Autumn, with him, was the season for rambling and hunting to lay in his winter store of furs and provisions, and he prepared for a hunting excursion up the Cherry Valley Creek. The next morning, when the first rays of light appeared in the east, he was seen to emerge from his cabin with a knapsack of provisions on his back, a bundle of traps thrown over his shoulder, powder-horn and bullet-pouch by his side, and his trusty gun in his hand. Thus equipped, he took an eastward course for the Cherry Valley Creek. At the head of that creek was the nearest settlement, where he sometimes went to dispose of his furs and purchase stores and ammunition, distant from his home about twenty-seven miles. As soon as he reached the mouth of the stream, which is a tributary of the Susquehanna, he began to reconnoitre the stream, and set his traps wherever signs appeared of beaver, animated with the prospect of a rich harvest of furs and venison. He had not proceeded far before he saw a fine buck, which had come to the creek to drink. He instantly raised his trusty gun to his face. A flash and report, and the noble animal fell dead upon the bank of the stream. The day had now far advanced, and he drew his knife from its sheath and dressed his venison with dispatch. He then hung up three of the quarters upon the trees, cutting off a limb to form a hook on which it would hang safely from the wolves that were nightly prowling along the stream. He then took the remaining quarter and wrapped it up in the skin of the buck, retired into a thick, dark swamp that lay near the stream, until he reached a large, spreading hemlock, that afforded a convenient resting-place at its root. Here, in this dense thicket, he built a small fire, examined his trusty gun, and laid down to rest. He afterward said he used every caution, for he had three enemies upon his track--the panther, the wolf and the red man. The night seemed to pass away quietly, excepting the howling of a wolf occasionally upon a distant hill, which gave him no uneasiness. Rosy morn soon appeared, and he could see the sun send his blush upon the highest hills, from his camping-ground in the swamp. He then prepared his breakfast, and feasted on the loin of the buck that he had killed the day previous. Emerging from the swamp, he intended to examine his traps, and then take the skin of the buck and the choicest part of the venison to his family. In this calculation he was sadly disappointed; for, as he proceeded along a path near the stream, suddenly three Indian warriors appeared in the path before him. He walked directly up to the party and said, "Good morning, brothers." They returned the compliment by saying, "Good morning, brother." One of the party said, "Let me see your gun." He handed it out. The Indian took from his pocket a knife and turned back the screws that held the lock, and then took the lock and put it in his pocket, handing the gun back to Mayall, informing him that he must go with them.