While Jack was at home with his people Solomon spent a week in the foundry and forge and, before they set out on their journey, had three of these unique weapons, all loaded and packed in water-proof wrappings.

About the middle of May they proceeded in a light bark canoe to Fort Edward and carried it across country to Lake George and made their way with paddles to Ticonderoga.  There they learned that scouts were operating only on and near Lake Champlain.  The interior of Tryon County was said to be dangerous ground.  Mohawks, Cagnawagas, Senecas, Algonquins and Hurons were thick in the bush and all on the warpath.  They were torturing and eating every white man that fell in their hands, save those with a Tory mark on them.

“We’re skeered o’ the bush,” said an elderly bearded soldier, who was sitting on a log.  “A man who goes into the wildwood needs to be a good friend o’ God.”

“But Schuyler thinks a force of British may land somewhere along the big river and come down through the bush, building a road as they advance,” said Jack.

“A thousand men could make a tol’able waggin road to Fort Edward in a month,” Solomon declared.  “That’s mebbe the reason the Injuns are out in the bush eatin’ Yankees.  They’re tryin’ fer to skeer us an’ keep us erway.  By the hide an’ horns o’ the devil!  We got to know what’s a-goin’ on out thar.  You fellers are a-settin’ eround these ’ere forts as if ye had nothin’ to do but chaw beef steak an’ wipe yer rifles an’ pick yer teeth.  Why don’t ye go out thar in the bush and do a little skeerin’ yerselves?  Ye’re like a lot o’ ol’ women settin’ by the fire an’ tellin’ ghos’ stories.”

“We got ‘nuff to do considerin’ the pay we git,” said a sergeant.

“Hell an’ Tophet!  What do ye want o’ pay?” Solomon answered.  “Ain’t ye willin’ to fight fer yer own liberty without bein’ paid fer it?  Ye been kicked an’ robbed an’ spit on, an’ dragged eround by the heels, an’ ye don’t want to fight ‘less somebody pays ye.  What a dam’ corn fiddle o’ a man ye mus’ be!”

Solomon was putting fresh provisions in his pack as he talked.

“All the Injuns o’ Kinady an’ the great grass lands may be snookin’ down through the bush.  We’re bound fer t’ know what’s a-goin’ on out thar.  We’re liable to be skeered, but also an’ likewise we’ll do some skeerin’ ’fore we give up—­you hear to me.”

Jack and Solomon set out in the bush that afternoon and before night fell were up on the mountain slants north of the Glassy Water, as Lake George was often called those days.  But for Solomon’s caution an evil fate had perhaps come to them before their first sleep on the journey.  The new leaves were just out, but not quite full.  The little maples and beeches flung their sprays of vivid green foliage above the darker shades of the witch hopple into the soft-lighted air of the great house of the wood and filled it with a pleasant odor.  A mile or so