r's house, there to leave the
canoe and make his way overland to Bennington, and the next day they
separated. The hunters did not start until afternoon on their northern
journey, however, and Enoch left at the same time. Not far up the creek
was a settlement of Hampshire farmers who on one occasion had been
driven out by Yorkers in the employ of a Scotchman named Reid. But the
Yorkers who had taken these farms stayed but a short time and the real
owners of the property had come back the year before. Here Enoch
expected to remain the first night of his lonely journey.

He did not arrive until late, however, and the houses were in
darkness--indeed they seemed deserted. The mill (built by Colonel Reid's
followers) stood silent, the stones having been broken by the Green
Mountain Boys on the occasion of the driving out of the New York
settlers. Enoch, having heard such good accounts of this settlement, was
astonished by the appearance of inactivity.

Nevertheless he landed and soon found a stockade surrounding a
blockhouse, which was evidently occupied. The people seemed to live
under this single roof as though they were in fear of an Indian raid,
and the boy approached the place cautiously. He was not molested,
however, for no watch was being kept; but when he rapped smartly on the
door he knew by the sudden hush of voices within that the occupants of
the dwelling were startled. There was the clatter of arms and a sudden
command. Fearing that he might be treated as an enemy, Enoch knocked
again and was about to raise his voice in the "view halloa" of the
settlers, when the door was snapped open for an instant and the sharp
blade of a sword thrust out of the darkness, the light of the candles
having been quenched at his first summons.

The boy sprang back with an exclamation of fear, and only his agility
saved him from serious injury, for the point of the sword cut a slit in
his hunting coat. And the attack, so utterly unexpected, quite deprived
him of speech or further motion as the heavy door slammed in his face.
Such a welcome was, to say the least, disconcerting.

CHAPTER IX

THE OTTER CREEK RAID

The late visitor at the Otter Creek settlement shrank away from the door
and, dumbfounded by the sword-thrust which was evidently meant for his
heart instead of his coat, waited to see what the next move of those in
the blockhouse would be. He heard low voices and words which sounded
like military commands. Supp