reckenridge, quietly. "As for
blood being upon my head for this day's work, you can see that I am
unarmed," and he spread his hands widely. "Besides, I have nothing to do
with this grant at the present time. The township of Bennington has
taken the farm upon its own hands, and it will oppose your entrance with
armed resistance. I have nothing to do with it."

"What is the township of Bennington?" demanded Ten Eyck. "This land
belongs to the colony of New York under the crown. There is no town of
Bennington. What legal rights have a parcel of squatters to this
territory?"

Then Allen spoke. "The gods of the valleys are not the gods of the
hills, Sir Sheriff. You on the other side of the Twenty-Mile Line may
acknowledge the Governor of New York as your master; we on this side are
a free people. We have bought our lands from the government to which
they were granted by the King, and you shall not drive us from them!"

The colloquy ended and the settlers went back toward the house. After
the main body of his army came up, and their numbers seemed quite as
formidable as Crow Wing had reported, the sheriff pressed forward across
the bridge and approached the Breckenridge dwelling. Every settler had
disappeared by now and even those inside the house were still. Neither
the sheriff nor his men suspected that quite three hundred guns were
turned upon them and that, at the first fire, the carnage would be
terrible.

"Open in the name of the law!" exclaimed Ten Eyck, thundering at the
stout oak door of the house. "I demand admittance and that all within
come peaceably forth. Open, or I shall break down the door!"

There was silence for a moment, and then a voice said clearly from
within: "Attempt it and you are a dead man!"

The reply angered the doughty sheriff. He was being flouted and the
majesty of the law scorned. That was more than he could quietly bear.
"Come out and deliver up your arms in the name o' the King!" he cried.
"Ye rebels! I'll take the last of ye to Albany jail if ye do not
surrender!"

At this a chorus of derisive groans issued from behind the barred door
and shutters, and these sounds were echoed by other groans from the men
in ambush, until the very forest itself seemed deriding the Yorkers. The
knowledge that he and his men had fallen into a trap did not balk the
sheriff; his rage rose to white heat and calling for an axe he advanced
to the attack. The moment was freighted with peril. If the Yorkers