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 V

Let us now return to that humble home in Hinsdale, New Hampshire, and see what was going on there while the husband and father was passing through the exciting scenes and incidents of the war, and enduring the privations and destitutions of the seven years' struggle for liberty. The lacked but little of being as hard at home and among the members of that patriotic family, as were the experiences of the loved one who was absent.

It will be remembered that Mr. Foster left for the seat of war on the first of February. He had seen to it that they were well supplied with food and fuel, enough to last them until spring. He had worked up a huge pile of wood,and corded it near the cabin, while corned and cured meat, such as pork, venison, and bear meat, enough for the winter, had been provided in the fall, so they lived fairly well. As the spring approached, Mrs. Foster began preparations to till the soil as best she could in the absence of her husband.

There were but few men in the whole township. The majority of them being away to war. All of the Tories, with the exception of the Wilson family had removed to Boston. The few men that were left, however, generously gave such aid as they could to the families of the absent patriots. All but Wilson; he was still butter against the cause of the Colonies: and "Billy" Wilson (as the people of the township called him) was anything but beloved by them. A kind neighbor of Mrs. Foster plowed her land. And with her own hands she planted the seeds. Corn and flax were sown, and potatoes planted. The older children worked with a will and with the aid of their half-grown strength, she looked after the crops faithfully during the summer, harvesting them in good shape in the fall.

Elisha and Nat trapped and hunted incessantly. But their great drawback was the need of a good gun to shoot with. Their father owned two guns, but had taken the best one with him. The remaining one the boys would carry into the woods, and although unable to shoot without a rest, they would often be successful in bagging small game. The gun being a smooth bore, could not bring down any of the larger game they often had the opportunity of shooting. This, as can be readily imagined, was a great irritation to the boys, particularly when they would see a noble moose or deer stalking serenely by them beyond the reach of their buckshot.

When, at length, they encountered a panther in a tall sycamore tree, and failed to bring it down with repeated shots from their smooth bore, their indignation knew no bounds. They immediately went to the town store, two miles away, and, manlike, contracted with the proprietor of the store for a rifle, to be paid for from the pelts and skins of such animals as they might shoot or trap. The boys obtained their precious gun by the middle of the summer, and then the deer, moose and other large game began to suffer. Even though they had not the strength of manhood, their marksmanship was accurate. Young Nat, who was but nine years old, was even a better shot than Elisha, who was two years his senior. And though he could not fire either gun without the recoil knocking him over, still he never failed to bring down his game. They soon had enough wild meat corned and cured to last them through the approaching winter. And this, with the successful harvesting of the crops, put all fears of a lack of food from Mrs. Foster's mind. But what gave her the greatest anxiety, was the question of clothing for her children. Their large flock of sheep had been sadly depleted by the depredations of the Indians before Mr. Foster went away; and the wool from the three or four remaining ones would not furnish enough material for sock for the family, to say nothing of shirts, trousers and jackets for the boys, and dresses and petticoats for the girls. Her only resource was to rough linen, made from the flax she had grown. This she had cultivated with great care, and safely harvested it. So working it up from the rough, by the laborious process of pounding, carding, spinning, and weaving, she made passable clothing for her brood of little ones.

As the autumn came, the boys turned their attention to the working up of a supply of winter's wood. They would go into the woods and chop down immense trees, and hitching their ox team to the logs, drag them to the cabin, where Mrs. Foster, herself, would aid them in splitting and chopping them into sections of the proper size for burning in their one fire place. But although they prepared an immense amount of wood, before the winter was half gone, their supply was exhausted. Then the boys, in the midst of the cold and stormy weather, would work from day to day at wood chopping. In this occupation they resorted to a device for keeping their feet warm, which was both unique and original, and also shows their unprotected condition. They had no socks to protect their feet from the cold, only rude moccasins made by themselves from deerskin. So in order to keep their feet warm, and permit them to work at their wood shopping, without losing time to go beside the fire to get warm, they split a beech log into sections, five or six inches in thickness. Then hewing them down smooth with an ax, they would place them by the fire and heat them as much as possible without igniting them. To the choppers' yard one of the boys would then run out with one of the heated blocks and placing it one the chips, the one chopping would stand upon it while he worked. As it became cold, it would be replaced with one fresh from the fireplace. In this manner the boys worked on day after day, until gentle spring came again, and released them from their struggle with the cold. It is needless to say that after this experience the boys always laid in wood enough to last through the entire winter.

As each season came and went the children increased in size and strength, doing each year a greater amount of work for the common welfare of the family. The boys early attained their growth. Their muscles were knit into sinews of iron by their sturdy labor in field and wood, and by the time Elisha and Nat were fourteen or fifteen years of age, they easily did the work of men.

Many and varied were the experiences and adventures of these boys. Together they were the "head of the family" in the matter of working the farm and otherwise providing for the wants of all.

It was one summer day during the second year of their father's absence that they had their first and last serious difficulty with Indians. Previously they had been frequently visited by wandering red men, who would apply for something to eat, always helping themselves, if what was offered them was not satisfactory. They often carried away with them a considerable quantity of the family's supply of provisions, and there being no men around they were never resisted. They often compelled the boys to turn their grindstone for them to sharpen their knives and tomahawks, occasionally amusing themselves by threatening to tomahawk and scalp them. They would take hold of one of the children, and encircling its head with the back of a knife (after the manner of scalping) would show the trembling children how the thing was done.

On the occasion mentioned, a party of ten Indians came to the cabin and demanded venison and "fire water." The latter they did not have, but of the former, Mrs. Foster gave them a large piece she had already cooked for the household. They did not seem at all disposed to hurry away, but made themselves at home, making a meal of the haunch of venison and some corn bread Mrs. Foster had in the house. Elisha and Nat viewed these proceedings with ill-concealed contempt, and when they dispatched Nat to a spring to fill their jug with water, he went only out of sight of the cabin and filled it from a stagnant frog pond. While he was absent the Indians began to ransack the cabin for the barrels of venison they knew must be about, but also collecting whatever met their fancy. Elisha, whose indignation now knew no bounds, met Nat on his return and informed him of the Indian's doings. He, of course, became as mad as Elisha, and together they hurried to the cabin, determined to do something to stop the lawless proceedings. Going to the chief they commenced their angry protests. He paid no attention to their vehement language, however, but reaching out his hand, took the jug of water Nat had brought and placing it to his mouth, proceeded to take a long and deep draught. One gurgle of the foul water down his throat roused his wrath. Setting the jug down, he uttered a command in his own dialect to the others, and they seized Nat, bound him, dragged him from the cabin, and fastened him to a tree. Then brandishing their tomahawks, they danced about the fettered youth, who remained as stolid as one of their own chiefs in a war council.

But consternation filled the rest of the family. With a scream of terror, Mrs. Foster threw herself on her knees before the chief and besought him to spare her boy. He, still thinking of the undiscovered venison, told her he would release the boy for a good supply of that article. "Take it," said Mrs. Foster, "take everything, only spare my boy." She led the way to an outer cellar behind the cabin where the venison was concealed, and allowed them to help themselves. After doing so and nearly emptying a whole barrel in the process, they gathered up the clothing and blankets of skin they had collected and took their departure, leaving Nat still tied to the tree. He was released from the position by Elisha, and together the angry and incautious lads would have set out after the Indians with their guns if not restrained by their mother. Nat was so angered that the declared an Indian would never lay hands on him again and live; a threat which he fully verified in after life.

When chided by his mother for bringing stagnant water instead of fresh spring water to the Indians, and reminded by her of the nearly fatal results of his doing so, he declared that he did not care, that "frog water was good enough for the Injun whelps."

During the same summer, after this trouble with the Indians, the boys had a serious encounter with an old female panther. It happened in this wise. A bear was seen to cross the clearing surrounding the cabin one morning and disappear in the woods. The immediately abandoned the work they were engaged in, got their guns and started in pursuit. As the bear had a considerable start in the woods, they were obliged to follow him by trail. Following it quite a distance they observed, as they supposed, that the bear had suddenly changed its course, and started off at right angles to his former one. They immediately started in the new directions with eager expectation of overtaking bruin. The went but a little ways before they did start up game; not the bear, but instead, and ugly old female panther, with two kittens under her maternal care. The kittens were not over two days old, and evidently had only just got their eyes open, and were out for their first promenade. The old panther sprang into a hemlock tree as the boys approached her lair, and lashing the boughs with her tail, prepared to spring upon them. A hasty, very hasty council of war was held by the young hunters. Elisha, who carried the old smooth bore, told Nat to fire first, while he would reserve his charge of buckshot for a contest at close range if it became necessary.

Nat accordingly took careful aim, using the side of a tree for a rest, and fired. The rifle, as usual, kicked him over, but a scream of pain from the panther told him that his bullet had reached its mark. Screeching with pain and fury, the panther scrambled to the very top of the tree and turned to spring, but fell to the ground. The boys shouted with joy, supposing she was dead. But not so--up she jumped the moment she struck the ground, and with long leaps made towards the boys. Elisha now aimed his smooth bore across the shoulders of Nat, who knelt down to afford his brother this rest, and fired into the very face of the panther, as he was scarcely twelve feet away. The peppery buckshot was effectual. With another leap she fell dead at their very feet. It was a narrow escape for the boys, but they were as cool and indifferent as mature men. Nat said he did not know which was worse, to shoot panthers or fight "Injuns".

After skinning the panther, they looked around for the young ones and found them under the shelter of a huge rock, and mewing piteously for their mother. The boys took them home and kept them for some time; but as they grew larger and more playful, they also became more troublesome, so they were killed and the bounties for them obtained from the town. This bounty obtained for the slaughter of bears, wolves and panthers, though very small during the war, was about the only source of cash revenue the lads had, and the few shillings they obtained from the town in this way enabled them to keep going with tolerable fairness.

One night Nat started after the cows rather late, and being in a great hurry, did not stop to get a gun, as he usually did on going into the woods. The Fosters had no pasture fenced in. The land about the cabin whereon the crops were grown, was surrounded by a stone and log fence, and the herd was allowed to roam at will. This evening they had wandered an unusual distance into the woods, and and it was disk before Nat located them by the tinkle of the bell on the leader. He rounded them up at once and started them off home at a brisk walk. They seemed somewhat frightened and loath to proceed, which immediately aroused Nat's suspicion that a wolf or panther had driven them into the woods, and was probably now lurking about. The had proceeded but a little ways on the homeward panther ere his suspicions were confirmed by a monstrous panther, with its usual scream, springing from a tree, directly for the cow leading. He missed her, however, and disappeared in the brush. The frightened cows now started on a run, their terror increased by Nat's hallooing and shouting for somebody to bring a gun. The family heard him, and Elisha started, staggering under the weight of both the smooth bore and rifle. He met Nat at the bars in the fence, and Mrs. Foster and the girls taking charge of the cows, the boys returned to the woods and commenced to hunt for the panther. But although they went a long distance into the woods and were beyond the cow path, not a sign of a panther did they see. Giving it up at last, they turned their steps homeward. Darkness had now fallen upon them, and they had only the moon to lighten their path. As they approached the bars again, Nat espied what looked very much like a rock or boulder moving among the stones scattered about the fence and bars. "Hist," said he, "there's the painter," at the same time raising his rifle and firing. With one of its blood curdling screeches the panther bounded to the top of the wall. There it stood but an instant, crouching upon the stones, angrily lashing its yellow sides with its tail, its agile form dimly outlined by the feeble rays of the moon, showing the devil's own look in its eyes. Elisha was a lad of deliberate action, and probably if Nat had waited for him to shoot, one or both of them would have been seriously injured by the now furious animal. But Nat was not of the slow moving kind, but quick as a flash, as his conduct now showed; springing to his feet, for the rifle had kicked him over, as usual, he snatched the smooth bore from his brother's hands and sent its charge of buckshot between the glaring eyes of the panther, and with another scream and a mighty leap into the air, it fell dead.

It had evidently followed the fleeing cows and shouting boy to the edge of the forest, and there lurked about, only kept from attacking the cows by the women's voices, as they got them into their proper enclosure and prepared to milk them. The boys, not expecting to find it so near the cabin, had passed it as they went into the woods. And only Nat's eagle eye detected it on their return from the search in the woods.

One night the family was awakened by the violent squealing of the pigs, which for greater safety were kept in a sty near the cabin. Nat, without stopping for the ceremony of dressing, seized the rifle and made his way out into the night. There was a bright moon, and he instantly discovered an immense black bear making off with one of the half grown pigs in his embrace, the latter piercing the clear night air with its lusty squeals. How to shoot the bear without killing the pig at the same time was Nat's first thought. But as the bear was rapidly escaping, he dismissed this from his mind and started in pursuit, the tails of his tow shirt flying in the gentle breeze. Coming to within what he would call a "healthy distance," he fired. With a groan the bear fell in a heap, the pig underneath, and the sudden cessation of its agonized squeals told him that if he had not shot it, its life had certainly been crushed out by the weight of the bear. Bruin proved to be wounded in the shoulder. Rising on its hind legs it immediately showed fight. At this Nat, having no ammunition with him, shouted to the member of the family to bring him the powder horn and bullet pouch. The deliberate Elisha had stopped to don his trousers and load the smooth bore. He now appeared with that favorite fowling piece in his hands, accompanied by little Solomon carrying the powder and balls.

A grotesque scene met their eyes, and convulsions of laughter seized them. Elisha, with his characteristic manner, sat down on a log, and commenced to hug himself as a paroxysm of laughter laid hold of him, while Solomon shouted to the family to "come quick and see Nat and the bear dance." There was the bear, reared on its hind legs, bending over the body of poor pig, growling fiercely and pawing the air with its one good fore paw, endeavoring to land a blow at Nat; the latter was dancing about him, his bare legs flashing in the moonlight, giving the bear on occasional blow on the head with the butt of the rifle, or a poke in the ribs with the end of the barrel. The rear tail of his shirt was trailing on the ground behind him, fastened to the garment proper by a single shred, it having been nearly torn off by the bear's landing a blow on his rear as he careened around it crouching body. This kind of sport did not suit Nat; neither did the amusement he was affording his brothers, on account of his position and appearance soothe him. But he did not cease an instant to engage the bear's attention. He continued to parry with him as industriously as ever, while he shouted to Elisha to let the bear have the charge in his gun.

"Shoot 'em, 'Lish, shoot 'em, I tell you," said he. "Stop your laughin' and shoot 'em," he exclaimed, growing more excited as he dodged a blow aimed at him by the bear and gave the brute a savage poke in the side with the gun, which nearly pushed the animal over.

"Lo-lo-look out for your legs, Nat," exclaimed Elisha, "he'll claw em." And he went off into another fit of laughter, without apparently having heard Nat's appeal to him to shoot.

"Nat, if you don't look out, he'll tear your best shirt offen you," said little Solomon, as he danced about at a safe distance from the dancing bear and hopping youth.

"You shet up and gimme that powder," retorted Nat, now thoroughly disgusted with the conduct of his brothers.

"Well, come and get it then," said Solomon, holding it out at arm's length, cautiously keeping at a safe distance from the contesting bear and boy, "I ain't going to give him a chance to tear my shirt."

Nat seized the proffered horn, poured a charge into the gun, and, forgetting in his excitement to put in a ball, fired point blank into the bear's face.

"O-O-Oh!" shouted Elisha, "tha-tha-that only scorched his eyebrows," and he went off into another fit of laughter.

It was true that the charge of powder had scorched the bear's eyebrows; but it did more. It burned his nose, blinded his eyes, and greatly increased his fury. Dropping on his three legs (the fourth had been shattered by Nat's first shot) he limped blindly, but with wonderful rapidity towards the seated Elisha, who was again hugging himself and swaying his body back and forth, Nat's powder charge having tickled him so. But a shout of warning from Nat and his little brother, brought him to his senses. Ceasing his laughter, he looked up, and gazed almost directly in the wide open jaws of the enraged bear, as it was making towards him. Then for the first time, he realized that the struggle that had afforded them so much amusement, was of a really serious nature, and rousing himself to action, he seized the ever ready smooth bore, which until now had rested at his feet, and gallantly met the charge of the on coming bear. It was already almost upon him. Without putting the gun to his shoulder, he thrust the muzzle into the bear's mouth and fired the contents of the gun down its throat. With a growl, a snort and a wheeze from his lacerated windpipe, the poor beast gave up the gallant fight it had been maintaining, and laid down and died.

Although the family could ill-afford to lose the pig, yet they estimated that they got more meat from the bear's carcass, (which was a large one), than they would have gotten from the pig had they been enabled to fatten it. So baring the damage of Nat's tow shirt, the night's adventure was a clear gain.

The boys once caught an eagle in a trap set for wolves. The trap was fastened to a drag or small log, in order to allow a wolf caught in it to pull himself about a little. Often a wolf caught in a trap securely fastened to a tree or a log he could not move, would deliberately chew his foot off and thus make his escape. In order to avoid this, the boys always set their wolf traps fastened to a small billet of wood, which would admit of the animal's slow progress through the woods after being caught. They were always able to track and overtake him by means of the trail made by the drag.

The eagle caught was a large and powerful one, and would rise into the air the length of the chain fastened to the trap, even lifting from the ground one end of the small log to which it was fastened; but the weight was too great to admit of his flying away.

Nat was the one to discover the bird in the trap, and he immediately rushed into a close contest, intent on subduing and taking the eagle alive. He as quickly retreated, however, and it would be supposed a sadder and wiser boy. The eagle, with its one free foot, its beak and wings, gave him such a clawing, pecking and beating that, when he presented himself at the cabin to report the eagle in the trap, and secure assistance in capturing it, the family hardly knew him. His tow shirt had fared worse than in his memorable encounter with the bear. It was, in fact, nearly torn from his body. His trousers were a sight to behold; while blood streamed from his nose, and from numerous cuts and scratches on his face and shoulders. He staunched the flow of blood at the wash basin, while he related to the family his encounter with the eagle.

Meanwhile Elisha bustled about, procuring ropes, and ax, and the trusty smooth bore, in case they found it necessary to shoot the bird. Nat, having stopped the flow of blood, washed his face, pinned up his clothes with what was his ever ready fasteners, thorns, started with his brother to secure the bird. Having arrived, they decided after discussing the situation, that the free leg of the eagle must be first captured and bound to to the one in the trap. Nat accordingly formed a slip noose in one of the ropes, and again rushed in on the powerful bird. One would naturally think that his former treatment from it would have taught him a less. But it apparently had made no impression on his mind, though it had on his body. For a few moments he and the eagle were hopelessly mixed. Feathers filled the air; clothes were ripped afresh; the thorn pins flew in every direction, while the eagle screamed with rage and fury, and Nat yelled lustily, probably more from the same cause than from the hurts he was getting. At last he laid a firm hold on the free leg of the bird, but in the struggle he had dropped the rope. However, he would not let go, not he. He continued his tussle until he landed the bird on its back; then he shouted to Elisha to get a forked stick and pin its head to the ground. Elisha seized the ax and plunged into the brush to cut the desired article, but as usual in cases of excitement and hurry, he could not readily find a stick with the proper crotch. Meanwhile, Nat had unwarily released with one hand his grasp and reached out to get the rope lying near. Whereupon the eagle renewed its struggles. Again they fought, the bird sometimes on top, terribly beating the lad with its wings; the next instant Nat on top endeavoring to throw the bird down. But again he mastered it, and Elisha at last appearing with the stick, succeeded in fastening its head to the ground by placing the forks of the stick across its neck, thus effectively shutting off its wind. Then it was an easy matter to bind its legs, and a cord around its throat kept up the "shutting off" process on its windpipe; thus the bird was conveyed home and laid at the cabin door, admired by the whole family. The boys constructed a cage of poles and kept the bird captive the rest of the summer. Its leg, broken by the trap, soon healed and it grew quite tame, and would cackle and scream in the morning for its breakfast of fresh meat, which the boys, by their hunting, always had in abundance. They named the pet "Ol Put" in memory of Gen. Putman, with whose fame they were familiar.

Old Put was, of course, a great favorite with the whole family, but he soon became a troublesome one. He proved very destructive to their hens and chickens. The cunning bird would stand near the bars of his cage, his broken leg drawn up under his body, his eyes drooping and nearly closed, and to all appearances sound asleep. But let an unwary chick come within range of his beak, quick as a flash he would trust his head through the bars, seize the unfortunate fowl by the neck, and drawing it into his enclosure, quickly dispatch it. So Old Put was finally given his liberty. The boys particularly disliked to part with him, for they had fought too hard for his capture to let him go without regrets. But when the door of his cage was opened, the gladly availed himself of the opportunity to take his flight, and they watched him as he sailed away towards the mountains, finally becoming to them but a tiny speck against the blue sky.

But the liberation of Old Put was not the last seen of him, however one day early in the following spring, they observed an immense eagle hovering about their clearing, and soon discovered by his crooked leg it was Old Put. They were all delighted, and the boys rejoiced; but when he carried off a number of their barn yard fowls and two of their spring lambs, there were forced to pocket their sentiment and shoot him. Thus was the interesting career of Old Put brought to a melancholy and untimely end.

Every person has a romance in his life, and Nat's had its beginning during this period of his life, thought it did not culminate until he had attained man's estate.

We have spoken of "Billy Wilson," as the plain towns people called their aristocratic and Tory townsman; we have also spoken of the daughter of Mrs. Wilson, whom he sent to Boston to school. She was his only child, and the pride of his heart. During the periods she was at home, she in some way made the acquaintance of Nat, and formed a deep attachment for him. She was a year or two his senior, but as he was a strong and healthy lad, he became her constant companion and protector in her rambles and strolls in the woods and field for berries, acorns and nuts. He could climb the highest trees and go out on the most dangerous branches to shake down the nuts for her. While he knew the best berry patches and the choicest places to gather wild grapes and mandrakes. Little Mary was with Nat so much that her father became quite attached to the lad, and probably if his father had not been a patriot, would have made more of the boy. One time, after Mary had spent the winter and spring at school in Boston, she returned home with her mind filled with plans of berrying, nutting and rambling with Nat Foster. As soon as she arrived home, her first inquiry was in regard to Nat; and the next morning she put on a sunbonnet, took a splint basket on her arm, and called to see Mrs. Foster, incidentally to see if Nat could go berrying with her. Nat was glad to see, her of course, and it was readily arranged that he might accompany her to where there were some luscious blackberries, he had discovered only the day before.

Taking the rife, Nat started away with Mary at his side. She was full of news of her school life in Boston; and she entertained him with her stories and accounts of her life in Boston, until they had nearly covered the distance to the berry patch. Finally she began to question him in regard to his own school life, and was shocked and horrified to find that Nat could not even read. There were no schools maintained in the township, and the truth was, the children were growing up in ignorance. Little Mary had never discovered this defect in her admired friend. Summer after summer he had been playmate and companion, winning her respect and admiration by his feats of daring and skill, but she had never thought of Nat's mental accomplishments. For an instant she was shocked and grieved at this monstrous gap between her and her chosen friend. The a bright idea struck her active brain.

"Why Nat," said she, "Why don't you go to Boston to school?"

"Go to Boston to school!" exclaimed Nat; "Why how is a fellow going to get the money to pay?"

"Oh, I have it," answered Mary, "I'll ask my father to pay for you. He will, I know, for he like you, and thinks you will make a nice man."

Just then they rounded a bend in the path which brought them to the berry patch. But it also brought them face to face with an old she bear, with two cubs following. The were lumbering along the path directly toward the children. Mary screamed at the sight and clung to her boy protector.

Said Nat: "Mary, you run and I will stay and fight them off." But still she clung to her protector, and began to cry. Meanwhile the old bear had continued towards them, until she was but a few feet away. Having her cubs with her she undoubtedly acted more fierce than she would otherwise have done. She now sat upon her haunches and began to growl fiercely, so that even Nat began to be afraid. He kept his eye fastened on the bear, however, while he backed away, pushing his girl companion along behind him, telling her all the while to run. Finally she did flee, and with all the swiftness her young strength permitted. Then Nat began to back off more rapidly, when the old bear dropped on all fours again, and ambled towards him. When she again drew near him she sat upon her haunches again. Nat redoubled his efforts to back away, when again the bear dropped upon all fours and trotted nearer, then she sat up again. This sort of game was kept up quite a distance down the path, Nat being restrained from shooting by the fact that he had no ammunition with him, save the charge in his gun.

Finally in his backing off process, Nat struck his foot against a root, and came near falling in a heap. In saving himself, he took his eyes off the bear, and as he struggled about to regain his footing, she made a rush for him. He took aim as well as he could (for he knew this was his only chance) and fired, and then turned and ran as he never ran before; in fact, it would have been a hard matter for the bear, if she was so disposed, to overtake him.

Nat soon overtook his little friend, who was nearly dead from fright and hard running. He soothed her as best he could, and then accompanied her home. When they arrived, Mary insisted that he go in, and she told her father of his gallant conduct. Mr. Wilson listened and when she had finished said:

"Well, I always knew the lad was a brave one, but then his father is a rebel, and I have no use for such people. But see here, my lad," he continued, turning to Nat, "if you will promise me to become a Loyalist, I will send you to Boston to school, and make a gentleman of you>"

Schooling was what Nat wanted, and there was the very opportunity that he and Mary had been talking about. But the insinuation thrown upon his father, together with the proposition of his turning Loyalist roused his indignation.

"What," said he, "I am a Loyalist, and my father fighting for freedom? No! not for all the learning there is in Boston! If my dad is a rebel, then I'm one too." And with his face burning with wrath and indignation he stalked out of the house, without even stopping to bid Mary good bye. He went home and told his mother of his adventure, and his subsequent treatment at the hands of Mr. Wilson.

"Natty," said the good woman, "You have done right, and God will reward you for your good deeds, even if our fellow men will not," And with this sentiment, and his mother's kind words, Nat was entirely satisfied.

The next morning he and Elisha went to the berry patch and found the bear dead. Nat's one shot had done its work. They also found the half grown cubs of the dead bear contentedly eating berries in the neighboring berry patch. Securing these they spent the remainder of the day getting the pelts and carcasses home, and trying out the fat of the cubs.

Nat had no opportunity to see his little friend Mary again. For her father would not permit it; and in the fall they moved to Boston, so that little Mary Wilson was soon forgotten, until an incident in his after life served to bring her memory to him again, together with her Tory father's unkindness. But this will be given in its proper place.

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