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 VII

Early in the spring the Fosters began preparations for emigrating to New York State. Their possessions were reduced as much as possible, to facilitate traveling, which in those primitive times, was no small undertaking.

Their goods, together with their stock was sold at public auction, which was a great event for the town then, as it is still in many of our rural hamlets. All of the farming tools and implements, save a few hand tools, were also disposed of at auction. But as in those days more than one plow was seldom found on a single farm, and the harrowing was done with brush, the hay and grain harvested with "arm strong" mowers and reapers (scythe and cradles), there were not many implements to sell. Still the auction was a lively affair. Elisha and Nat were the envy of the other boys of the town, as they beheld them with their father bustling about the place, getting things ready, and leading up the stock for the bawling auctioneer to show his wit and exercise his lungs over. All of the guns, traps and snares that the boys had accumulated were retained. For they did not propose to go into the new country unprepared for allowing the chase, even though they might be handicapped for farming.

Mrs. Foster, woman life, had planned and arranged to take along enough of her household goods to load two or three carts, but her proceedings were vetoed by the men; and her stock, too, was reduced materially by placing such things as were not absolutely necessary, under the auctioneer's hammer; and although she demurred at first, she afterwards expressed herself as satisfied, when she found they had spared her tools for spinning and working up flax and wool.

At last the final day arrived. Yoking the oxen (which had been retained) to the lumbering two wheeled cart, they loaded their few possessions, found seats for the women and children, tied their one remaining cow to the rear end of the box and were ready.

To Nat had been assigned the honor of acting as driver of the ox team at the start. Proudly flourishing his whip, he gave the command to "gee up;" the patient, slow moving oxen leaned forward in their yokes, stepped deliberately off, and the journey to the Mohawk Valley and Adirondack Mountains was begun.

Probably Mrs. Foster alone, of all the family, felt, with any keenness, the pangs of regret at leaving the familiar place of such long and tender associations. If the rest experienced any emotions, they did not pause in their eagerness of anticipation, to entertain them. But to the mother it had been a home of many tender experiences; and stirring events, too, which left their impression on her retentive heart. There at the home they were leaving, all of her children had been born and reared, amid the sturdy struggles of a pioneer life, intensified by the heavy cloud of war which had hung particularly heavy over her home. Hence it was that with a sigh and genuine pang of silent distress, she turned in her seat in the cart, and took a last, lingering and farewell look at the dear old "home" on that bright spring morn.

The children felt no uneasiness, nor experienced any regrets at leaving the familiar surroundings. To them the move was a novelty which contained enough of the romantic to render starting the all absorbing feature of their young lives at that particular moment. They had no very serious thoughts or concerns for the future; while the past did not, as yet, present the tender and sentimental features it would in after years.

Mr. Foster was indifferent. He had roamed about too much during the last few years of his life to be moved to any feelings of emotion at changing his place of abode.

So it was that the mother alone of all the party possessed those serious thoughts and reveries, which come from such an event as was now happening. But her sigh of regret escaped unnoticed; and soon the joyful laughter of the children and the jovial conversation of the older boys and Mr. Foster cheered her naturally happy soul.

They journeyed by easy stages, camping by the roadside at night; a comfortable shelter of skins was rigged over the box of the cart for the women and children to repose under, while Elisha, Nat and Mr. Foster slept in fur robes on the ground under the shelter of the cart. The cow, which from its position behind the cart, necessarily followed with patience the slow moving vehicle day after day, supplied them with mils to accompany their simple repasts of corn bread, boiled venison or bear meat and roasted potatoes; all prepared by the camp fire.

Their route, necessarily, lay through a partially wild and at best but sparsely settled country. At night, their sleep was often disturbed by the howling wolf, or screaming panther, or by the worrying cattle, tugging at their fastenings, as their keen senses detected danger. When the danger was considered very great, one of the older boys of Mr. Foster would keep watch. The latter often spoke of Indians, and expressed surprise that the "red devils," as he called them, had not put in an appearance. But most of the Indians, at the close of the war of the Revolution, had withdrawn from New England and New York to Canada, and only an occasional band of hunters were to be seen. Nothing was seen of them by the Foster family until they reached the Hudson river.

They arrived at that noble stream just north of where the village of Lansingburg is now situated. All other streams they had encountered they were able to ford. But to cross here at that time, they were obliged to make a raft and ferry themselves and their possessions across. The construction of this raft consumed several days. And as they were engaged in falling timber for the making of it, they observed that they were being watched by some persons on the opposite shore. Who it was they could not imagine. There were no settlers who would care about their cutting trees, and the noble red man, if it was he, did not care for the timer. But that the watchers were Indians, and that they were watching him and his sons with no good intentions, Mr. Foster felt certain.

At last they were ready to trust themselves to their rudely constructed raft, and cross to the "land of Promise," which, if not actually "flowing with milk and Honey," was at least rich in the opportunities it would afford the family to develop, each in the direction of his individual tastes and likings.

They began early in the day to put their effects on the raft, but it was a slow and tedious task. The cart had been taken apart and carried on in sections, for when they attempted to wheel it on, it had stuck fast in the soft mud of the shore. Then followed the work of getting the cattle onto the floating crib; all was duly accomplished, however, and late in the afternoon they launched out upon the stream, which, at that time of the year, was high and turbulent. After two hours hard work in fighting the swift current, which carried them a mile down the stream, they at last brought their crazy raft safely to the opposite shore and moored it close to the bank, in a little bay. By that time the sun was nearly down.

As they swung their raft in by the shore, and here making it fast to nearby trees, Mr. Foster's quick eye detected an Indian watching their movements from behind a distant tree. It took him but a moment to discover two more skulking warriors behind different trees, watching them intently; and his suspicions of the last two days were confirmed. He said nothing to the rest, however, about the presence of the Indians, but hurried the work of landing. Everything was transferred to the shore, the car set up, the camp made and supper cooked before dark. Then having gathered his family together, he told them of the Indians he had seen, and apprised them of his fears of an attack from them that night. It was decided that the boys and Mr. Foster should take turns in keeping watch, so that all would be guarded against surprise. Commending them all to the protection of Almighty God, the father told them to go to sleep, while he kept watch until midnight, as he calculated that, if an attack was to be made, it would be before that hour.

He kept his weary and lonely vigil until long after midnight, and then, having heard nothing, he concluded that the real danger was past, and turned the watch over to the boys.

With yawns and expressions of disgust at being roused from their sound slumbers, Nat and Elisha got up and took their father's place; while he crept into the warm place they had vacated. The air was chilly, and the night as black as ink. Seeking one of the cart wheels, they boys spread a wolf robe on the ground, and seating themselves upon it, with their back supported by the upright wheel, prepared to watch the night out.

As we might have suspected, Elisha had the old smooth bore by his side, and Nat, with characteristic caution, sat with his rifle across his knees, his keen eyes gazing into the darkness and his quick ear strained to catch the least suspicious sound.

Their teeth soon commenced to chatter from the cold, and Elisha declared that he must be allowed to roll himself in the wolf robe on which they were seated, or he would certainly freeze to death. So Nat obligingly arose and paced up and down the camp, while the easy going Elisha wrapped himself in the wolf robe, and, naturally enough, was soon sound asleep.

But no thought of giving away to sleep entered the mind of Nat. Grasping with firmer grip the stock of his rifle, he paced his little beat with careful step, like and old soldier on guard. It was a trying place for a lad of sixteen, even if he had been brought up in the pioneer life. No sound broke the oppressive stillness. Not even a cricket's chirrup or an owl's hoot disturbed the silence that prevailed. It would have been a relief to hear a wolf howl, or even a panther scream. For an hour Nat thus kept pacing his beat, straining every nerve to catch any possible sign of an approaching foe.

Suddenly the stillness was broken by the sharp sound of s snapping twig. He stopped as suddenly,and remained as motionless as if frozen to the ground; but not from fear or fright. For three full minutes he waited and listened with all his powers, but not another sound did he hear, all was as still as before. Yet he knew that the twig was broken by some approaching man or beast; which he could not tell.

Finally he detected a very slight rustling in the bushes a few yards from the camp. He recognized at once the movements of as man or men approaching with great caution through the underbrush. Without stopping to rouse his father or brother, he raised his rifle and fired into the bushes, in the direction from whence the sound came; and springing to the side of the slumbering Elisha, he snatched up the smooth bore and sent its contents into the bushes before that drowsy youth was fairly awake.

Instantly all was commotion in the little camp. The cattle snorted and struggled at their fastenings, while the women cried out in alarm, and little Sybil, in the distress of being thus rudely awakened, and also fear of the darkness, commenced to cry. Elisha sat up, and mildly asked in a hoarse whisper what was the matter. Mr. Foster sprang to the side of his brave son, and asked if it was "Injuns." In a brief and hurried whisper, Nat explained to his father what he had heard in the bushes, and together, with cocked rifles, they waited for more manifestations of the lurking foe. But farther than a great trampling and a snapping and cracking of the twigs and bushes, immediately after Nat fired his charges, they heard nothing. Whether the foe was still concealed in the underbrush, only waiting for them to relax their vigilance before advancing, or whether he was killed, or had retreated, they were unable to even guess.

The remainder of the night was spent with the combined watchings of Mr. Foster and Nat, and even Elisha, who had been somewhat frightened and thoroughly awakened by his brother's rapid shots, now found no difficulty in keeping awake. The few remaining hours of the night passed without incident. And as the gray dawn began to manifest itself, they breathed easier, waiting until broad daylight, however, before they ventured to stir about or rouse the rest of the family. Upon going a few yards into the bushes, they found them trampled and broken. Along the trail, which had evidently been made by their nocturnal visitors in their retreat, there was a stream of blood, deeply dyeing the leaves and bushes, as far as they followed it. It gave unmistakable evidence that at least one of the party, if not more, had been shot and borne away by companions. One or both of Nat's shots had told. He had drawn his first blood from an Indian, if indeed he had not killed the warrior, for the blood bespattered leaves and gory trail told plainly that it was the life blood of the wounded savage that was being shed.

"I reckon, Nat," said Mr. Foster, as he examined the bloody trail, "that you made the daylight shine through one or two of the red devils."

"But how could that be, dad? said the skeptical Elisha, "Nat shot 'em in the dark."

"Humph," said Mr. Foster, contemptuously "the daylight is a shin' through 'em by this time anyhow, if that gore speaks for anything. I don't think this is a very healthy place for us to be a sojourning in so very long either," he continued, "the critters might come back and get revenge on us. We'd better be gotten' out."

So a hasty breakfast was cooked and eaten and the cattle brought from their browsing in the woods before they had half finished their morning's feed. And before the sun had begun to climb the heavens, they left the place.

In crossing the Hudson, the Fosters had finished the hardest part of their journey. They were now entering the famous valley in which they intended to settle. Mr. Foster had determined upon no particular place for their location, but as they journeyed on towards the valley they received wonderful accounts from the settlers along their route, of the village of Johnstown, which had been settled before the war by Sir William Johnson. As Mr. Foster had also heard something of it while in these parts early in the war, he resolved to settle in that locality. Although it was not in the valley where he had at first intended to locate, he decided that Johnstown and its vicinity, being advantageous for hunting and fishing, as well as farming, would be better than the valley. So turning their course to the northwest, they pushed on until they came to the famous fish house built by Sir William, and here they decided to settle.

Again Mr. Foster erected a little cabin of logs, for his new home, although it was not destined to serve as long as the one he had built so many years before in New Hampshire. Having the sturdy strength of his two oldest sons to assist him this time,and that of his neighbors as well, the cabin was built in a much shorter time.

A wonderfully fraternal spirit prevailed among the settlers of those early times, and it was particularly predominant about Johnstown. Sir William himself set the example in its early days, when he founded the town, and the settlers imbibed the spirit. So that whenever a new family came to those parts to build a home, a "bee" was always inaugurated and a "log rolling" was had and a good serviceable cabin was built in a few days. With some further details, in the way of closing the chinks between the logs, the construction of a fireplace and chimney, and the hanging of the door, the house was all ready for occupancy. In rare cases, I have heard of such little matters as building a chimney and hanging a door being omitted entirely, smoke escaping through a hole in the roof and a deer's hide or other skin, covering the opening in the wall, which answered for a door. Of course there are exceptional instances, and settlers who were obliged to forego such necessary things as chimneys and doors must have been in very straitened circumstances. The new cabin of the Fosters, I am told was comfortable finished, with one room on the ground, and a sleeping place above, under the roof. It also had a chimney and door.

Such log cabins, with their two simple apartments, were the homes of most of our forefathers. In such humble homes many of the present Americans' immediate ancestors were born and reared. The families were nearly always large, many including members who have become prominent in our country's history.

The Fosters had lived in their new home less than two months ere destruction came to it from the hand of the savage Indian, together with the capture of Zilpha. It happened one afternoon when all the family, Excepting Zilpha and Nat, were away to a bee being held for the benefit of another new family just arrived in the neighborhood. The Indians probably knowing this, undoubtedly laid their plans accordingly, and raided the Foster dwelling when they expected to find no one but women or children about. Early in the afternoon Zilpha was engaged in washing the dishes after the noonday meal of herself and brother. Her work was on a bench under the shade of a tree just outside the cabin. Nat was inside engaged in cleaning some traps.

After lurking about in the bushes at the edge of the woods and seeing no one about but the girl, the Indians stealthily made their way towards the cabin, and coming up behind the unsuspecting maiden, who was blithely humming a little air, they seized and gagged her before she could make a single outcry of alarm. The sudden cessation of her singing, however, attracted Nat's attention, and peering out of the cabin door, he was horrified to see his sister in the clutches of the red men. It took the lad but an instant to take in the situation. His first impulse was to rush out, or open fire from the cabin, and attempt to slay single handed all of his sister's captors. And no doubt, if there had been a rifle in the cabin, he would have rashly undertaken it. But the only fire arm there was the old smooth bore, and even that piece, though it had often done him and his brother good service in emergencies, would not do to wipe out the ten or more Indians in the party.

Here, Nat's quick perception of an awkward situation and the very best mode of action, which he ever afterwards manifested, was shown. The party was too strong for him to hope in any way to overcome single handed. His only hope was in remaining undiscovered and, watching his chance, escape and warn the settlers at the bee. All this flashed through his mind in an instant, and as he saw the Indians turn and come towards the cabin, he put it in action. At his feet was a trap door leading into a simple hole, dug under the cabin floor to serve as a cellar.

Lifting the door, he dropped into the hole and noiselessly closed it after him, just as the Indian in the lead stepped upon the threshold. Then followed a half hour of agony and suspense. The Indians ransacked the cabin and searched even the loft, talking constantly in their own language. Every moment he feared they would notice the trap door and, investigating the hole underneath, discover him. But it escaped their observation.

The pleadings of his sister, as they ungagged her, beseeching them to let her go, nearly drove him frantic, and he could hardly restrain himself from leaping forth from his hiding place and throwing himself upon the Indians in a wild attempt to deliver her. But he restrained himself and remained silent. He hardly dared to breathe as the Indians trampled over his head and paused at the trap door as if to lift it. At last they departed, taking the weeping girl with them. Nat cautiously lifted the door a trifle and looked out. The coast was clear, and he crawled up, very weak and shaky from his cramped position and restrained excitement. As he expected, he found that the Indians had fired the cabin before taking their departure, having stated the fire in the loft, under the roof. It was a roaring furnace before he dared leave.

He watched the Indians as they crossed the clearing and made for the woods. At last they disappeared in the foliage, and then, with a bound, he was out of the doomed cabin and speeding away like a deer to warn the settlers. He ran with terrific speed the whole of the two miles, and was so winded when he arrived that he could hardly speak. But he managed to gasp out "Indians," "Cabin afire," and "Zilpha." The settler instantly guessed the whole affair and the men began hastily to prepare for pursuit. As but few of the men had brought their guns (danger from the Indians being regarded as over) some little time was consumed in sending fleet boys to the various homes after these very necessary weapons.

Mr. Foster and Elisha had brought their rifles, thinking they might have an opportunity to shoot some game, and the old man could hardly be restrained from starting off alone in pursuit of the Indians.

In a quarter of an hour's time all were ready. Nat had sufficiently recovered his wind to head the party, and borrowing a gun started off again on a dog trot, which he kept up, setting the pace for the party until they arrived at the site of the Foster home, Nothing was left of the cabin but a smoldering heap of ashes. As they came in sight of it, young Nat's passions rose.

"Here," he exclaimed, "Is my life's work. I'll hate the red devils worse'n dad, and I'll shoot 'em every chance I git."

This passionate expression arose from the thought of his beautiful sister in the possession of the dusky red men. Although during his life he shot many Indians, yet he never seemed to harbor a particularly bitter feeling against them, nor made shooting them his life's work. No doubt this and other experiences, together with his father's instructions upon the subject, made him quite undervalue the life of an American Indians, and caused him to shoot them without hesitation, whenever they threatened his life or trespassed upon his rights. But for a ferocious and blood thirsty character, we will have to look elsewhere; for, as I will endeavor to show in following his life, he was possessed of a naturally kind disposition. He was liberal, even to the Indians, against whom he was now swearing eternal vengeance.

The pursuing party paused but a moment at the site of the devastated home, and then Nat led the way to the place where the Indians had entered the woods. He took the lead himself, and assumed the responsibility of detecting and following their trail. At that early age the lad had already gained a reputation for keenness in following trails of deer, moose and other game. And now, as the set out for the first time on a genuine Indian's trail, his hunter's instinct was quickened by love for his sister, and hatred for her dusky captors. So there was nothing strange in his taking the lead over older and more experienced men in the party, and unhesitatingly and unerringly following the faint and half blind trail, over hills, across streams and through marshes. The Indians had taken pains to cover their trail as much as possible, but they could not conceal it from the eagle eye of that lad whose instinct was sharpened by affection, and whose heart throbbed with a brother's love, while it also beat with hatred for their cowardly, detestable conduct.

All the afternoon they followed the trail over the hills and through glens. At first they thought the Indians were carrying Zilpha, for no imprint of a shoe could be found on the trail. But after they had gone several times, and had come to a little stream where they stopped to drink one of the party found her shoes concealed in the ledge of a rock. Then they knew that the brutal savages were compelling her to walk with unprotected feet in order that she might not leave any mark of her leather shoes. Their belief in this theory was confirmed, as some miles farther on, they found blood stains plainly made by foot prints on some rocks the Indians had gone over. They undoubtedly came from the bruised and bleeding feet of the fair Zilpha. Twice they found pieces of the homespun dress she wore clinging to the bushes.

As the afternoon advanced, they observed that the trail was growing fresher, and they had good hopes of overtaking and surprising the Indians. Nat finally proposed that they stop and let him climb a tree to see if he could discover any signs of their camp fire. To this proposition they all agreed, and pausing, they watched Nat as he made his way to a little knoll in which stood a tall birch tree. He ascended as readily, if not as rapidly as a squirrel.

His position at the top commanded a fine view of the surrounding country. To the south lay the uneven land over which they had come, and to the north was a gentle valley, through which there evidently flowed a small creek. Beyond the valley stretched the broken and hazy mountains, the refuge of the Indians. The trees of the forest presented, in every direction, and unbroken bank of green foliage. From the center of the valley, less than two miles away, Nat observed a thin circle of smoke ascending from the tree tops, evidently coming from a very small fire. It was so faint that an unpracticed eye would not have noticed it. It undoubtedly marked the location of the Indians' camp, who were evidently preparing their supper from a very small fire, in order to make as little smoke as possible.

Sliding down from his perch, Nat reported his observations and his opinion, to which they all agreed. The best mode of advancing upon the Indians was then discussed. It was thought that the Indians, fearing pursuit, would not stop long at their present location, but would push on as soon as they ahd eaten their supper in order to reach the mountains. So it was decided to advance at once to within a quarter of a mile of their camp and then send scouts forward to reconnoiter. If they saw that the Indians were making no preparations for remaining during the night, they would attack them at once. But if, on the contrary, there was evidence of their remaining, they would wait until it was dark and the Indians asleep, when the chances of success would be greater.

They accordingly went carefully forward until they came to what they judged was a quarter of a mile from the creek where the Indians' camp must be, then they stopped and Nat and his father went forward to look over the ground.

They came up, in the underbrush, to the very edge of the bubbling brook, with the Indians' camp directly opposite them, on the other bank. The warriors were seated on the ground before a tiny fire of sticks, eating some broiled venison and parched corn. Zilpha was bound to a tree a short distance away, but where the Indians could watch her.

Father and son embraced each other as they beheld the girl still alive, though she was in a pitiable condition. Her hair was disheveled, and her dress in tatters, while her stockings had been completely worn out and torn off by the rocks and bushes. Her feet were cut and bleeding.

How to get Zilpha out of the clutches of these fiends was the question. If they were to surprise them without success, the first thing her captors would do would be to kill her. Strategy alone would be successful.

The Indians were making no preparations for the night, evidently intending to start on their journey again as soon as they had finished their meal. So what was to be done must be done quickly. Here it was that the experience Mr. Foster had had in the war came to his aid.

The Indians' Fire was in an opening in the woods and brush, a few yards from the bank of the creek flowing from west to east. The Indians themselves were seated in a semicircle around the fire, facing the stream, their back to the north. Zilpha was bound to a tree by the bank of the stream at their left. The old soldier immediately resolved to send a detachment of his party around to the west of the camp and have them come up and fire upon the Indians from the northwest, and on their rear. At the first volley the Indians, not disabled, would immediately seize their rifles and turn to open fire on the attacking party, thus giving the party on the south an opportunity to sally forth, discharge their pieces, and recover the girl. An exceedingly good bit of generalship on a small scale. Mr. Foster repeated these plans to Nat and then dispatched his boy to the waiting ones. He gave Nat the responsibility of leading the flanking party, while he was to send Elisha with the others to him.

Nat hastened away and the old man was left alone. Only for a few moments, however, as he was quickly joined by the men Nat had sent him. Together they waited in silence, communicating only by signs or whispers, ready to spring from their hiding place as soon as Nat's party engaged the Indians' attention from the rear. In a short time Mr. Foster's eye, though dimmed, caught the gleam of the polished barrel of a rifle in the hands of one of the flanking party in the bushes away to the rear of the unsuspecting Indians. The latter, by this time, had finished eating and were already beginning to tighten up their belts preparatory to resuming their journey.

Signaling to his companions, Mr. Foster cocked his rifle and all prepared to spring from their covert. Suddenly a sheet of flame shot out from the bushes behind the seated Indians, and the reports of six rifles rang upon the air. Four of the Indians never rose from the ground. Those who were left alive sprang to their feet with rifles poised; but before they could fire, Mr. Foster and his men were out of the thicket with a yell, discharging their pieces at the Indians as they rushed towards the bound and now struggling girl. This volley left but five of the Indians alive, and as Nat and his party rushed into view with a whop and a yell, they turned and ran into the brush.

The father and brothers rushed simultaneously towards Zilpha. Mr. Foster was so overjoyed that he could only fall on his daughter's neck and week. But Nat quickly cut the thongs which bound her, and tenderly kissing her, said: "You see, sis I didn't sneak into that hole for nothing, did I?"

Night was coming on and the party must make haste back tot eh settlements. Gathering up the rifles and implements of the dead Indians, they started. They had brought the shoes of the captive, and, after bathing her feet, she put them on and stood the long tramp to the settlement very well. They reached it long after dark, but found all the settlers waiting anxiously for them; and great was the rejoicing at the return of the fair Zilpha, who, for her grace of manners and beauty of countenance, was already a favorite in the settlement.

The Foster home was soon rebuilt, and as before, on the edge of the forests. Not even this serious occurrence could scare the hardy old soldier or his brave family away. They were never again molested by the Indians, but their days spent in peace and prosperity.

The only other melancholy feature of this raid by the Indians was the destruction of the very famous old smooth bore rifle. Elisha particularly mourned its loss; to him it had been a constant companion, and for whom it had frequently done invaluable service in delivering him from great persona danger at the last extremity. The old fowling piece, as I have mentioned, was the only firearm in the cabin at the time the Indians made their raid, and they had either overlooked it, or did not consider it worth carrying away. Only it warped and twisted barrel was found in the ashes of the home. Thus lamentably ended the career of the famous old gun, which had figured so conspicuously in the early history of the boys.

The residence of the Foster family at Johnstown marked the development of the boys and girls into men and women, and the addition of four children to the household. The following children were born after the family settled at Johnstown, or more properly the Fish House. Elihu in 1784, Polly in 1788, Lydia in 1791, and Shubal in 1795. The last named son afterwards figured in several adventures with his brother Nat. Zilpha's hand was won by a gallant swain of the neighborhood, and Elisha's heart was smitten by a fair daughter of the settlement. Her he married.

This "stepping off" of his brother made Nat feel rather blue at first. But as their hunting and trapping excursions were to be continued as before, he expressed himself as satisfied.

Thus was Nat matured under the sturdy discipline, yet free life of a hunter and trapper. He seldom allowed a month to go by without taking his gun and dog and going for a tramp of two or three days in the wilderness in pursuit of game. Farming was always irksome to him, though he never neglected to help his father with the farm work, particularly during seed time and harvest. He never neglected his own farm when he came to possess one, but as soon as fall and winter approached he would bring forth his traps and snares, and rubbing off the coat of tallow that had been put on in the spring to keep them from rusting, he laid out and carried on his work for the winter. Many and varied were his experiences during the years spent under the paternal roof at Johnstown.

But realizing that I must omit many details of his interesting life, let me pass on to the time when he reached man's estate.

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