Tom had a great many cabins or caves between the Water Gap and Shohola, and was never at a loss for a place to stay over night. But he usually wintered at the house of some mutual friend, and the terms upon which he stayed was that he should furnish the winter meat. Any family living on the border was anxious and willing to board him; for during his stay they were sure of being provided with plenty of game and living on the fat of the land.
On one occasion winter set in earlier than usual and he did not have his usual supply of venison on hand to supply the table of the friend with whom he intended to winter. He made arrangements for a long hunt in a part of the country where he knew that game was plenty, and in a few days he would get sufficient to supply his friend’s cabin for a long time.
The night before he intended to start, a friendly Indian called at the cabin and asked to stay over night, which was granted.
Tom was suspicious, although the Indian appeared to be friendly. They soon became acquainted, and it was not long before they agreed to go on a hunt, Tom agreeing to take the venison for his part and the Indian the skins.
Game was plenty, especially deer. In fact the woods seemed to be full of them. It was bang!—bang!—bang! and at every report a deer fell. They were soon skinned and the hind quarters hung up out of the reach of bears and wolves until Tom could get time to take them to the cabin.
When they came to count, they found that they had killed seven. The Indian was in the best of spirits, and so was his companion.
Me lucky, said the Indian. Me got seven skins. They worth seven dollars. That buy me piles of fire water, powder and lead. Whoop! Whoop!
Seven skins was all the Indian could carry, and it was resolved to return, Tom to the cabin, and the Indian to Minisink to get powder, fire water and lead.