Three Rivers
Hudson~Mohawk~Schoharie
History From America's Most Famous Valleys

The Life and Adventures
of Nat Foster,
Trapper and Hunter of the Adirondacks
by A. L. Byron-Curtiss
Utica, N. Y.
Press of Thomas J. Griffiths,
131 Genesee Street, 1897

Chapter XII

One time Foster's life was threatened by a pack of hungry wolves. The way he conducted himself on the occasion, and the manner in which he afterwards related the occurrence was characteristic of the man. It happened early in the spring, after he had been home for a short time and had returned to the wilderness for a final six weeks of trapping. On the third day in, he reached the beginning of his line of traps. At the intersection of the Lime Kiln creek and Moose river, where he camped for the night. His traps extended from here, up the creek to the lake of the same name. From there they ran north to Fourth Lake on the Fulton Chain, then taking a northeasterly course they extended as far as Racquet Lake.

The morning following his camp at the mouth of Lime Kiln creek, he started up the stream, visiting his traps as he went along. Although he did not expect to find much game in them, he visited them all for the purpose of setting and rebaiting those requiring it. As they lay on both sides of the stream he was constantly crossing from one side to the other on the convenient logs and fallen trees, making slow progress up the stream. Not until he reached the falls on the creek, where he arrived in the middle of the afternoon, did he find game to amount to anything. Below and in the vicinity of the falls, he took from various traps and snares, three beavers, a fisher, one red fox, and several mink. This was better than he had expected, for beavers were usually caught by baiting the traps with fresh castereum or beaver caster obtained from the carcass of any beaver and setting the trap near the school or settlement of beavers. Minks were usually snared with the aid of a fresh decoy trail made by dragging the entrails and stomach of a deer or other large animal over the snow and setting dead falls and small steel traps baited with meant along the course. As he had not been on the ground for some time to attend to these details of the trapper's art, he was agreeably surprised to find so many of these animals taken.

Gathering all together, he carried them to a large flat rock at the foot of a hill opposite the falls, and set about the task of skinning the game, casting the flayed carcasses on the ground by his side. As it was late when he completed the work he decided to camp where he was for the night. With an eye to the speedy erection of a shelter for himself, he selected the spot where he had been working, and appropriated a side of the rock that was perpendicular to rest the roof of his hut upon; he quickly made a little bower of boughs by placing poles from the rock to the ground and covering them and closing one side with the branches of evergreens. Then cutting a huge armful of the evergreens he strewed them on the ground underneath the little roof, and had a snug and well sheltered place for the night. After gathering some firewood he prepared his evening meal, which consisted of a slice of corned venison toasted on a spit, tea made in his tin teapot, and bread which he had thus early in the trip.

While eating his upper he heard the dismal howl of a wolf, as if calling another. Soon it was answered by a responsive howl from one deep in the woods, and this again was taken up by another still deeper in the forest. Such sounds were familiar to the lone hunter encamped by the rock, and he finished his repast, lighted his pipe, and settled himself for a comfortable smoke, without giving heed to the doleful sounds that came from the depths of the woods; still the howls continued, increasing as the darkness deepened. The wolves were evidently gathering in a pack for some purpose or another, but not thinking that they would disturb him, Foster finished his pipe with composure, and replenishing the fire, betook himself to his shelter, and wrapping his blanket about him, sought the sleep he desired and needed. At intervals of two or three minutes he would hear the long drawn out howl which would have sent terror to the heart of the person unused to such sounds, but which did not at all disturb out hero, who suffered himself to sink into a peaceful slumber, from which he was awakened in a couple of hours by the most startling noises the ever fell on a hunter's ears. His fire had burned low and the wolves had surrounded his camp in a pack, being attracted by the smell of the carcasses of the beavers and minks he had left by the rock. They were now having a furious fight over the meat, barking, yelling, squealing and snapping at each other in their eagerness to get the toothsome morsels.

For an instant Foster was frightened at the fearful din they were making and was puzzled as to how he was to escape from the predicament, for the pack had completely surrounded his camp, and were even crowded together in front of the opening of his hut. Seizing his rifle and ammunition he crawled out of his shelter and spring for the rock. Leaping over the ferocious brutes, who snapped at his as he cleared them.

The pack instantly surrounded the rock, and with howls and snarls they sat upon their haunches, licking their chops in expectation as they eyed the lone man hungrily, for the little meat afforded them by the carcasses of the beavers and minks, were nothing to a pack of wolves that had been enduring hunger a whole winter.

Once on the rock, Foster regained his composure and prepared to begin an onslaught on his foes by putting the usual six rifle balls between his fingers, and placing his powder horn within his easy and mechanical reach.

"I will say right here," said Foster, in after years, when he would relate the adventure, "it was not a very desirable place to be in, particularly if a man was anything of a coward, for the wolves were desperate and bound to have a square meal before they quit. But as captain of my own company, I determined to keep a cool head; I gave the word to assault the enemy and opened fire on the varmints, and if I ever made six shots in one minute I done it then, and though I couldn't see the sight of my gun I could see the outlines of the wolves by the light of the moon plain enough,and picked 'em off easy. At first they seemed inclined to stand their ground,and as fast as I could thin 'em out they would close up together like a lot of soldiers; but after a few rounds they began to weaken, and soon commenced to back off, and at last the retreat became general, and I was master of the field."

In fact, he had either killed, wounded or driven away the whole pack by his rapid and deadly firing. But with his usual indifference he descended from the rock and throwing more wood on the fire, sought his blanket again, not even looking out for the wolves he might have killed. He was not to remain long undisturbed, however, for he was awakened again in a couple of hours, by the wolves barking and yelping over a bone or possibly the body of one of their own number, down by the river. But as they were not threatening him, he rolled over for another nap, when he heard them approaching with ominous growls. Seizing his rifle he crawled out again,and stood his ground, this time in front of the rock. They were cowardly now, and kept outside of the feeble glare of light sent out by the glowing embers of his fire. He waited for them to come nearer, but as they kept back in the darkness, he fired at them at random. "In a few moments," he declared, "all was as quiet as a grave yard;" and going back to his couch of boughs he rested quietly the remainder of the night.

The next morning he went out and inspected the field of battle, finding twelve dead wolves, and one wounded one some distance from the scene of the night's action, making thirteen in all. A number which he declared was unlucky generally, but was lucky for him on that occasion, as he succeeded in getting all the heads and pelts out of the woods, and ultimately collecting the large bounty due him.

Foster first visited Bald Mountain and the First Lake on Fulton Chain when a young man, and before any improvements had been made there. What is now so well known as the Old Forge did not exist. Brown or his son-in-law Herreshoff had not yet penetrated the wilderness, or probably even contemplated what was afterwards their vain attempt to subdue it, and cultivate the stubborn soil or wring from the heart of the mountains the valuable ores that are still believed by many to be there.

Fabulous stories are told of hunters finding extensive lodes of iron and lead, and it is sometimes hinted even more valuable ore. It is told of Foster that on one occasion when he was sojourning for some time on the Chain, a party of Indians invited him to join them in shooting at a mark, but that he declined on the ground that he could not afford to waster his bullets, for, although, he had the molds for running bullets for his rifle he had no more lead. At this, it is said, one of the Indians volunteered to get him all the lead he wanted; taking his canoe the Indian paddled up First Lake, being gone a couple of hours. When he returned had had a lump of almost pure lead, as large as his head, which he declared he got from a "rock" in the woods; but its location he would not divulge. The truth of this story cannot be verified.

Another circumstance related of him, however, goes to show without doubt that Foster did find valuable ore or carbon in his wanderings in the wilderness. For he and his son David, who lived with him for a time at Old Forge, were aware of the existence of a vein--of valuable materiel of some king. They never revealed its location, and after they withdrew from the wilderness, at the shooting of the Indian Drid, they abandoned, for a time at least, the idea of gaining any benefit from their knowledge. Finally Foster died, and his son David removed to Ohio. After a short residence there, he returned to New York with the express intentions of making use of his knowledge of the location of the vein in question; but before his plans were matured he was injured by an accident. A stone fell on his limbs and crushed them, from the effects of which he died. Before his death, he dictated to his family a description of the trail to be followed from the Old Forge to the vein, which was taken down in writing by a member of his family. This document which I have seen, is now in the possession of one of his kinsmen. But it would be difficult, if not an almost impossible task, it seems to me to make any use of it; as the course is indicated by certain trees, stumps, hillocks and rocks which must be quite changed now. If this vein, which from the paper I would take to be either lead or coal, and which a dying man considered important enough to dictate directions to, is ever found, it must be by renewed searches and developments.

But let us leave this "prospecting" feature into which my story has drifted, and listen to an adventure Foster had on this tract with a couple of Indians, in which he disposed of them in his usual way.

As I have said, when he was wont to first visit the tract around the Old Forge and Fulton Chain, it was still as wild and uninhabited as in its most primitive days. It was destined however, to be the scene of activity and industry for a little while, then to relapse almost into a state of nature again, when it was to be the scene of the closing tragedy in the hunter's life, and finally to become the resort of thousands of sportsmen and others, seeking pleasure, recreation and health.

Foster first visited the part of the wilderness in July. Hunters often went into the woods at this time of the year to built their camps, as the bark of the trees would peel readily only at this time. He "toted" in a great load of traps, and left them at Second Lake. He then proceeded to Fourth Lake, where he made himself a canoe. He then returned to Second Lake, getting his traps and scattering them along his contemplated winter's route, going as far as Long Lake. This task of distributing and concealing his traps being completed, he returned to Eighth Lake, where he built a substantial camp of logs and bark, located at the foot of the lake near the outlet. This he intended to use as his headquarters for the winter.

Hunters found it necessary as well as convenient to erect "way stations" or small camps along their routes, where they could store some wood for a quick fire, and have a convenient place to stop if night overtook them before they could return to their main camp. So after erecting the snug cabin on Eighth Lake, Foster rowed to the foot of First Lake, and looked about for a suitable place for locating one of these camps. Near the outlet of the lake he found what he recognized at once as a capital thing for a way station, and also a valuable place for concealment for whatever he wished to hide from roving Indians. It was the stump or stub of a huge hollow tree. The trunk of the tree had been broken off about seven feet from the ground, doubtless by some gale of wind. He cut a hole through the shell of the stump, and then cleaned and hewed out the rotten wood inside, so that he had a little room nearly six feet in diameter. By roofing the top with bark he had a tight and snug place of concealment for his things, and ample room for himself and his dog, if they were ever overtaken in those parts by a thunder storm, or had to spend the night there. Putting his pack basket on the bottom, he could seat himself thereon, and with his dog at his feet, could comfortably spend a few hours of repose in this strange hut.

Much pleased with the affair, he gathered some dry wood, and put it together with some traps, an axe, his tin teapot and frying pan inside, and closed the aperture he had made in the side by drawing the bushes around it. Felling a sapling so that its bush top rested on the top of the stump, thus effectually concealing the bark roof. He concealed his boat by the shore, and turned his face homeward, well satisfied that he would find things as he had left them. He returned the following November, and found everything undisturbed, and commenced operation at once, setting traps on his route, operating along the Fulton Chain, up the head waters to Racquet Lake, and on to Long Lake, which marked the end of his extensive course. It took him a week to make the round. Then he returned to his camp on Eighth Lake, and "set up housekeeping" in his cabin.

At first his success was far beyond his expectations; taking unusually large quantities of fur, so that the outlook was for a season of the most profitable trapping he had ever had. At the end of a few weeks, however, the amount of game he took from his traps grew constantly less, the decrease being most prominent on the northern part of his route. He found footprints of Indians on this part of his line, and knew at once that they were stealing from his traps. The operated very cautiously, however, and he saw nothing of them, or of the carcasses of the animals they must have taken from his traps. They were so sly that he ceased attending to the upper end of his route, and only operated between his camp at Eighth Lake and his stump camp at the foot of First Lake, for he knew that if he stopped setting and baiting his traps on the upper section of the route, the Indians, who were too lazy to either take traps into the woods, or attend to them even after they were placed, would then come down to the lower end of his route, and he would then have an opportunity to settle with them.

This plan worked as he expected. One forenoon he returned to his camp at Eighth Lake, having spent the night at his camp at Eighth Lake, having spent the night at his stump camp, and found the carcasses of several beavers and fishers by the camp. He examined them and found the marks of a trap on each one. This made him thoroughly mad; he was bringing traps from his home in Salisbury, toting them on his back some forty miles, and then the Indian getting the benefit. He resolved to "clean the Indians out," even if he had to "scare them clear to Canada" in doing it.

They were evidently in the vicinity now, and he determined to meet and "fix" them ere the sun went down. Fortune materially assisted him in carrying out this resolve, though he did not actually accomplish it until long after sunset.

Taking the rifle and getting into his canoe, he padded swiftly, but cautiously, down the lakes, keeping a sharp lookout of the Indians. He went so far as Sixth Lake without seeing anything of them. At the foot of Sixth Lake he had to "carry," but undaunted he took his canoe on his shoulders, and quickly walked to Fifth Lake without a stop. Launching his craft here, he continued on his course to Fourth Lake, where he concluded to visit some of his traps to see if the Indians had visited them yet. Rowing into a little cove in the shore opposite Bear Island, he drew his canoe into some bushes that grew to the water's edge, and made his way to some mink traps he had set, quite a distance in the woods. He found them unmolested, some having game in them; this he took and returned to the lake. What was his surprise on reaching it to find a pack of furs, with some game, lying on the shore. He drew back into the bushes immediately upon discovering the heap, and peered cautiously around for those who had brought it.

Looking out upon the lake he was not surprised at seeing a canoe being paddled by two Indians towards the island. When they reached it they drew their canoe on the shore, and taking their rifles, disappeared in the woods that were then very dense on the island.

Foster now concluded that these Indians had left the fur and game where it was, to go and explore the island, expecting to find him encamped there. He had no doubt from their actions that they intended to shoot him if they found him there,and then return to get the things they had left, and continued their round of his traps. He examined the bodies of the mind and fisher that the Indians had left with the pack of furs, and found that they were still warm; and having the marks of the traps on their limbs, he knew that they had been but recently taken from his traps farther up the lake. The Indians were probably ashore when he rowed down, and did not see him, nor he them.

Fortunately he had taken pains to conceal his canoe when he landed, so that it escaped the Indians observation. Drawing it form the bushes, he hastily put the furs and all the game in it, and paddled rapidly down the lakes to his stump camp at the foot of Fourth Lake; when he arrived it was about four o'clock in the afternoon. The first think he did was to start a fire, and cook himself some supper from provisions he had in the stump. After appeasing the hunger his long fast from morning had created, he began putting in operation a plan he had thought of for fooling the Indians. He knew they would soon return to the cove for the things they had left, and finding them gone, would probably conclude that he had visited the spot and taken them, and returned to his camp on Eighth Lake, of the existence of which he knew they must be aware. Thinking he had gone up the lakes, they would continue on down the lakes, robbing his traps as they went. When they reached the foot of First Lake, they would look about for a camp, and he resolved to have one ready for them.

Selecting a favorable spot a few rods from his stump, he proceeded to build one of those comfortable little huts of boughs he was so expert in making in so short a time. On completing the shelter he arranged a pile of hemlock twigs under it, and covered them with a blanket, so that it looked exactly like a figure of a man reposing. By the time he had completed all of these arrangements it was disk; he now started a fire in front of the open end of the shanty, and betook himself to his hollow stump, and seating himself on his pack basket, with his dog at his feet, and his rifle between his knees, he waited to see what would come of his ruse.

As the darkness deepened the fire blazed more brightly, for he had put on a great quantity of wood. He watched its fierce burning with satisfaction, for he knew that if the Indians were in the vicinity they would see it, and as it burned low, and the night advanced they would investigate it. It was a weary vigil, and he allowed himself to fall into a doze, as he knew faithful old Watch would awaken him when the Indians came. He was a faithful canine, and exact counter part of his mother Rose, who was the hunter's companion in his youth.

Foster had dozed and slept some time, when the dog roused him by his trembling body as it lay against his feet. He knew at once that Watch had scented the Indians. He cocked his rifle and peered out of the opening in the stump. The fire was now a heap of coals, which sent out a ruddy glow, just lighting up the interior of the hut of boughs, revealing the blanket as a sleeping man. His quick ear soon detected the careful dip of a paddle, and in a few moments he saw through the trees the two Indians in their canoe, appear from the inky darkness which hung over the waters of the lake; they paddled to the shore, stepped carefully out, and pulled their boats onto the beach.

They stood motionless on the shore for a couple of minutes, with their rifles in their hands taking observations, and then began to pick their way carefully towards the camp.

Said Foster in relating this adventure: "As I watched 'em I got most excited as my dog, and could hardly keep from leaping out of my stump, and actually shooting 'em. The two red devils skulked along craning their necks, nodding their heads, and motioning to each other as they pointed to the fire and the hut. They would advance about three steps, and then they would stop and listen, and altogether acted like two of the most detestable and cowardly whelps that they were.

"Finally they got where they could see inside of the hut,and then the cusses had to stop and have another conflab with each other in their sign talk. I most made up my mind again to shoot 'em dead, they looked and acted so cussedly devilish, and I did get out of my stump and got up behind a big hemlock tree ready to shoot 'em; but I restrained myself and let 'em proceed. Finally they moved again, and worked up closer, so they had a good view of what they thought was me in the hut. Then, after a little more of their motioning, they both took aim at the blanket and fire.

"And this transaction" Foster was wont to say in concluding his account of the story, "so excited me that I yelled in my excitement, and my dog bayed with a vengeance, and sometimes I've thought," he would say in a reminiscent manner, "that I must have fired twice right in the direction of them Indians, but I was so excited I don't exactly remember. But anyhow, I know I discharged my gun, and I've always been of the opinion that it had the desired effect, for Watch and me didn't have any more trouble with the red devils after I scart 'em away from my stump camp, and I had a fine season of trapping."

It was Foster's first encounter with Indians on the Fulton Chain, and occurred several years before any white man had penetrated the wilderness to settle it. We see how easily he accounted then for the way in which he disposed of the Indians that troubled him.

Years after, however, he was to have an encounter with another one of the race, the serious outcome of which could not be easily gotten rid of.

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