Among Putnam’s many adventures, there are two others which have often been told, but are worthy of repetition.  On one occasion he was surprised by a large party of Indians, when with a few men in a boat at the head of the rapids of the Hudson, at Fort Miller.  It was a frightfully perilous situation.  To stay where he was, was to be slaughtered; to attempt crossing the stream would bring him under the Indian fire; to go down the falls promised instant death.  Which expedient should he adopt?  He chose the latter, preferring to risk death from water rather than from tomahawk or bullet.

The boat was pushed from the shore and exposed to the full force of the current.  In a minute or two it had swept beyond the range of the Indian weapons.  But death seemed inevitable.  The water rushed on in foaming torrents, whirling round rocks, sweeping over shelves, pouring down in abrupt falls, shooting onward with the wildest fury.  It seemed as if only a miracle could save the voyagers.

Yet with unyielding coolness Putnam grasped the helm; while his keen eye scanned the peril ahead, his quick hand met every danger as it came.  Incessantly the course of the boat was changed, to avoid the protruding rocks.  Here it was tossed on the billows, there it shot down inclined reaches, now it seemed plunging into a boiling eddy, now it whirled round a threatening obstacle; like a leaf in the tempest it was borne onward, and at length, to the amazement of its inmates themselves, and the astoundment of the Indians, it floated safely on the smooth waters below, after a passage of perils such as have rarely been dared.  The savages gave up the chase.  A man who could safely run those rapids seemed to them to bear a charmed life.

[Illustration:  Shore of lake George.]

The other story mentioned is one indicative of Putnam’s wit and readiness.  The army was now encamped in the forest, in a locality to the eastward of Lake George.  While here, the Indians prowled through the woods around it, committing depredations here and there, picking off sentinels, and doing other mischief.  They seemed to have impunity in this work, and defied the utmost efforts at discovery.  One outpost in particular was the seat of a dread mystery.  Night after night the sentinel at this post disappeared, and was not heard of again.  Some of the bravest men of the army were selected to occupy the post, with orders, if they should hear any noise, to call out “Who goes there?” three times, and if no answer came, to fire.  Yet the mysterious disappearances continued, until the men refused to accept so dangerous a post.  The commander was about to draw a sentinel by lot, when Major Putnam solved the difficulty by offering to stand guard for the coming night.  The puzzled commander promptly accepted his offer, instructing him, as he had done the others,—­

“If you hear any sound from without the lines, you will call ‘Who goes there?’ three times, and then, if no answer be given, fire.”