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its own dead." Such were the forest scenes with which the old hunters were the most familiar in their daily vocation.

Nathaniel Foster was born in what is now Vernon, Windham county, Vt., in 1767. At the age of twenty-four he married Miss Jemima, the daughter of Amos Streeter, of New Hampshire, and emigrated to Salisbury, Herkimer county, then nearly surrounded by the old wilderness. Wild game was exceedingly plentiful there at that time, and being eager in the pursuit of it, he soon became a famous hunter and trapper. Volumes almost have been written of his daring exploits in the forest. He was nearly six feet in height, his frame was well-knit, large and muscular. His features were strongly marked, his eyes dark, his hair a sandy brown, and his countenance sallow. From the days of his boyhood Foster had nursed a deadly hatred of the Indian, and marvelous stories are told of the numbers slain by him during his long career in the forest.

In the year 1832, game becoming scarce around his home in the Mohawk valley, Foster removed with his family to the long deserted Herreshoff Manor, where he could be nearer his congenial haunts.

II.

DRID.

Foster's only neighbors on the tract were three bachelor hunters, named William S. Wood, David Chase and Willard Johnson, and a St. Regis Indian, whose real name was Peter Waters, but who always, in the forest, went by the name of Drid. Drid was a morose, quarrelsome Indian, who often threatened Foster's life, although Foster and his family had

Upon one occasion, when

done him many acts of kindness.

they had been debating about something, Drid said to Foster:

"There is no law here. If I kill you, I kill you, and if you kill me, you kill me."

"I will not make any such bargain as that," replied Foster. "I do not wish to harm you, and you have no reason to feel like that toward me."

On another occasion Drid was heard to say, "Me got a bad heart. Me put a bullet through old Foster."

At length, on the morning of the 17th day of September, 1833, Foster and Drid had another encounter, in which Drid attempted to take Foster's life. They were separated by the hunters present, but not until Drid had severely cut Foster's arm with his knife in attempting to stab him to the heart.

In the course of an hour after this, Drid started up the river in his canoe, bound for the lakes, in the company of two white hunters, who were in their own boat. After Drid had left, Foster took down his trusty rifle, and taking an overland course on foot across a bend in the river, reached a point on the stream about two miles above the Forge, before Drid arrived there. Stepping down to the edge of the bank, and pointing his rifle through the bushes that thickly lined the shore, Foster shot Drid through the heart as Drid was paddling his canoe past the spot where Foster stood. In killing Drid, Foster shot between the two white hunters as they passed along between him and the Indian, one sitting in each end of their boat. But Foster made no mistakes with his unerring rifle. Foster then hastened homeward by the way he came. The two hunters also returned

at once in their boat to the Forge, and when they arrived at Foster's home they found Foster lying quietly in his bed as if nothing had happened.

But Foster was arrested, indicted, and tried for the murder of Drid. His trial came on at the Herkimer Oyer and Terminer in September, 1834, Justice Hiram Denio of the Circuit Court, presiding, and Jonas Cleland, John B. Dygert, Abijah Osborn, and Richard Herendeen, Judges of the Common Pleas, sitting to form the court. James B. Hunt, the District Attorney, and Simeon Ford, were for the people, and E. P. Hurlbut, Joshua A. Spencer, A. Hackley, and Lauren Ford of counsel for the defence. The trial excited unusual interest, and the court room was crowded from day to day as it progressed. The prosecution proved to the jury the facts of the killing as above set forth, and rested the case. The counsel for the prisoner offered in evidence the several previous threats made by Drid against the life of Foster. His Honor the presiding judge and Judge Dygert were of the opinion that the threats made previous to the homicide were not admissable. But, for the first time in his life, Judge Denio found himself over-ruled by the Judges of the Common Pleas. The other three judges, being a majority of the court, admitted the evidence, and the case was given to the jury. After but two hours' deliberation, the jury returned into court with a verdict of not guilty.

Foster, overcome by the excitement, when the jury came in, was almost insensible. But when the words not guilty fairly struck his senses, he rose to his full height, and stretching out his arms wide over the heads of the silent spectators, exclaimed "God bless you all! God bless the

people!" Then rushing out of the court room, he bestrode his well-known hunter's pony, and rode away to his home in the forest.

But Foster dare not remain long on Brown's Tract, lest the relatives of Drid should seek to revenge his death. Yet the friends of Drid never troubled Foster. They came down from St. Regis and took Drid's widow and children back with them to their home on the St. Lawrence. As for Drid, they said "He was a bad Indian. Let him go."

Foster removed with his family to Boonville, Oneida Co., and from there to the forest wilds of Northern Pennsylvania, where he again for a time followed his favorite pursuits. But his mind never seemed quite at rest after killing Drid. He at length returned from Pennsylvania to Boonville, but he dare not venture out of doors in the dark. Foster died in Boonville, in March, 1841, aged 74 years.*

* Trappers of New York, by Jeptha R. Simms.

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In most countries, and in all ages of the world there have been men who, actuated by some motive or other, have lived apart from the society of their fellows, and led lonely lives in desert places. In tracing from memory and tradition what little is known of the solitary lives of the hermit hunters of the Great Wilderness, it will be seen that our own country is no exception to this rule. Of some of these hermit hunters, traditions still remain along the borders of their exploits in the chase, of the motives which incited them to abandon the world, of their manner of life, of their sufferings and death.

One of the most charming lakes in the Lake Belt of the Wilderness is Smith's Lake. It lies at the head waters of the Beaver River, in the county of Hamilton, about ten miles as the crow flies north of Raquette Lake, and four miles to the west of Little Tupper's Lake. Ten miles to the north of it, lies Cranberry Lake, on the Oswegatchie, in St. Lawrence county, and ten miles westerly are the lakes of the Red Horse chain, while between it and the Raquette is Beach's Lake. Smith's Lake is now frequented mostly

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