o a sugar camp, and beyond it, stretching between us and
Vincennes, was a sea of water. Here we made our camp, if camp it could
be called. There was no fire, no food, and the water seeped out of the
ground on which we lay. Some of those even who had not yet spoken now
openly said that we could go no farther. For the wind had shifted into
the northwest, and, for the first time since we had left Kaskaskia we
saw the stars gleaming like scattered diamonds in the sky. Bit by bit
the ground hardened, and if by chance we dozed we stuck to it. Morning
found the men huddled like sheep, their hunting shirts hard as boards,
and long before Hamilton's gun we were up and stamping. Antoine poked
the butt of his rifle through the ice of the lake in front of us.

"I think we not get to Vincennes this day," he said.

Colonel Clark, who heard him, turned to me.

"Fetch McChesney here, Davy," he said. Tom came.

"McChesney," said he, "when I give the word, take Davy and his drum on
your shoulders and follow me. And Davy, do you think you can sing that
song you gave us the other night?"

"Oh, yes, sir," I answered.

Without more ado the Colonel broke the skim of ice, and, taking some of
the water in his hand, poured powder from his flask into it and rubbed
it on his face until he was the color of an Indian. Stepping back, he
raised his sword high in the air, and, shouting the Shawanee war-whoop,
took a flying leap up to his thighs in the water. Tom swung me instantly
to his shoulder and followed, I beating the charge with all my might,
though my hands were so numb that I could scarce hold the sticks.
Strangest of all, to a man they came shouting after us.

"Now, Davy!" said the Colonel.

"I've faught on land, I've faught at sea,
At hame I faught my aunty, O;
But I met the deevil and Dundee
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O."

I piped it at the top of my voice, and sure enough the regiment took up
the chorus, for it had a famous swing.

"An' ye had been where I had been,
Ye wad na be sae cantie, O;
An' ye had seen what I ha'e seen'
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O."

When their breath was gone we heard Cowan shout that he had found a
path under his feet,--a path that was on dry land in the summer-time. We
followed it, feeling carefully, and at length, when we had suffered all
that we could bear, we stumbled on to a dry ridge. Here we spent another
night of