them they had some good strong cords bound round their
limbs, and a Yorker was holding a gun at their heads."

"Prisoners?"

"It looked very like it."

"Where are they? Tell me all you know."

"Not much; the news is worth something."

"How much do you want?"

"How much what?"

"Did you not say you wanted to sell the news?"

"No; but, now you mention it, I might do so. Take me to the fellow who
commands the boys."

"Will you tell him?"

"I came to do so, only that fellow with the gun would not let me pass."

"I will take you to Lieut. Sunderland."

"Lead on; I am ready."

Eben conducted the boy to Sunderland, and to him Zeb told a most
wonderful yarn.

It was so plausible that he was complimented on his patriotism, and
rewarded by the faithful lieutenant as well as his purse would permit.

Zeb trusted to the inspiration of the moment for most of his narrative.
He told how his father was a loyal Vermonter, and in the fullness of
his heart had invited Allen and Baker to a late supper, and in their
honor had prepared boiled pig's head and cabbage, and that while they
were eating supper some soldiers burst open the door and took all
prisoners. Zeb said his father was released on condition that he would
find ropes to bind Allen and Baker. Thinking that he could be of
service to the colonel by remaining at liberty, he consented, and then
sent Zeb to the Mountain Boys' camp.

Zeb embellished the story in many ways, but he was so good a
story-teller that every word he uttered was believed.

CHAPTER XI.

THE TABLES TURNED.

Ethan Allen could see no possible chance of escape.

He was not afraid to meet the punishment, but he felt it galling to be
trapped in such a way.

If he had not been a bitter opponent of New York before, that treachery
would have made him one.

For greater security the two mountaineers had been bound together, so
that they could be more easily guarded.

Nearly an hour passed before the officer determined to march.

He had sent out scouts to ascertain if the Mountain Boys were in the
vicinity, and the men had returned to report all quiet.

Then the small company, with its valuable captives, set out to cross
into York at the nearest point.

For about an hour the march was continued in silence, and the men were
fatigued, for they had to carry the prisoners, both Allen and Baker
refusing to walk one step.

A halt was called, and the soldiers were told they could res