He limped along, and the sweat stood out on his face. "It's no use, Ben. I can't do it. I call that t-tough luck—to be cheated out of the best chance for hunting I ever had. Good-by."
He felt as bad over it as a boy of twelve would to lose Thanksgiving dinner.
We divided into two parties. A half a dozen Indians walked up the lake beyond the deer, so as to drive them toward us; and the rest of us went to the west side of the lake and up into the woods, till we were hidden from the lake.
We walked along on a path that was near the shore of the lake, till we were opposite the deer, and the Indians were already in a line on the further side of them.
"Now, boys," said McKinstry, "spread out, so that they can't run to the shore, and in this going we ought to get them all."
We went down on the ice and drove them toward the Indians and then formed a circle around them.
As we had rackets on, and the snow was deep, we could outrun the deer, and we killed the whole herd—twelve in all. Most of us shot our deer, but the Indians ran alongside of them and killed their deer with their hunting-knives.
"No more salt beef for us for a week or so," said McKinstry. "I've been longing for a bit of venison."
We cut up our deer, and making some rude sleds out of bark, placed our venison on them, and soon overtook the rest of our party, for they moved slowly.
Rogers had sent word to Fort Edward that many of the men were frost-bitten and unable to walk; and one hundred men with a number of Indian sleds were sent to us and met us on the lake. Amos got on one of these sleds, and we marched back to Fort Edward.