rsuit we saw nothing of the leaders, and I had come
to believe that they were among the first to flee, when suddenly the
sergeant, in whose company Jacob and I had remained, pointed out amid the
bushes what appeared to be a large portmanteau which had evidently been
cast aside by some of the fugitives.

In the excitement of the chase either Jacob or I would have passed it by
as being of no particular value when there were so many things to be
picked up; but the old man was too good and experienced a soldier not to
realize the possibilities of the find, and, heedless of all the wild
scenes around him, he seized upon it, breaking the lock with a rock.

Then it was we learned that the apparently valueless case was none other
than the writing-desk, or official portfolio, belonging to General St.
Leger himself, and in it were not only private letters and documents, but
all his correspondence and papers relating to the campaign, such as
afterward served to show that the king's officers had actually hired the
Indians to murder those whom they called "rebels."

"I reckon we've captured the prize of the day," the sergeant said,
gleefully, after making certain as to the contents of the case. "This is
of more value than a score of prisoners, although there's far less
satisfaction in seizin' it."

A moment later the old man began to understand that if he held on to the
prize he would be left far behind in the chase by our people, because it
was far too cumbersome to be carried at a rapid pace, and then he
regretted having found it.

I believe that for a moment he had it in his mind to throw the heavy
portfolio away, willing to lose what he believed to be the most valuable
of all the plunder that might be found, rather than miss the excitement of
the chase; but, fortunately, just then John Sammons came limping back with
a wound in the leg which had been inflicted by a savage whom he afterward
succeeded in killing.

"It's the toughest kind of ill-fortune to be crippled just when the fun is
the hottest," he said, after explaining how the wound had been received.
"I can't go on, an' I don't want to miss the show when the crazy
Britishers an' Tories arrive at the shore of the lake."

"It looks pretty bad," Sergeant Corney said, when he had made the most
careless examination of the wound, and I was surprised to hear him speak
in such a tone, for it was not his custom to make much ado over any
injury, however severe. "I reckon you'