I had been feeling bad about the Indian that I wrestled with. He was such a fine fellow. How Jonas Parker would have delighted in him. Just a bundle of steel springs. There must have been a great deal that was good in a man like that.

I walked over to Captain Jacob, and said: "I had a wrestle with an Indian in that Fort Anne fight, Captain Jacob, and I killed him. I'm sorry, for he was a fine fellow."

"Yes, I heard! Big fight. Big Injun."

"Well, I should like to show those Indians that I thought well of him, and want also to do something for his wife and children, if he has any.

Now, I have ten Spanish dollars. I should like to buy some present, and send it to them, and tell them how much I thought of him and that I'm sorry I killed him."

"Oh, yes! Me send Injun. Me send what you call 'em--Injun flag of truce.

Me send presents. Tell 'em you heap sorry. Me tell 'em you think him heap big Injun."

"That's it. That's the talk, Captain Jacob. Here's the ten dollars. Buy what you think are the right presents for his wife and children, and I shall be much obliged to you."

"All right! Me do it!"

Some days later, Captain Jacob came to me and said:--

"All right, Ben Comee. Me send Injun. He see them Injuns. He give 'em your words. Injuns feel heap proud. They say that Injun, him big chief of Canawaugha Injuns. His name Gray Wolf. Best man they have. They feel glad you think heap of him. My Injun give 'em presents for his squaw and children. Give 'em rum, tobacco, and chocolate."

"Rum, tobacco, and chocolate?"

"Yes, heap rum, heap tobacco, heap chocolate!"

"Well, that was a mighty good idea, Jacob. There's lots of comfort in all three of those things. But I should never have thought of giving them to the widow and the orphans."

"Injuns ask, 'What that man's name?' 'Ben Comee in Captain Rogers's company. They give my Injun, pipe, wampum, and powder horn with carving on it for you.' They say: 'Ben Comee heap big paleface to kill Gray Wolf. We think as much of his scalp as of Captain Rogers's or John Stark's.'"

[Sidenote: LOUISBURG FALLS]

Edmund and Amos, who were standing near by, grinned, and Edmund said:--

"You seem to be pretty popular with those Indians, Ben. Don't get stuck-up over it."

"I don't see anything very funny about it, and hope that all three of us shall pa.s.s through the fiery furnace, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, without a hair of our heads being touched."

While we were being whipped by the French at Ticonderoga, another army under General Amherst and General Wolfe was besieging the fortress of Louisburg, on the island of Cape Breton. That army had good generals; and on the 28th of August we heard that the fortress had surrendered.

Edmund came out of Rogers's hut. We were waiting for him.

"Come along with me. Louisburg has fallen, and I've got to take some orders to the officers, about to-night. The four companies of Rangers with that army did well. Rogers is mightily pleased over it, and is going to celebrate their good behaviour. Rangers to be at the breastworks at six, and fire a salute. There's going to be high jinks to-night. I've got to go in here and see Stark."

The regiments were all under arms at the breastworks at six o'clock. It was the King's birthday, and the Royal Artillery began with a royal salute of twenty-one guns. Then the regiments fired in turn, till all had fired three times. After that the ranks were broken, and the fun began.

More good news came soon after, and this time our own army had a success. For Colonel Bradstreet with two thousand men had set out on an expedition against Fort Frontenac, and early in September he sent back word that he had taken and destroyed the fort.

These victories put new life into our men, and they became cheerful, and did not continually harp on our defeat.

Through Hector and Donald we came to know the men of the Black Watch well, and spent much of our leisure time with them, listening to their tales of cattle-lifting and of fighting in the Border.

[Sidenote: BORDER TALES]

Most of their talk was about the Rebellion of 1745, for the regiment was largely made up of Highlanders that had been "out" with Charlie. And when they drank the King's health, it was to King James they drank, and not to King George.

Their conversation was very interesting to Edmund and to me, for our family had lived together like a clan in Lexington, and the older people still kept certain Scotch customs and used queer expressions. As the Highlanders talked, a strange feeling would occasionally come over us, as if we had led that life and seen those sights at some dim, remote period.

In our own camp with the Rangers we heard stories of adventures in the woods with Indians, bears, and lucivees.

Old Bill McKinstry said, "I wish we had some good strong traps, and we could go off and trap bob-cat."

"And why shouldn't we have traps? What am I a blacksmith for? Just find me some old iron, and I will get the use of the armourers' forge."

They procured the iron, and I made eight big traps with strong jaws and a chain for each trap.

McKinstry, John Martin, Amos, and I got a furlough for a week, and so did Hector Munro, whom we asked to go with us. We packed up our traps and provisions on an Indian sled.

The winter had set in. The river was frozen over, and the snow was deep.

We fastened on our rackets and started to the southwest, where there was little likelihood that we should be disturbed by Indians. We went down the river, and turned off into a path that led to the west, and followed it till well into the afternoon, when we came to a good-sized pond. On the way, we shot several rabbits with which to bait the traps. McKinstry killed a hedgehog, which he said was just what he wanted. We chose a place where there were a couple of good-sized saplings, some twelve feet apart in a level and sheltered spot, not far from the pond.

[Sidenote: BUILDING A CAMP]

We cleared away the brush behind them, and fastened a pole from one tree to the other, some eight feet from the ground. Then we cut a number of long poles, and laying one end of them on the cross pole, and the other on the ground, made the skeleton of a lean-to hut. McKinstry had built a fire. He threw the hedgehog into it, and let him stay till the quills were well singed. Then he pulled him out and tied a string to him.

"What are you doing that for?"

"For a scent. I'll show you."

McKinstry and I set out with the traps and bait, leaving our companions to cut fir boughs, with which to thatch the roof and sides of the hut, and make a bed. He held the hedgehog up by the string, and we walked down to the pond, and along the edge of it.

"There's tracks enough, Ben. Must be game here. I'll scoop out a little snow, and you open the trap, and lay it in the hollow. Now, we'll cover it with twigs and leaves, to hide it. Cut up a rabbit, and lay the pieces on the twigs for bait. Bring me that log over there, and I'll fasten it to the chain for a clog. He'd gnaw, or pull his foot off, if we tied the trap to a tree. He'll haul the clog along, but he won't get many miles with it. Now we'll drag the hedgehog round, and the burnt quills will make a strong scent on the snow. That will do. We'll go on and pull the hedgehog through the snow behind us. When the animals strike that trail, they'll be apt to follow it to a trap."

We set all our traps along the edge of the pond, at quite a distance from each other; and at the last trap, cut up the hog, and baited the trap with it.

When we got back to camp, we found the roof and sides of the hut well thatched with boughs, and a good thick layer of them on the ground for a bed. The boys had collected a lot of wood, and piled it up near by. In front of the hut was a fire, at which Martin was baking some rye and Injun bread, and frying a large mess of pork.

When we had eaten our supper, it was solid comfort to sit in our hut, after our long day's work, to look at the fire blazing in front, to feel the heat, and watch the smoke curl up through the tree. On the further side of the fire they had built up a wall of green logs, so that the heat was thrown into the hut. We were snug and warm.

[Sidenote: JOHN McNEIL]

"Boys," said McKinstry, "when we get through with this war, you must come to the Amoskeag Falls, and visit your old friends. We've got some fine men there,--one's a great wrestler. I don't think your Jonas Parker could have stood up very long against him. His name is John McNeil. He is six feet six inches high, and used to be strong as a bull. He is a North of Ireland man, and had a quarrel with some big Injun over there, who came along on horseback, and struck at him with his whip. John pulled him off his horse, gave him a pounding, and had to leave the country. He settled at the Falls, and no man, white or red, could stand up against him for a minute. His wife, Christie, is a good mate to him, a big, brawny woman. One day a stranger came to the house and asked: 'Is Mr. McNeil at home?'

"'No,' says Christie; 'the gude man is away.'

"'That's a pity; for I hear that McNeil is a very strong man, and a great wrestler; and I've come a very long distance to throw him.'

"'Troth, man,' says she, 'Johnny is gone. But I'm not the woman to see ye disappointed, and I think if ye'll try me, I'll thraw ye myself.'

"The man didn't like to be stumped by a woman and accepted the challenge. Christie threw him, and he cleared out without leaving his name."

"That's a braw couple," says Hector. "I hope there were no quarrels in that household."