the countryside, and not a few of those
individuals who, at a time like this, always occupy a prominent position
"on the fence"--that is, they having not yet decided which cause to
espouse, waited to see whether the King's troops or the earnest patriots
would win.

Among these spectators was a well set up man of military bearing, indeed
garbed in a military coat, with a cockade in his hat and his hair
carefully dressed. He was quite a dandy, or a "macoroni" as the
exquisites of that day were called both in London and in the Colonies.
His dark visage and hawk-like eye commanded more than a passing glance
from all and when, just before the troops started, he was observed to
walk across the parade and calmly approach the group of officers
standing at one side, all eyes became fixed upon him.

"Who is that haughty looking man yonder?" asked one spectator of his
neighbor who happened to be better informed than his friend, "and what
does he here?"

"What he does here I know not," declared the individual thus addressed,
"but his name I can tell you, having seen him in Hartford on several
occasions. It is Benedict Arnold, a name quite well known--and not
altogether honorably--in that part of Connecticut."

CHAPTER XX

THE RIVAL COMMANDERS

At this time Benedict Arnold was thirty-five years of age, a restless,
ambitious man who had sought frequently for an opportunity to
distinguish himself in life, but who had never been willing to pay the
world's price for real success. He looked for a short-cut to power and
fortune, and because of his impatience of restraint and the small
chances of promotion, he had once deserted from the British army. When
the Revolution broke out he was living in Hartford, Connecticut, where
his business was that of druggist, and where his reputation was not of
the most savory among the more respectable merchants of the town. His
character, however, contained those elements of recklessness and
personal daring which stand for bravery with many people, and he was
something of a hero in the eyes of his thoughtless associates.

It seemed a peculiar fatality that both Arnold and Allen, coming from
the same colony, should go to Bennington and be thrown together at just
this time. It was a great moment in Ethan Allen's life; the time was
likewise pregnant with the elements which so influenced the after
existence of Benedict Arnold. Ethan Allen's mind was filled with a
desire to help the Grants, a