothes behind.

"Ah comin'! Ah comin'! Don't shot some more!" he cried in a voice trembling with fright.

Job arrested his descent till his gun was reloaded; then, when his captive slid to the ground, he quickly tied his hands behind with a fathom of cord, one end of which he held. Then he removed the woolen sash from the Canadian's waist and bound it about his mouth.

A glance upon the lake showed the boat half-way across, and approaching as fast as two pairs of oars could impel it. Job hurried his man into an evergreen thicket some twenty yards away, and, leaving him tied to a tree in charge of the hound, he stealthily returned to ascertain if possible whether the nature of the alarm had been comprehended by the soldiers. The boat drew rapidly toward the place where he lay concealed, and, at a little distance, the occupants lay upon their oars while they held consultation, so near that he could hear every word of it.


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