One day a strange adventure befell the Rangers.  Rogers and his little flotilla of boats were here, there, and everywhere upon the lake.  Not only did they move up and down Lake George, which was debatable ground, commanded at the different ends by a French and English fort, but they carried boats across a mountain gorge to the eastward, launched them again in South Bay, and rowed down the narrow prolongation of Lake Champlain, and under cover of dark nights would glide with muffled oars beneath the very guns of Ticonderoga, within hearing of the sentries’ challenge to each other, and so on to Crown Point, whence they could watch the movements of the enemy, and see their transports passing to and fro with provisions for Ticonderoga.

Many a small boat was seized, many a large one sunk by these hardy Rangers of the forest.  They were as wily as Indians, and as sudden and secret in their movements.  The French regarded them with a species of awe and fear.  They would sometimes find an English boat or canoe in some spot perfectly inexplicable to them.  They could not believe that anyone could pass the fortifications of Ticonderoga unseen and unheard, and would start the wildest hypotheses to account for the phenomenon, even to believing that some waterway existed which was unknown alike to them and their Indian scouts.

But to return to the adventure to which allusion has been made.

Rogers with some thirty of his Rangers was out upon one of those daring adventures.  They were encamped within a mile of Ticonderoga.  Their boats were lying in a little wooded creek which gave access to the lake.  Some of the party, headed by Rogers, had gone on towards Crown Point by night.  Stark, with a handful of trusty men, lay in hiding, watching the movements from the fort, and keeping a wary eye upon those who came and went, ready to pounce out upon any straggler who should adventure himself unawares into the forest, and carry him off captive to the English camp.

Certain tidings as to the course the campaign was likely to take were urgently wanted by this time.  The posts to the English fort brought in no news save that it was thought better for the army on the western frontier to remain upon the defensive, and no talk of sending large reinforcements came to cheer or encourage them.  Winslow was impatient and resentful.  He thought there were mismanagement and lack of energy.  He knew that the provinces had been roused at last out of their lethargy, and had pledged themselves to some active effort to check French aggression; yet weeks were slipping by, one after the other, and no help of any consequence came to the army on the outskirts.  No command reached the eager soldiers for a blow to be struck there, as had been confidently expected.

Perhaps the French might be better informed as to what was going on in other parts of the great continent, and so prisoners were wanted more urgently than ever.