Upon one occasion an Oneida Indian, who had placed a rock between himself and two of his Indian pursuers, putting his hat on the end of his gun-barrel, raised it slowly, as if to obtain a sight of his enemies. The ruse succeeded; both Indians fired, the hat dropped, and rushing forward with exulting yells, expecting to secure a scalp, one was instantly shot down, and the other took to his heels for safety.

This kind of warfare made it necessary for the white man to adopt similar methods, and in this way a hardy, active, and self-reliant body of frontiersmen were trained up, who were of the greatest service in the wars waged by the two races. An organized body of these men was employed in the "Old French War." They were known as "Rogers's Rangers," from their commander, Major Robert Rogers. This celebrated partisan, a native of Dunbarton, New Hampshire, was at this time under thirty years of age. Rough in feature, he was tall and well-proportioned, and was one of the most athletic men of his time, being prominent in all the trials of strength or activity in his neighborhood for miles around.

Rogers possessed great presence of mind, intrepidity, and perseverance, and a plausible address, and had in early life acquired great decision and boldness of character. He was versed in all the arts of woodcraft, was sagacious, prompt, and resolute, yet so cautious as to incur at times the unjust charge of cowardice.

These qualities he displayed on many occasions. Once, when in England, a mail-coach in which he was a passenger was stopped by a highwayman on Hounslow Heath. The robber, thrusting a pistol through the coach window, demanded the purses and watches of the occupants. While the others were delivering up theirs, the bold ranger suddenly seized the robber by the collar, drew him by main strength through the carriage window, and bade the coachman drive on. The highwayman proved to be an old offender, for whose apprehension a reward bad been offered by the government.

At a social party of British officers at which he was present, it was agreed by the company that whoever of them should tell the most improbable story should have his bill paid by the others. When his turn carne, Rogers stated that his father was shot in the woods by a hunter, who mistook him for a bear; that his mother was followed by a hunter, who mistook her tracks in the snow on a stormy day for those of a wolf; and that he, when a boy, had carried birch-brooms on his back to Rumford, ten miles distant from his father's house, to be sold, following a path through the woods only marked by spotted trees. The company paid for his dinner, admitting that he had told the "toughest" story. Rogers had only stated the exact truth.

The Rangers were a body of hardy and resolute young men, principally from the vicinity of Amoskeag Falls, New Hampshire, where Rogers had been accustomed to meet them at the annual fishing season, and on whose skill, courage, and fidelity he could implicitly rely. Especially renowned as marksmen, every one of these rugged foresters could hit an object of the size of a silver dollar at a hundred yards. He could follow the trail of man or beast, and endure the extremes of fatigue, hunger, and cold.

They were constantly employed in watching the motions of the enemy, in pursuing their marauding parties, or in cutting off their convoys of supplies, frequently making prisoners of their sentinels at Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Limited in their expeditions to no season, they made, in winter, long and fatiguing journeys on snow-shoes into the enemy's country, often encamping in the forest without a fire, to avoid discovery, when the ground was covered with snow, and with no other food than the game they could kill during their march. They were the most formidable body of men ever employed in Indian warfare, and in regular engagements proved themselves not inferior to British troops. From frequent contact with the natives, they were familiar with their language and customs, and their French and Indian foes dreaded them with good reason.

Theirs was a hard life, but the excitement and danger attendant upon it gave it a zest that reconciled these hardy foresters to its toils and privations. There was something singularly attractive to the young frontiersman in the free forest life of the Ranger. To him it was a source of no ordinary enjoyment to scour the forest in search of the Indian foe, but to be able to steal upon him unawares, and to return victorious from an expedition against him, was in the highest degree exhilarating and inspiring.

No hero of romance ever displayed more daring. Danger and death were his constant companions. He defied wounds, capture, torture, mutilation, and never counted the number of his foes until after he had routed them. Where to strike first and most effectively was his only study. Securing his retreat was no part of his strategy; he never measured the distance from his base of operations, for he was his own commissary and quartermaster, carrying his rations on his back, having for his bed the bosom of mother earth, and for his tent the canopy of heaven. His tactics were the maxims of Indian warfare, and he knew his duty so well, and was so self-reliant, that obedience and subordination seemed to him wholly unnecessary. The corps of Rangers always marched silently and with great rapidity, and by the shortest line. Neither forest nor stream presented any obstacle to their progress.

It was in this school that Putnam, Rogers, Stark, Brewer, and others were trained for future usefulness in the struggle for American independence. Several British officers, attracted by this exciting and hazardous, as well as novel, method of campaigning, joined as volunteers in some of their expeditions. Among them was the young Lord Howe, who, during this tour of duty, formed a strong friendship for Putnam and Stark, both of whom were with him when he fell at Ticonderoga shortly afterwards.

So useful was the corps of Rangers found to be in its very first campaign, that from a single company of sixty men it was at once increased to four, and afterwards to nine companies of one hundred men each, Rogers being promoted to the rank of major. The then were subject to army discipline and the articles of war. Their dress was that of the frontiersman of that day, and uniform in each company. One of these was composed wholly of Indians in their native costume. The weapons of the Ranger were a firelock or fusee, a hatchet, and a long knife. A powder-horn was slung under the right arm. The pack, to which was strapped a blanket, held his provisions, and flint and steel with which to strike fire. Each officer carried a pocket-compass.

The arena of their exploits was the vicinity of Fort Ticonderoga, at the northern extremity of Lake George, forty miles from Fort William Henry, a British work at the south end of the lake. The waters of Lake George and Lake Champlain formed the main avenue of communication between Canada and the English colonies. Crown Point, on Lake Champlain, and Ticonderoga, both in the hands of the French, were the keys to this important thoroughfare, over which, at all seasons of the year, the hostile parties of French and Indians passed. Snow-shoes rendered their progress easy in winter; at all other times they glided over its placid waters with ease and celerity in their light birch canoes. Fort Edward, on the Hudson, and Fort William Henry, fifteen miles farther inland, were the two most northerly of the British frontier posts.

This picturesque region, with its mountains, lakes, and forests, yet retains much of its original character, and it is not easy for the tourist who to-day rambles amid its peaceful solitudes to realize that this lovely and romantic region could ever have been the scene of such fierce strife as was waged here little more than a century ago.

Rogers's lieutenant was John Stark, afterwards the hero of Bennington. When in his twenty-fourth year, while out with a hunting party, he, with a companion named Amos Eastman, was captured by some St. Francis Indians and taken to their village. The others of the party, David Stinson and William Stark, his brother, were in a boat at the time of the capture, and John was ordered by the Indians to decoy them to the shore. Instead of doing so, he shouted to them to save themselves by pulling to the opposite shore. They did so, and the Indians fired upon them, but John knocked up the muzzles of their guns, and by this piece of audacity saved the life of his brother, who escaped. John was severely beaten by his captors for this performance, but was afterwards kindly treated by them.

At the Indian village the prisoners had to run the gauntlet. For this cruel sport the young warriors of the tribe were ranged in two lines, each armed with a rod or club to strike the captive as he passed them, singing some provoking words taught him for the occasion, and intended to stimulate their wrath against the unfortunate victim. The latter carried a pole six or eight feet long, with the skin of some bird or animal attached to it.

Eastman, who was the first to undergo the ordeal, was terribly mauled. Stark, whose pole was ornamented with a loon's skin, making a sudden rush, knocked down the nearest Indian, and wresting his club from him, struck out right and left, dealing such vigorous blows at each turn that he made it lively for the Indians without much injury to himself. This feat greatly pleased the old Indians, who enjoyed the discomfiture of their young men. When the Indians directed him to hoe corn, Stark cut up the young corn, and flung his hoe into the river, declaring that it was the business of squaws, and not of warriors, to hoe corn. Pleased with his boldness, the Indians released him from his task. He was adopted into the tribe by the sachem, and treated with genuine kindness as long as he remained with them. He was subsequently ransomed on payment of £100, and returned home.

During the Revolutionary War, Stark's services were rendered at the most critical moments, and were of the highest value to his country. At Bunker Hill he commanded at the rail fence on the left of the redoubt, holding the post long enough to insure the safety of his overpowered and retreating countrymen. At Trenton, where the capture of the Hessian garrison revived the sinking spirits of the Americans, he led the van of Sullivan's division; and at Bennington he struck the decisive blow that paralyzed Burgoyne and made his surrender inevitable.

While stationed at Fort William Henry, in March, 1757, Stark's vigilance saved the fort from surprise and capture. It was then garrisoned by an Irish regiment and one hundred and fifty Rangers, many of whom were of the Scotch-Irish race. Overhearing his men planning a celebration in honor of St. Patrick, he ordered that no grog should be served to them on the evening of the 17th without his written order. Feigning a lame wrist, he refused all entreaties for such an order. Meantime the Irish soldiers, having received an extra supply of rum, held a carouse lasting through that night and the following day. Being totally unfit for duty, the Rangers, who were sober; supplied their places as sentinels. At two o'clock on the morning of the 18th a French army of two thousand five hundred men, under De Vaudreuil, with a large Indian following, knowing the Irish custom, and expecting to find the garrison intoxicated, approached within thirty rods of the fort. Five hundred picked men then advanced with scaling ladders to the attack. The Rangers were on the alert, and poured a destructive volley into their ranks, while the guns of the fort opened with grape and canister upon the column in the rear. Confused and mortified, the French fell back greatly demoralized. On the following day a general attack was made, which was gallantly repulsed, and after a five days' siege the enemy withdrew. The fort was soon afterwards captured by Montcalm, by whom it was entirely destroyed. The Rangers were engaged for the first time in the action at Lake George, between General Johnson, and the French and Indians, under Baron Dieskan. Rogers and a part of his command were absent at the time on a scouting expedition up the Hudson.

In January, 1757, a detachment of Rangers marched from Fort William Henry to intercept supplies passing between Crown Point and Ticonderoga. Half-way between these posts they captured several sleds and destroyed their loading. One sled escaped, and was driven swiftly back to Ticonderoga. Knowing that the garrison would be immediately notified of their presence, the Rangers at once began their retreat. As it was raining, they paused at their last night's camping-ground, where their fires were still burning, long enough to dry their guns and put in fresh pruning. They marched in single file, Rogers in front, Stark in the rear, and Captain Spekeman in the centre. At two in the afternoon, when only three miles from Ticonderoga, they were suddenly attacked by a force of French and Indians of three times their own number, concealed in their front. A desperate and sanguinary encounter now took place. The enemy, who were drawn up in the form of a crescent upon the summit of a hill, saluted the Rangers with a volley that proved fatal to several, and wounded Rogers in the head. He ordered his men to retire to an opposite eminence, where Stark and Brewer had made a stand with forty men to cover the retreat. Stark repulsed the enemy by a brisk fire from his position, thus affording the retreating Rangers an opportunity to post themselves to advantage. He himself took post in the centre, and placed reserves to protect the flanks and watch the movements of the enemy.

Attempts to outflank them were repeatedly made, and were gallantly repulsed. The Rangers were also hard pressed in front, but having the advantage of the ground, and being sheltered by large trees, they maintained a constant and effective fire until darkness put an end to the conflict, when the enemy retired. Rogers having been wounded, and Spekeman killed, the command devolved upon Stark.

While the fight was fiercest, a ball pierced Rogers's wrist. A stream of blood gushed out. It had to be stopped or he would bleed to death. Rogers's hair was braided in a queue behind. One of the Rangers cut it off with his hunting-knife, and Rogers thrusting it into the wound stopped the flow of blood.

After receiving this second wound, Rogers advised a retreat, but Stark declared that he had a good position and would fight until dark, and then retreat; that in such a course lay their only safety, and that he would shoot the first man who fled. While he was speaking, a bullet struck the lock of his gun, rendering it useless. Seeing a Frenchman fall at the same moment he sprang forward, seized his gun, and returning to his tree continued the action.

While the Rangers were defending their position on the crest of the hill, Stark observed that several balls struck near him from a particular direction. A moment afterwards he discovered an Indian stretched at full length upon a rock, behind a large tree. Getting his gun in readiness, as the Indian rose for another shot at him, it was instantly levelled and discharged, and the savage rolled from the rock into the snow, pierced through the head by the bullet.

At nightfall Stark drew off his men in good order, and by marching all night reached Lake George early next morning. As the wounded were unable to proceed farther, Stark volunteered to procure assistance from Fort William Henry. He reached it that evening, performing the journey of forty miles upon snow-shoes, the snow being four feet deep upon a level. Sleds were immediately despatched, and the wounded safely transported to the fort.

Stark's decision, prudence, and courage saved the Rangers from defeat in this instance, and contributed greatly to the subsequent success and celebrity of the corps. He was promoted to the captaincy made vacant by the loss of Captain Spekeman.

This was a costly victory for the Rangers, who lost, in killed, wounded, and prisoners, more than one-third of their number. The number of the enemy was two hundred and fifty, of whom one hundred and sixteen were killed and wounded.