262 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 5, 1901. 
♦ 
In the I Ranger Service. 
n, — Major Rogers. 
! BY ROWLAND E. ROBINSON. 
For some days succeeding this interview, I went wan- 
dering in the most sequestered woods, carrying my rifle, 
indeed, but with no great zest for game, for I was puz- 
zling myself with the question of what to do. Many 
were the answers, but no one seemed the best, though 
of them all, the idea of making a settlement in the North- 
ern wilderness was most to my liking. It promised the 
surest foundation of a home and the material prosperity 
that we New Englanders are accused of coveting no less 
than our spiritual welfare. Having established a home, 
there would be better chance of persuading Mercy to 
join me in it, and, as for solitude and hardship that must 
be endured in gaining it, I was not averse to the one 
while we two must live apart, and I must face the other, 
whether I chose the loneliness of the wilderness, either 
as settler or fur-trapper, or the hazards of war, or any 
vocation that was open to such as me. 
Ttius pondering, I roamed the woods without much 
purpose, half in a dream, out of which I was more than 
once startled by the fancied sound of Mercy's sweet voice 
calling me from far away, always distant, no matter how 
I strove to approach it, till proved outright to be only 
one of the mysterious voices of the forest that is so often 
heard, but never ti-aced to its cause, which may be but 
fancy after all. I returned from these daily excursions 
with so little to show for them that my aunt viewed me 
with less favor than ever. I had further proof than her 
sour looks gave when I overheard her telling my uncle: 
"Paul never was good for nothin' but huntin' and fish- 
in', and now he's lost his gift for thern, or got too lazy 
to use it. We must set the good-for-nothin' adrift, Jona- 
than; we've done our duty in raisin' of him, and there 
can't be more asked of us." 
"Yes." he assented; "I hate to, for he's my brother's 
boy. but T don't see no other way. He must go and cut 
his own fodder." 
"You shall be saved that trouble, good people," said 
I to myself, more than ever determined to hasten my 
departure. Yet I was put upon my mettle to prove tliat 
I had not lost the skill in which I took much pride, and 
so set forth next morning for one more day's hunting 
before taking leave of my kinsfolk. 
The bright, cool September day was all that a hunter 
could wish and game as plenty, so that when, toward 
noon, I came out upon the highway where it ran for some 
distance through the woods, half a dozen fine, fat par- 
tridges were hanging at my belt. Caring not enough for 
more to take the trouble of looking further, I took my 
way homeward. At a turn of the road a fine cock par- 
tridge strutted into it twenty rods before me, just as I 
noticed hoof-beats close behind me. I whistled, and the 
bird stopped midway in the path, with head lifted high, 
ruff and tail full spread. In the same instant the rifle 
was at my shoulder and the trigger pulled with a quick 
aim, before the coming horseman should alarm the game, 
and the proud cock was beating the earth in his death 
struggle, his neck half-severed at the ruff. 
"A right good shot!" said a voice of hearty approval 
close behind me, and, looking over my shoulder, I saw a 
tall, swarthy man attentively regarding me as he easily 
sat on the spirited horse that he now reined close be- 
side me. 
"No great of a shot, sir," I answered modestly, filling 
my horn charger and emptying it into the rifle. 
"I'll be bound it's a better one than you often make," 
he said, in a bantering way, which roused my pride a 
little, so I pointed to the birds at my belt, each with its 
head half or quite cut off by balls, and said: 
"Here are six more of the same sort." 
His eyes fell to them a moment from watching the 
loading of my rifle, returning to it again till I had rammed 
4own the patched ball, and slipped the rod into the 
pipes. 
"For how many shots?" 
"Six," I answered. 
"H-m-m."' That was his comment in a tone that im- 
plied doubt and nettled me somewhat, and having primed 
my piece, I took more time to regard him. In spite of 
my pique, I could not help liking his looks. 
Though the keen, dark eyes that seemed to be noting 
everything without dwelling more than a moment on any- 
thing showed that they could blaze with fierce fire on 
occasion, they shone -v.'ith a pleasant light now, and his 
brown, weathered face wore a winning smile. He carried 
no arms, but was of such a bearing that I was sure the 
ordinary dress of a traveler poorly disguised a soldier, 
and no common one at that. 
"Let me see you put a bullet in the white spot on the 
beech tree at the right of the road, the spot at the height 
of your head, and I'll own you're a marksman," he said, 
only indicating the direction with a nod, but my eye 
caught the mark at once, and stepping a little before 
him, I raised my firelock. 
"Look out!" he cried, sharply. "It's an Indian, and if 
you don't kill him, he'll kill you!" but he did not stir 
my aim, and I fired as the heelplate was set to my shoul- 
der. "You may be a marksman, but you're no bush 
fighter, to empty your gun with a stranger in your rear," 
he said, chuckling a little. 
"But you have no arms." I said, rather chapfallen at 
this, "and we are on even terms now." 
"Don't be too sure of that," he said, whipping out a 
pistol from hi? pocket and displaying it. 
"I'm not afraid of such a popgun," I answered, with 
more hraverv in my tongue than in my heart, 
"So? It "may be more dangerous than you ihink," 
and with the words he blazed away, apparently without 
aim, at a patch of moss on a near tree trunk, and the 
dropping shreds of moss proved that the mark was truly 
hit. 
"Well, if T Was twice mistaken, I had no reason to be 
on my guard against yjau, sir," I said, beginning to re- 
load my rifle. _ • . , • 
"There you may be mistaken again," he said, tucking 
the pjstol Hndcr his arm, and he poured a charge of pow- 
der into his palm, and from that into the barrel, clapped 
a patched ball atop of it and rammed it home; primed the 
deadly little weapon, and thrust it back in his pocket, all 
in ^ less time than I am writing it. 
"But let us examine your target; don't forget your 
bird." 
I walked on beside his horse till we came to where the 
partridge was lying, which I picked up and offered him. 
"Will you have it for your supper, sir?" 
"With all my heart, if you can spare it;" and I assured 
hirn that I had enough without it. 
"Thank you, and it was a neat shot," said he, examin- 
ing the severed neck and thumping the plump breast. 
"One good turn calls for another; and will you be good 
enough to give me a strip of wickopee bark near the 
beech we just passed!" 
There it was, sure enough, though I had not seen it, 
for all it was on my side of the road, and I could not help 
remarking how keen his sight was for every trivial ob- 
ject. 
"In our trade we have to keep our eyes open to keep 
the hair on our heads," he said, as he tied the partridge 
to his saddle-bow with the bark thong. And that wick- 
opee bush might not be such a small thing, either. It 
Avould serve to tie your hands if you were my prisoner, as 
you might have been if I had minded to have you." 
"I'm not sure of that." I said. 
"Why not, when your gun was empty, and my pistol 
in my hand, or even now?" He stooped suddenly and 
snatched the rifle from my shoulder, holding it aloft and 
smiling down upon me, starting aloof, abashed, and half 
angry, but not alarmed when I saw no evil intent in his 
Ifiughing eyes. 
"There, take your gun," he said, handing it to me after 
a moment, "and have better care of it. I was only teach- 
ing you a lesson that may serve you some time if you 
ever take to mv trade." 
"That I don't think I will," I replied, hotly, "for I 
doubt if it is an honest one," whereat he laughed and said: 
"We'l, T have His Majesty's commission to practice 
it. But here's your target with the bullet nigh the cen- 
ter. A very pretty shot, upon my word. You have a 
quick eye and a steady hand — gifts that you ought to be 
using in the service of your king and country, rather 
than wasting them here." His manner was quite changed 
and he v;as speaking very seriously. Then he asked me 
about, my family and affairs, and when I told him that I 
had no near kin, npr any business, he broke out very 
earnestly: 
"Then enlist in the Rangers. It's a noble service, far 
better than serving in the regulars, or in the rabble of 
the militia that you are like to be called into any day. 
Eveiy man in it has to use his wits, and depend more on 
himself than on his fellows. It's a Ranger's duty to obey 
orders, as it is every soldier's, but in active service it is 
every man for himself, whether the devil takes the hind- 
most or the foremost. It's a free, noble service, compared 
with any other soldiering, and the usefulest in all the 
army, and there's a grand chance of promotion for a 
smart young fellow like you. Then the pay is fair, and 
a Ranger ha? the first chance of gathering booty and 
taking scalps " 
I could not forbear a shudder at the cool way in which 
he spoke of so barbarous a means of increasing one's 
gains; and. though I said nothing, I detennined it should 
never be employed by me. With all that he had said, and 
much more that he continued to say in praise of this 
service, I was fast becoming persuaded to enter it. 
"Is it Rogers" corps of Rangers?" I asked, and he 
nodded, adding, 
"It's the only one of consequence." 
"The only one I'd care to join," said I. "I've heard 
much of that brave leader, and would be prouder to fol- 
low him than any other; I'd give much to set eyes on 
him." 
"That you shall do this day, if you'll come to the tav- 
ern in the village yonder, for I expect him to dine off 
this partridge with me." 
"Then you shall have another," I cried, loosening a 
bird from my belt. 
"No," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, and an odd 
smile. "One will be enough. He is a light feeder, like 
myself. You will come at 2 o'clock? And 3'ou will en- 
list, I am sure. It's a -service to make a young fellow's 
sweetheart proud of him. Bid her good-bye and go on 
with us in the morning." 
With that he put spurs to his horse and clattered down 
the road out of my sight, leaving me in a daze with the 
consciousness that I was as good as enlisted; for, some- 
liow, this recruiting officer seemed to have got a hold 
of me that was not to be shaken off. And why should 
I iiot take this chance of making a beginning in life? 
It was only for my sweetheart's sake that I hesitated, biit 
a little sound reasoning would reconcile her to this 
choice. 
My sunt regarded me with more favor than she had 
done of late when I brought in the partridges, and said, 
almost kindly: 
"Ah, that's something like. Paul, and will make us. a 
proper good dinner." 
"Make the most of 'em, Aunt Becky," said I, setting 
about cleaning my rifle with uncommon care; "for they're 
the last I will fetch you; I'm going to leave you." 
"Sakes alive!" she cried, in surprise, but not ill-pleased. 
"And where might you be going?" 
"To the army," 1 answered, as proudly as if I were 
already a soldier. 
"To the army, boy! Sakes alive, you'll be killed. But 
.it's a good thing to serve your king, and^ we must all 
die some way." 
Making, the most of this cold comfort and as cold a 
bite of the left-over dinner, I made my way to the tav- 
ern, where I found my new acquaintance, Avho pressed 
me to dine with him, and would not accept my basliful 
refus.-ils. There were but two plates laid, and between 
them the smoking, savory partridge, to my hungry eyes 
looking handsomer in his brown skin than he had in his 
fine feathers, , v ■ 
"Hasn't Major Rogers come yet? I asked, and, bow- 
ing gravely, he said: 
^'Permit me to introduce him," and then began to 
laugh, as I stared stupidly at him, for a moment not 
comprehending that the noted leader of the Rangers was 
before me. 
Though he was a person of more consequence than 
any one I had ever met, he was as compatlioftiable is if 
I were his equal, and soon put me at ease, making intri- 
cate inquiry concerning my iaftairs and entertaining me 
with accounts of his own adventures, and the tricks of 
bush-ranging, til! I was fully of a mind to take a share 
of the first and become a learner of the last — a determina- 
tion which no doubt was promoted by the generous pota- 
tions of wine that my entertainer piled me with. 
The upshot was, that before leaving the tavern I was 
enlisted in the Rangers and engaged to go to Albaily 
next morning with the Major, and some other recruits 
who would arrive that evening. T went home considei'- 
ing myself already a hero, and was no doubt as mUch a 
patriot as any young fellow who goes a-soldieHiig out 
of spite or love, or boy's bravado, and fools himself and 
others that he does it for the sake of his king or coun- 
try. Then it was all lot the king, God bless him; twenty 
years after, it Was all for the country, the king be 
damned; and the one cared as much as the other for us 
poor devils. 
At dusk I stole away to the trysting place, hoping to 
see Mercy again and bid her farewell, but she did not 
come. I only foitnd a note in a Cfanny of the wall that 
was our postoffice, telling me that we were watched, and 
she knew not when she could meet me. and, ending 
thus, as I well remember: "God bless you, wherever 
vou go, and whatever betide I will ever be your faithful 
Mercy." 
It was grievous to me, and, I conceived, must be more 
so to her, that we were deprived of the sad pleasure of 
saying farewell, yet there was nothing of it now but the 
cold comfort of written words, whereof I made such use 
as I could with a pencil and scrap of paper in the dim 
evening light, telling her of my sudden resolution, tltat 
I would let her know where to write to me when I could, 
making many protestations of eternal love, and bidding 
her a fond adieu. Of this I made my last deposit in our 
postoffice, imagining with what tearful eyes it would be 
read; and, after some vain lingering, and halting often 
as I went', listening for footsteps that would not come, 
I returned to the home that was to be mine no longet. 
When I took respectful leave of my uncle and his fam- 
ily, I could but think how sorry is the parting of kins-, 
folk when there is no sorrow. It is a pain that one craves 
for himself, and for them. The only consolation I got 
of it was the envious looks of my eldest cousin, in whose 
eyes, as in my own esteem, I was becoming a hero. 
m.— A Scout for the Cfaamplain Forts, 
I SLUNG my small bundle on my rifle and tramped away 
to the tavern, where I found three other recruits already 
arrived. Two of them were young fellows of about my 
own age, and full of talk of their past, present and pros- 
pective affairs; the other, much older, taciturn, between 
the garridity of youth and age, and taking to this new 
venture with the unconcern of a soldier of fortune, as I 
took him to be. He called himself an Englishman, but 
his name was Murphy, while he had the speech of ,a 
Scotchman. , ah. ^ j 
Next morning we set forth toward Albany at a good 
pace in charge of Murphy, after Major Rogers had accom- 
panied us a few miles, when he left us, and we saw no 
more of him till we arrived in the old town of Albany. 
This was the first town of any importance that I had 
ever seen, and I was in a daze with all the wonders of it, 
which I had good opportunity of beholding during the 
week of our stay, not as yet being under strict discipline, 
but only required to report at the inn, where our quarters 
were, at noon and nightfall. It was a strange thing to see 
houses crowded together like soldiers in the ranks, when 
there was so much elbow room and breathing space in all 
the country about, and narrow streets thronged with 
citizens as well dressed as if for church-going, with not 
a few of the king's soldiers, whose fine scarlet clothes 
and mighty airs put us quite out of conceit with our rustic 
attire and manners. , „ 1, 
Murphy was an old soldier, and was hail-fellow-well- 
met wnth any of them not above the rank of sergeant. _ 
There was a great horror and indignation concerning 
the recent massacre at Fort William Henry, on Lake 
George, where the Frenchmen's Indian allies had fallen 
like wolves upon the EnglLsh prisoners of war and 
butchered them under the eyes of the French commander 
Montcalm, which had happened but a little while before. 
There was scarcely more clamor against the perfidy of 
the Frenchman than against the cowardice of the English 
general, Webb, who had abandoned the brave Colonel 
Monroe to his fate, and was now in a great fright for 
himself, calling for reinforcements from far and near. 
Colonial troops were now arriving, and a score of us 
newly recruited Rangers went forward with a company 
of them to Fort Edward. On the march I had my first 
taste of Ranger service, for Murphy had us scouting in 
front and flank, a squad of greenhorns quite useless to our 
friends and in more danger of getting lost in the woods 
or being shot by each other than by the enemy, who were 
now leagues away at Ticonderoga. licking their chops 
after the bloody feast at Lalce George. But no harm came 
to us. and Murphy was given a chance to air his mili- 
tary experience, though it had been of quite another sort. 
He bawled his orders as if he were at the head of a regi- 
ment, and we were in no danger of going far astray as 
long as he held to the route. This was a road cut through 
the^ woods broad enough for artillery and army wagons 
to pass over. 
When we came to the fort, I had my first sight of the 
pomp of war, and a strange thing it was to see all the 
throng and bustle of a great army hemmed in so close by 
the solitude of woods, with no outlet from it but the 
rough thoroughfare over which we had come, that opened 
its dark gateway into the somber forest to the northward. 
We were at once assigned to the quarters occupied by 
our corps, which consisted now of something more than 
a hundred men, but were not long permitted to remain 
there, for our commander, having arrived before us, pres- 
ently had us paraded and each man equipped with firelock, 
preferably a rifle, a hatchet or tomahawk, and sixty rounds 
of ammunition, and soon led us out into the woods to 
pl-actice our peculiar tactics on an imaginary foe. 
We ranged forward in three columns, with scouts 
thrown out on front and flanks, and the man who spoke 
above a whisper got himself rated roundly. Those of 
us who had experience as hunters proved the aptest 
learners, and I wasn't much behind any comrade of 
my own age, arid when it came to rifle practice, J cq«1c! 
