A settlement had also grown up round Fort George and, at a rest house that night, Roger made enquiries of the owner about transport up the lake. Next morning the man produced two Longhunters who were going north in their canoe and willing to take two passengers for a reasonable price.
The name of one was Ben Log, the other was known as 'Shorty'. Both of them were bearded and had mops of ill-trimmed hair under caps of skin which had been shorn of the fur. They were dressed in green hunting shirts, with girdles of wampum and-breeches and leggings of buckskin, the latter laced at the sides and gartered above the'knee with deer sinews. Each had a knife and a small hatchet thrust through his girdle and, hanging from it, powder horns and pouches. The rifles they carried were very long and the barrels polished to mirror brightness.
They naturally wanted to know why the Brooks wished to go north, and Roger produced a story he had thought up in New York. Knowing that they had no means of checking up his account of himself, he said he was a cartographer employed by the Government to make more accurate maps of the country south of the St. Lawrence. To support his story he had bought a theodolite, a number of maps and a big roll of paper suitable for making others. He added, before he could be asked why he was taking his wife into the wilds with him, that he, although an expert surveyor, was a poor hand at drawing, whereas Mary had a gift for it; so she was indispensable as his assistant.
By midday, the Brooks' baggage and gear—including a bivouac that Roger bought at the local store, as they would have to camp at nights on shore—had been carried down to the canoe and, with the two Longhunters paddling in prow and stern, they set off up Lake George.
The scenery on either side was more beautiful than ever for, on the east, the Green Mountains, and on the west the Adirondacks, ran down to the shores of the long, narrow lake. For most people who normally lived in comfort the prospect of having to camp out in such bitter weather would have been highly disagreeable. But after the terrible weeks that Roger and Mary had spent in the icy wastes of Russia, they could face it without apprehension. There, for a great part of the time they had had to fend for themselves; here they had with them two strong men who would do all the chores. There, too, towards the end of their journey, they had been near starvation; now they had ample supplies of food with them.
For many months each year the Longhunters lived far from civilisation, so making camp was for them a long-perfected drill. With a practised eye they selected sites where canvas could be stretched between neighbouring trees at an angle that would screen the campers from the wind. The canoe had no sooner grounded than they threw out fishing lines. Jumping ashore, they swiftly collected rotten branches and, starting it with a small log soaked in resin, within a few minutes made a good fire. While Shorty set up the bivouac and brought furs, stores and cooking utensils from the canoe, Ben Log went off into the woods with his long rifle to see if he could sight a bird or game for the pot. So they ate heartily every evening while the Longhunters remained with them off a fresh-caught fish or savoury stews of venison, hare, or turkey.
At the northern end of Lake George lay the settlement of Ticonderoga. There they had to land and cross a narrow isthmus to reach the far larger Lake Champlain. A party of Indians from among those who lived in the settlement was hired to do the porterage. Four of them carried the big canoe, the others the tentage, baggage and equipment.
Roger noticed that none of them wore feathers in his hair, and Ben Log told him they were known as 'naked foreheads'—men who had failed to pass the agonising ordeals by which an Indian became a 'brave'. They were, he added, squirting out the juice of a tobacco plug he was chewing, men of the Oneides tribe, who with the Mohawks, Onondagas, Cayuga and Senecas made up the Five Nations.
As they advanced up the long lake, whenever they passed a small bay a part of which faced nearly northward, they noticed the ice there had not yet melted and fringed the shore. Further up it made a white line all along the coast, and the trees were still coated in snow. Several times they had to turn their fur collars up round their faces while passing through snow storms and, when they went ashore, flail their arms to warm themselves up until a fire could be got going. The Longhunters had brought a good supply of spruce—a fiery spirit—with them, and every night before settling down to sleep in their beaver robes, they all drank a good ration of it.
Occasionally they passed other canoes, manned either by befeathered Indians or bearded whites, and twice they were passed by small sailing barques carrying troops up to the front. But usually there were no other humans in sight, and nothing moved except, now and then, a fish-hawk diving on its unseen prey. For long spells the silence was broken only by the rhythmic splashing of the Longhunters5 paddles as they drove the canoe steadily forward.
Dusk still fell early; then, while they sat round the camp fire, the denizens of the forest awoke to go on their nightly prowl for food: coyotes barked, badgers screamed, owls hooted and wolves howled. One night a small pack of wolves, attracted by the fire, approached near enough for their yellow eyes to reflect the light. Mary gave a little cry of fright, and Roger quickly put his arm about her while, with his free hand, he pulled out one of his pistols. But the Longhunters did not even bother to pick up their rifles. Shorty plucked a burning brand from the fire, hurled it at the nearest wolf and chuckled when it hit its mark. The singed beast gave a high-pitched whine and bounded away, followed by the others.
At that date the head of Lake Champlain, and the Richelieu river, which connects it with the St. Lawrence, were in Canadian territory. Roger had been greatly tempted to offer the Longhunters a good sum to take. Mary and himself as far as the border, but decided not to risk it. They were naturally posing as Americans, and as many New Yorkers had English accents, neither of the men had shown the least suspicion that they were not. But if they were given cause to think that their passengers meant to cross into Canada, they might very well guess the truth and cut up rough, which would be very awkward and dangerous.
In consequence the party landed at Plattsburg, which was about twenty miles below the frontier, and where Roger had originally hired them to take him. There was a considerable number of troops in the town, as it was the base for the northern front. In an open space a company of American troops was being drilled and, after watching for a few minutes, Roger took a very poor view of them. They were nearly all good specimens of manhood, strong-limbed and with healthy, bronzed faces; but their dress was slipshod, their movements had no snap and obviously they were recruits unused to discipline. Having spent much of his time for many years with both the French and British armies, he knew that one quarter of their number of Napoleon's Imperial Guard, the British Grenadiers or a regiment of the Line, would make mincemeat of the poor fellows.
Every foot of the original accommodation in the place was occupied, and many new huts had been built, but only as quarters for the military, so Roger and his party had to pitch camp on the edge of the town and sleep in their bivouacs. Normally the Longhunters would have gone off into the forest to shoot and trap game until they had collected as many pelts as they could carry back to
the lake and take down to Fort George for sale, but Roger now made them a handsome offer to accompany him and Mary westward as far as the St. Lawrence.
Next morning Ben Log succeeded in hiring a covered wagon with a half-breed driver. That afternoon, having loaded their tentage and freshly-bought stores, they set off on their ninety-mile trek along a trail that had developed into a rough road after convoys and troops had so frequently used it.