Robert Roberts was born in New Hampshire, and, about the year 1760, was the leader of a body of provincial rangers, known by his own name. Among his associates was Israel Putnam, whose most daring exploits were performed while engaged with him in his forest warfare.
The date which brought Rogers into notice was that in which the great rival nations, France and England, were striving for the possession of the American continent. The rivalry had been going on for years, and, as might be expected, the Indians had been brought into the contest. These, almost invariably, were upon the side of the French; but it availed nothing in the end. The steady, indomitable, persevering spirit of the English settler could be stayed by no obstacle, and France saw that slowly and surely the red cross was supplanting her own fleur de lis in the depths of the American forest.
Rogers' principal theater of action was that wild, mountainous region round Lake George, "the dark and bloody ground" intervening between the hostile forts of Crown Point and Ticonderoga. Here, in these gloomy solitudes, his resolute spirit encountered the jealous French, with their wily Indian allies, and here some of the most sanguinary conflicts and desperate encounters of the war occurred. More than once did the lonely hunter encounter this band threading their way through the woods as silent and as cautious as the savage himself; in summer they glided across and around the lake in their canoes, building their camp-fires in the wildest gorges of that romantic country; and in winter they skirted it on snow-shoes, or shot from one portion to another on skates. Their daring soon made their name famous through every civilized portion of the country. If a French messenger left Ticonderoga, he was almost certain to fall into the hands of Rogers, and any scouting party that ventured forth was sure to get a taste of the mettle of these fellows before they returned. But for the subsequent course of Rogers, he might be not unaptly termed the Marion of the frontier.
The Leap for Life.—Page [46].
It was sometimes the custom of Rogers to leave his men in camp, and venture into the forest unaccompanied by any one. At such times he often wandered a dozen miles away, easily making his way back through the trackless forest at night again. It was on one of these occasions that he met with the following adventure.
It was in the dead of winter, and his men, as usual, were on snow-shoes. They encamped at night in a deep hollow along the lake, and the next morning Rogers left them, with instructions to remain in their present quarters until his return.
He took a direction toward Ticonderoga, and, about the middle of the day, reached a point near the northern end of the lake. During this journey, it is hardly necessary to say that he was on the alert for his enemies. He knew they lurked in every part of the forest, and that the scalp of no white man would afford half the rejoicing that his would. Up to this point, however, his experienced eye had failed to detect the first signs of their presence.
He was contemplating the scene around, carefully taking in all its parts, when he heard the breaking of the snow-crust behind him. Turning his head, he discovered, in one instant, that he had walked directly into a trap. On one side was the steep, precipitous side of the mountain, descending down to the lake; while on the other, radiating outward, so as to cut off all escape, he saw nearly thirty Indians rapidly shuffling toward him on their snow-shoes, yelling with delight and exultation at the prospect of his certain capture.
They had probably followed him for miles, in the hope of taking him alive, and he had thus given them a better opportunity than even they dared hope for.