"I'm no denying it. They fought well."
"And for country greenhorns, they did pretty well with the cannon the other day."
"Aye, man, I'm no saying they didn't. I'm a truthful man, and I maun say I was sair disappointed when they beat us shooting." And he changed the subject.
LAKE GEORGE
Though our camp was foul, yet the lake was the fairest spot I have ever seen—dotted with islands and hemmed in by mountains. Even Hector and Donald said it was "a bonny place, just for all the world like old Scotland."
We used to row on the lake, among the pretty islands, or lie in the boat and gaze at the mountains and the clouds floating over them. It seemed absurd that two great bodies of men should come to such a serene, peaceful place, and occupy their time killing each other.
About two weeks after the Fort Anne fight, Edmund and I had a chance to get away from camp for several hours, and started off with 'Bijah Thompson of Woburn, whom we found in Colonel Nichols's regiment.
We pulled out on the lake, went in swimming, and then rowed slowly along with our fish-lines trailing behind. But the fish didn't bite. We cut across the upper part of the lake, and as we approached the further side, Edmund said: "What's that over on the shore, Ben? There's some one there who seems to be making motions to us."
We rowed in that direction, and saw a man waving his arms, and heard a "hello!"
"That's no Frenchman. That's one of our men who has got lost in the woods, or who has escaped from the French."