"The result was, that over twenty of the Skinners were taken prisoners. Only half-a-dozen were killed by fire-arms. The lake was examined at sunrise, and fifteen bodies were drawn from its remorseless bosom. The remainder, McPherson among them, escaped." "That Nick Odell was nearly equal to old Nick himself in stratagems," said Wilson, when Smith had concluded. "It's a wonder the men didn't freeze to death under the snow," said Morton. "I think I should have been opposed to trying such a way of disposing of myself." "Oh! there 's no doubt about its keeping you warm," said old Harmar. "How can cold snow keep men warm?" enquired Thomas Jefferson Harmar. "I suppose," answered Higgins, "that it's much like blowing your warm breath on anything hot to cool it." As nobody seemed disposed to contradict this explanation, old Higgins took it for granted that he was correct; and Thomas Jefferson was satisfied. [Illustration: DEFEAT OF THE SKINNERS AT DEADMAN'S LAKE.] [Illustration: THE STORY OF THE HALF-BREED.] STORY OF THE HALF-BREED. "Now," said young Harmar, who, as a literary gentleman, was anxious to collect as many incidents of the Revolution as he could from these old men; "now, Mr. Higgins, you must oblige us by recalling something of your experience." "Ah!" replied Higgins, "if I could tell in words a small part of what I know of the war, I'm sure I could interest you." "We are not critical," said old Harmar. "Jackson may think of his bookish notions sometimes; but he knows what kind of old men we are. Narrate anything that comes uppermost." "Well," commenced Higgins, "I'll tell you about an adventure of a friend of mine, named Humphries, with a half-breed--that's horribly interesting--if I can only recollect it." And, after a short pause, to let his old memory bring up the incidents from the far past, Higgins told the following story of revenge. "In the country around Saratoga, when General Gates lay encamped there, lived a half-breed Indian, called Blonay. He was well known in the neighborhood as a fierce and outlawed character, who wandered and skulked from place to place, sometimes pretending to be for the Americans, and, at others, for the tories. He went anywhere, and did everything to serve his own ends; but his whole life, and all his actions, seemed centred in one darling object, and that was revenge. He had deeply and fearfully sworn never to rest until he had drawn the heart's blood of Humphries, a member of Morgan's corps, and his greatest enemy. They had been mortal foes from boyhood, and a blow Humphries had given Blonay had fixed their hatred for life. He had pursued him from place to place with untiring vigilance, and had watched, day after day, and month after month, for an opportunity to glut his revenge, but none offered.