ii6 JUSTIN MORGAN 



ton for a time, and had an adventure known in the his- 

 tory of Vermont, although his name has never before 

 been recorded in connection with it. 



One evening he went, under the saddle of a revenue 

 officer, bent on a secret mission, to the mouth of the 

 Winooski. 



Chill and darkness settled on the forest, stars came 

 out and they tarried at the farm of Ira Allen, at Rocky 

 Point, until the great yellow moon swam into sight and 

 other officers joined them. 



Leaves rustled softly as they started out through the 

 woods, an owl hooted solemnly, and from somewhere far 

 off a whippoorwill called. 



A short ride brought them to rugged rocks and rude 

 cliffs overhanging the river, in the then almost untouched 

 forest, where Goss was left behind a sheltering boulder. 



In a few moments he distinctly saw a boat floating 

 on the quiet bosom of the water. The far-flung sound of 

 men's voices came to him borne on the slight wind that 

 sighed in the treetops. It was an inexpressibly lonely 

 spot, and Goss shuddered once with a feeling of impend- 

 ing tragedy. 



Having heard much talk of the Smuggler — ''Black 

 Snake'' — for which the Government had been watching 

 so long — with rum, brandy, and wines on board — it was 

 not hard for him to guess why the officers were here. 



As the vessel hove to, shadowy figures dropped from 

 her side and began unloading kegs and indistinguish- 

 able objects. For a time deathly stillness reigned. Ever 

 responsive to influences, Goss breathed softly, and did 

 not sneeze. The officers stepped as lightly as cats, brac- 

 ing themselves. 



Suddenly there was the crackle of a musket from the 

 bank, followed by others, then the boat answered, shot 

 for shot. The woods blazed — the echoes woke. Bullets 



