On the 10th of March we set forth on snowshoes and travelled through the thick forest. That night we encamped at a brook. The Rangers built shelters of boughs in a short time. Big fires were made, and after we had our suppers and a pull at the pipe, we rolled ourselves up in our blankets and went to sleep.
The next morning we reached Lake George, and saw the blackened ruins of Fort William Henry, where the massacre had taken place some eight months before.
Of course I knew the story, but Martin had been there, and told me how the fort was besieged by Montcalm; and after it was battered to pieces, the garrison surrendered. They had given up their arms and were marching back to the English army, when the drunken Indians set upon them and killed and scalped most of the force. Martin caught up a little boy whose parents had been killed, and escaped through the dense woods.
AN ALARM
We marched down the lake in three files, threading our way among the islands and skirting the steep cliffs. The lake stretched out before us, covered with thick ice. On the further side were the woods and mountains.
We camped near the First Narrows that night. The next day we turned away from the lake and went to a cape called Sebattis Point.
"What's the matter, Martin? Why do we halt?"
"Didn't you see a dog run across the lake, some distance down?"
"Yes, I saw something go across."
"Well, it was a dog, and if there was a dog, there were probably Indians with him. What would a dog be doing out here alone?"