"She's gone home," said Donald, before his mother could answer. But Mrs. Scott told the little girl of how much Faith had missed her, and of the string of blue beads that she had left to be given to Louise.

It was evident that Louise was greatly disappointed to find that her friend had gone. But she fastened the beads about her neck, and touched them with loving fingers.

"Faith was my very first friend," she said. "My father says that we have come back to stay," she added, "and perhaps Faith will come in the summer?" There was such a pleading, questioning look in the girl's dark eyes that Mrs. Scott felt a new tenderness and sympathy for her, and put her arm about Louise as she answered:

"Perhaps she will. But you must come often and see me; for we shall both miss her very much."

"Oh, may I, Mrs. Scott? I was afraid you wouldn't want me to come,"

and Louise's face brightened.

"Why, I am to help you with your studies, and Donald is to call for you when you begin school. Faith arranged all that," responded Mrs.

Scott smilingly.

Faith was silent as the canoe went swiftly across the lake, and they had nearly reached the sh.o.r.e before she began asking questions about "Bounce," whom her father declared to be now a "grown-up cat," and about all the familiar things about the house and mill.

"Listen, father!" she said, as they landed, and he drew the canoe to its hiding-place in the alder bushes. "Hear the falls!" and for a moment the two stood quietly hearkening to the "Chiming Waters."

Then Mr. Carew adjusted the pack, containing Faith's belongings, picked up his musket, without which no woodsman dared travel in those days, and they started up the trail.

Everywhere were evidences that spring was near at hand. Many trees and shrubs were showing the delicate gray green of coming buds; and now and then the fragrance of the wild arbutus was in the air. Birds were busy; wood-thrushes and pewees were calling; now and then a golden-throated warbler sounded his clear note. The air was soft and warm for the season, and Faith was so happy in the thought of being really on her way home that she forgot for a time that Mr. Phelps had said that no American settler's home in the Wilderness could be safe until Fort Ticonderoga was held by American soldiers.

"It's lovely to be going home, isn't it, father?" she said; and Mr.

Carew smiled down at his little daughter, and agreed with her that nothing better could be desired.

"We shall see with glad surprise Lilies spring, and verdure rise; And soon, amidst the wilds, we'll hear Murmuring waters falling clear,"--

sang Mr. Carew softly.

"Oh, that is mother's song," exclaimed Faith. "It just means home, doesn't it?" And again her father was quite ready to agree.

They walked slowly up the rocky trail and when they reached the top of the first ridge they stopped to rest and eat the excellent lunch that Aunt Prissy had prepared for them. But Faith declared that she was not tired. It seemed to her that she could run all the way if her father would only permit. And when in the early afternoon she first heard the sound of the mill-stream she did run, until, out of breath, she had to rest on a moss-grown stump for her father to catch up with her.

And then, in a short time, they were standing on the edge of the clearing. The brook was dancing and singing as if eager to welcome Faith; the sun shone warmly down on mill and cabin and running down the path came Mrs. Carew; while standing near the cabin was Kashaqua, in her gayest feathers, grunting and smiling.

"Mother dear! Mother dear!" called Faith, as she ran forward and was held close in her mother's arms.

CHAPTER XIX

FAITH WRITES A LETTER

Kashaqua was evidently delighted to see Faith safely at home once more. She had brought a present for her little friend; and after Faith had talked to her mother, and yet, as she declared, had "not begun to tell her" all she had to tell, Kashaqua unrolled a soft bundle and spread out the skin of a black bear cub. It was hardly larger than the skin of a good-sized puppy; but the fur was so soft and glossy that Faith and her mother exclaimed admiringly over its beauty, and Faith said that she would take the greatest care of it. She questioned Kashaqua about "Nooski," the tame bear which had followed them on their journey to Ticonderoga.

"Gone!" replied Kashaqua, and had no more to tell of the wild creature that she had tamed, and, suddenly, Kashaqua disappeared in her usual silent fashion without a sign or word of farewell.

Faith was tired, and quite satisfied to rest on the big settle and talk to her mother, while "Bounce," steady and well-behaved, curled up on the hearth rug. Faith told her mother about Louise; about Caroline and Catherine and their mischief, and of the quilting party. She told her about Nathan Beaman, and of the skating on the lake, and how the English soldiers had extinguished the fire and spoiled their fun. But she did not tell her of the evening when she had guided Mr. Phelps up the moonlit lake to the foot of the cliff, and told him how to make his way into the fort. Some time, she resolved, her mother should know all about it; but she still felt that she must keep it a secret.

Mrs. Carew asked many questions about the fort.

"There is more travel over the trails than ever before," she told the little girl, "and we hardly know who are our friends. The English are sending their spies everywhere. Be very cautious, Faithie, and say nothing to any stranger that you have ever been near Fort Ticonderoga.

This part of the country will not be safe until American soldiers take the place of the English in the fort."

"Oh, mother dear, I hope they will soon. I wish that I could help take the fort."

"Who knows but you may help in some way, when the right time comes,"

her mother responded, smiling at her little daughter's eagerness.

"Now, I am going out to get something for you. Something that you will like very much," she added, and left Faith alone.

Faith closed her eyes, wondering happily what it was that her mother would bring. She thought of the caraway cookies, of the little round pies made of the dried pumpkin, and then a noise at the door made her open her eyes. For an instant she believed that she must be asleep and dreaming, for Esther Eldridge was standing in the door--Esther grown taller and stronger, with red cheeks and shining eyes.

"Yes, it's really Esther," Mrs. Carew called over the little girl's shoulder, and Esther ran toward the settle as Faith started forward to meet her.

"Isn't this a fine surprise?" Esther exclaimed. "I was so afraid you would hear about our living here before you got home."

"Living here?" questioned Faith, looking so puzzled that both Mrs.

Carew and Esther laughed aloud.

"Yes! yes, indeed! My father and mother and I," answered Esther delightedly.

"But where? I have been up-stairs, and all over the house and I didn't see anybody, or anything," said Faith.

"Oh, we live in our own house--a house just like this; or it will be just like this when it is all finished," and Esther told of her father's decision to bring his family to the Wilderness to live. He had purchased a grant of land adjoining that held by Mr. Carew soon after Esther's visit in September. The timber for the cabin had been cut early in the winter, and the cabin begun, and now it was nearly finished. "We moved last week," said Esther, "and you can see our house from your back door."

Faith forgot all about being tired and ran to the back door to look.

Yes, there it was; the big new cabin, near the path down which Ethan Allen had led her home, when, angry at Esther, she had run off to the woods.

"Isn't it splendid! Oh, Esther, it is the very best thing that ever happened," Faith declared; "isn't it, mother dear?"

Mrs. Carew was quite ready to agree with her little daughter. "Good neighbors was the only thing we really lacked," she agreed, "and perhaps others will come when there is better protection for their safety."

The two little friends had much to tell each other, and when Esther started for home Faith walked with her as far as the mill. From the mill the new cabin could be clearly seen.

"Do you remember asking me if I listened to the brook?" Esther asked laughingly, as they stood looking at the dancing waters of the stream.

"Well, I know now just what you meant. It's company, isn't it?"

Then Faith told her of the "Chiming Waters" of Ticonderoga, and of some of the old tales of the lake that her aunt and Nathan had related.

"Did you see the English soldiers?" questioned Esther.

"Oh, yes." And Faith described the skating party on the lake that the redcoats had interfered with. "I wish I could see Ethan Allen, as I did that day in September, and tell him all about the fort and the soldiers, and ask him to drive the English away. My father says that Colonel Allen could drive them away," said Faith.

"Of course he could! My father says so, too," agreed Esther. "Would it not be a fine thing for us to send him a letter, Faith, and ask him?"

"Oh, Esther! That's just what I thought of. But we ought to do it right away, for more soldiers are coming to the fort, Nathan Beaman says, and then it won't be so easy," responded Faith.

The two little girls talked earnestly. They both knew of the cave on the rocky slope near Lake Dunmore, and that messages were sometimes left there for the settlers. But Lake Dunmore was a long distance away.