"Well, man, one reason is, because you're no province soldiers at all, being in the direct pay and service of the King, like ourselves. And then you're a braw set of men, and ken this fighting in the woods a deal better than we do, and we know it. But the provincials are gawks from country towns, without discipline, and with no more knowledge of the woods than we have." "But Edmund and I are from a town like them." "You've keppit gude company, since you've been with the Rangers, and have been long enough with them to look and act like the rest of them. One would take you for hunters and woodsmen." "But the provincials were the last to leave the field at Ticonderoga." "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. [Sidenote: 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." As we came nearer, we saw that he was almost naked. We pulled toward the shore, and beheld a pitiful, haggard fellow, with nothing on him but a pair of ragged breeches and a tattered shirt. We were about to ask him some questions, when he exclaimed:-- "B-B-Ben and Edmund, and 'B-Bijah Thompson too, by gum! An-An-And ain't I glad to see you?" "Amos Locke! And we're glad to see you, too. Where have you been?" "B-Been? I've been in h-hell. Say, have you got anything to eat? I'm starved."