“This looks like a good spot for fishing.”
“I don’t know but that you are right, Dave. Those trees back of us cut off most of the sunlight, and a hollow like that ought to be good for at least one fair-sized trout.”
“Do you think any of the other soldiers have been down to this part of the lake?”
“Hardly,” answered Henry Morris. “At least, there are no signs of them,” he went on, as he examined the ground with the care of an Indian trailer.
“If we are the first to try this vicinity we certainly ought to have good luck,” continued Dave Morris, as he dropped several of the traps he carried to the ground and began to prepare his fishing pole for use. “By the way, do you think there are any Indians in this vicinity?”
“Only those who are under command of Sir William Johnson. They sent all the French redskins about their business in short order.”
“How long do you suppose our troops will be kept around Fort Niagara?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Dave. We may get marching orders at any time. Now that the fort is ours all Sir William has to do is to leave a small force in command and then sail down the lake and the St. Lawrence to Montreal and Quebec. We’ve got the French on the run and we ought to keep ’em on the run until they give up fighting altogether.”
“I wonder if General Wolfe has had a battle yet.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised. Reckon we’ll get word in a few days. But come, let us keep quiet, or we won’t get even a perch, much less a trout,” concluded Henry Morris.