Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Web Archive
https://archive.org/details/ticonderogastory00jameuoft
(University of Toronto)
A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley
By G. P. R. JAMES
Author of "Darnley, A Romance of the times
of Henry VIII."; "Richelieu, A Tale of
France in the Reign of King Louis XIII."
A. L. BURT COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
TICONDEROGA
CHAPTER I
The house was a neat, though a lowly one. It bore traces of newness,for the bark on the trunks which supported the little veranda had notyet mouldered away. Nevertheless, it was not built by the owner's ownhands; for when he came there he had much to learn in the rougher artsof life; but with a carpenter from a village some nine miles off, hehad aided to raise the building and directed the construction by hisown taste. The result was satisfactory to him; and, what was more, inhis eyes, was satisfactory to the two whom he loved best--at least, itseemed satisfactory to them, although those who knew them, even not sowell as he did, might have doubted, and yet loved them all the better.
The door of the house was open, and custom admitted every visitorfreely, whatever was his errand. It was a strange state of societythat, in which men, though taught by daily experience that precautionwas necessary, took none. They held themselves occasionally ready torepel open assault, which was rare, and neglected every safeguardagainst insidious attack, which was much more common.
It was the custom of the few who visited that secluded spot to enterwithout ceremony, and to search in any or every room in the house forsome one of the inhabitants. But on this occasion the horse that cameup the road stopped at the gate of the little fence, and the traveler,whoever he was, when he reached the door after dismounting, knockedwith his whip before he entered.
The master of the house rose and went to the door. He was somewhatimpatient of ceremony, but the aspect and demeanor of his visitor werenot of a kind to nourish any angry feeling. He was a young and veryhandsome man, probably not more than thirty years of age, sinewy andwell formed in person, with a noble and commanding countenance, abroad, high brow, and a keen but tranquil eye. His manner wascourteous, but grave, and he said, without waiting to have his errandasked: "I know not, sir, whether I shall intrude upon you too far inasking hospitality for the night, but the sun is going down, and I wastold by a lad whom I met in the woods just now that there is no otherhouse for ten miles farther; and, to say the truth, I am very ignorantof the way."
"Come in," said the master of the cottage. "We never refuse to receivea visitor here, and, indeed, have sometimes to accommodate more thanthe house will well hold. We are alone, however, now, and you will nothave to put up with the inconveniences which our guests are sometimes