spitable.

He killed some chickens and a young pig, and in a very short time the
odor of cooking was very appetizing.

After supper the farmer insisted on bringing out several flagons of
good cider, strong and old, for it was the last year's make.

Song and story enlivened the evening.

Warner told of the days when he had hunted the wild bear and met with
some startling adventures.

Baker recounted many a stirring episode in the life of a hunter, and
Allen, who passed under an assumed name, kept up the interest by
narrating a story of ancient knighthood.

"Seems to me that there are as great heroes to-day as in olden times,"
the farmer remarked.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Now, in the troubles we are just encountering, there will be
opportunities for heroism."

"Yes, and many a brave boy will sleep in a nameless grave."

"That is true; but if we get rid of England's rule and that of the
tones, these same boys will rest well in their graves."

"You seem to think the patriots are right."

"I know they are, and I tell you, my masters, that as long as I have a
stalk of corn on my farm I'll divide it with any boy who fights against
the oppressor."

"Bravo! but methinks the people round about do not think as you do."

"Many are afraid to speak, because, if they did, and the English were
successful, they would be made to suffer; and if the patriots win, as I
am sure they will, then the silent man may be counted a patriot."

"Very wisely stated."

"My idea of a great man is----"

The farmer paused.

"Excuse me, I thought I heard some one at the window. No, I was wrong,
and yet I could have sworn I saw a face as I looked up."

"You were saying that your ideal of a man was----"

"Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga. I tell you, he is right all the
time. He was right about those land grants. If the land had been of
no value New Hampshire might have had all the land, but because it
proved rich, of course York coveted it."

"Have you ever seen Ethan Allen?" Warner asked.

"No. I would give half my farm to do so."

"You needn't do that. Look at him; that is the hero of Ticonderoga,
and I am Seth Warner who tells you so."

The farmer was overjoyed, and became so excited that he shouted and
danced with joy.

There was a sudden stop put to his merriment. Something fell over
outside the window.

"I could have sworn it before, but now I know some one was there. That
milk can could not fall down with