Three Rivers
Hudson~Mohawk~Schoharie
History From America's Most Famous Valleys

The Life and Adventures
of Nat Foster,
Trapper and Hunter of the Adirondacks
by A. L. Byron-Curtiss
Utica, N. Y.
Press of Thomas J. Griffiths,
131 Genesee Street, 1897

Chapter XIV

When Foster took up what he intended, no doubt, should be the permanent residence on Fulton Chain in 1832, he was over sixty-five years of age. He rented the farm at Salisbury to his son Amos, and took his wife with him into the wilderness. They occupied as their home the Herreshoff house. In a short time they were joined by their son David, accompanied by his wife and child. The Fosters were the only white families on the clearings at the time, though three old bachelors lived in another one of the abandoned dwellings situated on the "Middle Clearing," being about half way between the Herreshoff house and the dam. It afterwards became known as the Slocum place. The names of the three men were William S. Wood, David Chase and Willard Johnson. The letter had gone into the woods to work in the forge at his trade as smelter, but upon the abandonment of the dwellings situated on the "Middle Clearing," being about half way between the Herreshoff house and the dam. It afterwards became known as the Slocum place. The names of the three men were William S. Wood, David Chase and Willard Johnson. The latter had gone into the woods to work in the forge at his trade as smelter, but upon the abandonment of the works he continued there, hunting and trapping for a living, and was joined by Wood and Chase in his hermitage.

In a rude hut or shanty not far from their dwelling, lived an Indian named Peter Waters, but familiarly known in the forests by the name of Drid. He was a quarrelsome fellow, and as soon as Foster settled on the tract, began to use every conceivable means to pick a quarrel with him. No doubt the fact that Foster was known as a man who had slain many of his race and bore the reputation of an Indian killer, intensified his hatred of the old hunter. And from the fact that he was now advanced in years and his fighting days were practically over, Drid erroneously thought he could treat him with insolence and audacity he did; but he "reckoned without his host," for the man had not "lost his cunning," nor "his hand its skill," as the reckless warrior was to discover in due time.

Foster, during his residence at the Chain, was very jealous of his rights there. He had leased the tract for the express purpose of hunting and trapping undisturbed during the last years of his life. W. S. Benchley, writing of him in 1843, says: "I spent several days upon the lakes with Foster at this time. He conversed but little, and his restless, roving eye was never still. With his rifle at his side, he seemed ever anxious to discover something on shore worthy of his unerring aim. Frequently he would direct my attention to an object on some distant grassy beach, saying, 'See, there is a deer; watch and you will see it move.' He was never mistaken. Still, one less accustomed with the woods would very seldom have supposed that anything of the kind was insight. The bald eagle, which is frequently seen in this region," continues Benchley, "Foster would never disturb, for he thought those noble birds were made to live unmolested by man, although he said, 'the cussed Injuns shot them.'" His sentiments appear to have undergone a change in this respect since his boyhood, or perhaps the memory of Old Put caused him to entertain a sentimental regard for the noble bird. He seemed to feel as though he was lord of the tract," says Benchley, "and no one else, especially an Indian, had as good right there as he."

The same writer says: "Along the northern shore of Second Lake rises a most grand and sublime mountain (Bald Mountain) presenting the front of a naked rock for nearly a mile, at a height of several hundred feet. On its summit Uncle Nat told me he had often been, and that from that elevated position he could see the lakes for miles around, and that there he could enjoy himself and not be troubled by the d--d Indians, especially that black devil, who was all the while threatening his life.'" The Indian alluded to is said to have been quite successful in killing deer, and often "floated" for them. This mode of securing the noble game much displeased Foster and it is believed to have been one source of difficulty between them.

The real trouble between Foster and the Indian began soon after the former took up his residence on the tract. Drid took Foster's boat from its moorings at the dam without his knowledge or consent, and left it a mile up the river. As soon as Foster missed his boat he looked up the Indian and compelled him, at the muzzle of his rifle, to lead him to the spot where he had left it. He found the Indian had stove a hole in it, and as he was bending over examining it, Drid jumped on the old man and attempted to knife him. In spite of his age Foster threw him off and cocking his rifle told Drid to "Begone before I shoot you in your tracks." Seeing the flash of the old man's eye, he slunk sullenly away, and from that time until he death, he constantly threatened the hunter's life, and made several unsuccessful attempts to shoot or tomahawk him.

The Fosters were always kind to the Indian's family, and when he was away on a long hunt, his squaw depended almost entirely on this kindness for the support of herself and children. This was continued after the quarrel the same as before. Foster kept a cow and the family of his Indian neighbor, as well as then white residents, were supplied with milk free of charge. But such articles as Foster had to bring into the woods, he would make a charge for. On one occasion when he very civilly asked the Indian to settle the account the became very abusive and made a positive threat against the life of his kindhearted old neighbor.

"In July, about two moths before his death," says Simms, "Drid was returning from a hunt in company with a white hunter named Carpenter, who frequented the tract. As they drew near the upper clearing the Indian discharged his rifle and reloaded and carefully primed it. His companion inquired why he die it, saying he would not find game so near the clearing. 'Me going to shoot Ole Foster,' answered Drid, and he did go to the Foster dwelling, and standing some distance from the door, he hailed several times to draw Foster, if he was in the house, to an exposed situation. The halloo was answered by Mrs. Foster, who was alarmed when she saw the threatening attitude of her dusky neighbor. He inquired for her husband, and being told he was not at home, he exclaimed as he turned to go, 'Me shoot him if he had been.'"

The next morning the family of Drid being out of provisions, applied as usual, to the foster for food. Being informed by his wife and Carpenter of the Indian's conduct of the night before, Foster took some flour and, accompanied by Carpenter, sought the red man's shanty to relieve the wants of his family and to question him in regards to his conduct the previous night. In the presence of the witness he asked Drid if he had not called at his door the night before, intending to shoot him. The Indian readily admitted that he had, and assigned as a reason that he had threatened to kill him. 'I made no such threat,' said the old man, warmly; 'I simply said that it wouldn't be well for you to take my boat again and leave it a mile from the dam with a hole in her bottom.'"

Sometime after the above incident, the Indian was at the Foster dwelling with one or two of the neighbors, when the old trapper again asked him to pay his account. The Indian instantly flew into a passion, exclaiming, "You a d--d liar, me don't owe you a cent," and raised his tomahawk to strike the old man, who quickly spring into his house, and reappeared instantly with his rifle in his hand, when his foe slunk back and exclaimed, "Foster, if ever you go to Eighth Lake, me kill you," and with many threats he went to his cabin.

Realizing that what was once his privilege in the woods, would not be tolerated now by law, Foster soon after the above occurrence, went to Justice of the Peace Joshua Harris, of Brantingham, twenty miles away, to swear out a peace warrant against the Indian; but the officer declined to issue one, saying that the Indian would be as likely to kill him is he did, as he was now to kill foster. It seems that Drid was well known to the people in that part of Lewis county, and I have ascertained that he frequently tramped out of the woods to the settlements for bartering and trading. The Justice advised Forest to remove himself and family from the forest.

"What!" exclaimed Foster, "after I've hunted the red devils there over thirty years, be scared away by one? If you won't give me protection, then I'll protect myself;" and with this decision he returned to the tract and continued his hunting and trapping.

The little community of twelve or fifteen souls, composed of the Foster, the three bachelors and the Indian's family, was occasionally visited by men who came to spend a few days or a week in hunting and fishing. They were generally residents of the towns on the borders of the wilderness in Oneida and Lewis counties. Parties of half a dozen men would come from Lowville or Boonville, spend the night with Foster, and make arrangements with him or his son to act as guide up the lakes. The bachelors also acted as guides to the visitors who occasionally came in. This may be regarded as the beginning of the present extensive excursions and trips to the Adirondacks, made by thousands every summer. It was also, I believe, the beginning of the extensive system of guiding now maintained by a noble lot of fellows, as a whole, who make it their entire business the greater part of the year, to guide and assist the visitors about through the network of trails that now girdle the entire wilderness.

The journey into the wilderness, too, has been facilitated in recent years by the construction of the Adirondack and St. Lawrence, and Mohawk and Malone railways, whereby one may quickly and comfortably reach the heart of the mountain and lake region to enjoy the superb scenery, the invigorating atmosphere,and restful stillness of the grand and mighty district.

If he chooses, he may angle for the saucy trout, or hunt at the proper season, for deer; and yet, if not successful in either diversion, he should still be well satisfied and repaid by reason of his simple presence in that grand park of nature, which was successfully resisted, thus far, the vandal hand of man. It is to be hoped that the lawmakers of the State will take steps to properly protect and preserve it, both from destructive speculations in its wealth of timer, and from monopoly in ownership and control of its beautiful rivers and lakes, and boundless expanse of forests which should be kept open for use by all who wish to properly use the great park for rest and recreation.

Early in the month of September, 1833, four men in the town of Leyden, then on the edge of the wilderness, arranged to go to Fulton Chain on a salmon fishing trip. The party consisted of Jonathan Tyler, and his son Willis, Herman Thomas and Nelson Stimpson. They started for the chain on foot the morning of the 16th, and arrived at the old Herreshoff house in the afternoon. Foster was at home and gave them a hearty welcome. One or two of the party were well acquainted with him, while, one, Mr. Stimpson, had never met him before, thought, of course, thoroughly familiar with his name and reputation as a hunter and trapper. Mr. Stimpson, who is still living in the town of Leyden at the advanced age of ninety-three (1897) gives his first impression of the old hunter as most pleasant and favorable. He made them feel at home at once, and showed them about, explaining the interesting places in the clearing to those who were not familiar with them. He exhibited to the party several specimen proofs he had of his successful following of the chase. He had a large and varied collection of deers' antlers and many finely cured skins of wild animals. It is evident that the became an expert taxidermist in the course of his life; besides these skins, which he showed the visitors, he had the mounted skins of four panthers set up, on a row of ask barrels by the house. They appeared, Mr. Stimpson says, "as natural as life." Foster showed these specimens with pride, for they bore the mark of his bullets which had brought them to their death. "And each one," Mr. Stimpson declares, "had been shot right in the center of the forehead."

When Foster learned that the party came for salmon fishing, he volunteered to accompany them up the lakes the next morning, which offer was gladly accepted, as he could show them the best places of casting. The old hunter entertained them during the evening with reminiscences of his life and adventures. The stories he told, the reader is familiar with as being already given in other parts of this book. Indeed, I was much surprised and pleased when I came to interview Mr. Stimpson, to have many of the adventures of Foster I had already obtained from various sources, retold to me by him, and without my interrogation, as stories told him and his party by foster himself at this time. Thus, "in the mouths of two or three witnesses," they are established.

The night before the eventful day on which Foster shot Drid, was the one the fishing party arrived on the tract. Among other adventures which Foster related were several of the Indian stories I have given, which he told in his usual guarded manner, so as not to incriminate himself. The conversation drifted to the subject of Indians in general, however, and then Foster told them that there was one "red devil" on the tract at the time who was giving him a great deal of trouble, and that "if he could catch him out anywhere he would put him where the dogs wouldn't bit him." No one of the party doubted but that he would do this, though they little thought they would see him do it. There is no doubt but that Foster had decided to kill the Indian Drid, having failed to get a precept from the law against him. But it is doubtful if he intended to shoot him in as open a manner as he did the next day, although he was convinced that he had to meet and settle with the enemy somewhere, as he had been compelled before to shoot many another Indian in the depths of the forest where no eye of man would observe his slaying his enemy, and about which there would be no questions asked when the savage did not appear at his usual haunts. But he failed to follow this usual course, and instead, shot his foe on the principal waterway of the tract, and when there were many witnesses of the deed. This brought him for the first time into serious conflict with the law, and brought about his only indictment and trial for killing an Indian.

The men of the fishing party retired late, but arose early in order to get an early start. After breakfasting they started, accompanied by Foster. When they arrived at the middle clearing, he asked the party to stop while he would inquire if Wood and Chase were ready, as he knew they were going up the lakes that morning, and he thought they might all go together. So he paused outside of the bachelors' lodge, settling their packs down for a rest while he entered the domicile. He found the bachelors eating their breakfast, while seated on the wood box by the fireplace, smoking his pipe, was his hated enemy Drid. He had some traps which he wished to get at Raquet Lake, and had invited himself to accompany Wood and Chase as far as they went. Foster took no notice of him, however, but entered into conversation with the others about the fishing party outside, and inquired when they would be ready to start. Wood told him in about an hour or possibly less, and Foster turned to go, when the Indian started up and blurted out, "Foster, you old cuss, what for you call me rascal the other day?" Foster thinking to turn the question away, answered in a jocular manner, "Because I was a mind to;" but this appeared to only inflame the Indian to action, and he sprang upon Foster. He was a lithe, muscular fellow, and only about twenty-five years old, but in spite of this advantage, he could not master the old man who clinched him. The bystanders quickly separated them, Drid calling loudly for his tomahawk, and Foster for his rifle; he was excited by this time, and as he regained his feet, he exclaimed, "You want to pick a quarrel with me this morning, you black - - - - -?" When the Indian, who had shaken off those who had pulled him away, sprang at the old man, this time with his knife drawn. His quick and unexpected attack took Foster by surprise, and he was borne to the floor by the Indian, who was just about to plunge his knife into the old man's heart, when Wood struck his hand, and the knife inflicted only a flesh would on Foster's wrist. Again the Indian was seized and pulled away, swearing like a pirate, exclaiming at the end of a horrid oath, "Foster, you old cuss, you no live till Christmas;" and Foster, whose worst passion was aroused, retorted, "and you'll do d----d well if you live to see another moon."

He now joined the waiting and anxious fishermen, who had been alarmed, as well they might be, by the tussles and loud talking going on in the house. He procured some cloth from one of them and bound up his wrist, telling them they must go on without him, as he would not think of going up the lake that day. Leaving them, he started towards his own home. They watched him until he was hid from view by the trees, when they gathered up their things and started for the dam. They had gone but a few rods, however, when the report of a rifle up the road started them. It was evidently fired by Foster, and they wondered if he had seen a deer to shoot. It was Foster's rifle they heard, but it was not a deer that caused the old hunter to discharge his piece. He had simply rid it of its present charge, to carefully load it for game of another kind.

His mind was thoroughly settled. He must shoot the Indian ere he returned from his trip up the lakes or he would shoot him, or possibly murder him in his bed; for the Indian had threatened several times to enter Foster's dwelling in the night and stab him as he was sleeping. He now loaded his trusty rifle with two balls, and making a detour through the woods, he came out on the road ahead of the fishermen. When he reached the dam, he crossed to the north side of the river, and made his way through the forests to a point on the river, just below First Lake, where the boats, as they came up, had to pass. Taking up a position on this point among some bushes and between two large hemlocks, he waited the arrival of the party.

The fishermen reached the dam without incident, and there waited for the arrival of Wood and Chase for instructions as to what boat to take. In due time they arrived, accompanied by Drid, who was still swearing vengeance at Foster, and was half inclined to abandon his trip to Raquet Lake and return to Foster's house to shoot him. He was dissuaded from this course, however by Wood and Chase, who prevailed on him to accompany them, and by doing this, instead of preserving, as they thought, the safety of Foster, they only lured the Indian to his own death. After some delay in getting ready they all left the dam, Drid in a light bark canoe, Wood and Chase in a large bark canoe, and the fishing party in a wooden boat.

It is a twenty minutes' row from the dam at the Old Forge to Indian Point. At length the little fleet of boats drew near. Wood and Chase had some traps on shore here, and they and the Indian ceased paddling to put in and get them, while the fishing party continued on up the stream. As they neared the point, Mr. Stimpson, who sat in the stern of the skiff, espied Foster standing bareheaded among the bushes on the extreme end of the point, his rifle in his hand. Though surprised at seeing him there, when he had apparently gone home an hour before, Stimpson knew at once what he was there for, and apprised the other occupants of the boat of the old hunter's presence on the point. Instantly aware of the tragedy that was to be enacted, the rowers nervously but quickly pulled the boat past the point, while all excitedly awaited the event. As they rounded the point, Stimpson turned in his seat in the stern of the boat, and motioning to Wood and Chase, pointed to the shore, and they, too, as they paddled to the shore, saw Foster farther out at the point. Knowing what object brought him there they got their traps without a moment's delay and pushed out into the stream.

The Indian now guessed from the actions of the members of the fishing party and the conduct of Wood and Chase, as they hastily got their traps, that the man he feared was on the point, and he changed the position of his canoe so that it was on the south side of the trappers' canoe, and his own body midway between theirs.

"Although Foster was several rods distant from the canoes," says Simms, "still the position of his foe did not secure his safety. As they rounded the point the Indian's eye caught a glimpse of the fearful figure in the bushes just as the rifle was poised, and he threw up his arms in terror, at the moment of the explosion. Both bullets entered his left side near the armpit, passed through his heart and went out below the right arm. They entered at the same spot, but left two places of egress opposite. The Indian fell backwards, with his head and shoulders in the water, his feet and legs remaining in the canoe. He fell so dead that his position remained unchanged, the fairy craft preserving the cradling motion communicated to it by the fall, for some time after the spirit of its owner had winged its flight."

To range the circuit of the sky.

Wood and Chase, who really saw the shooting, and the members of the fishing party who, from their position on the river beyond the point, only heard the report of the rifle, but knew its significance, were, according to their own testimony at the trial, "perty badly frightened," so much so that one of the fishing party did not visit the chain again in ten years.

As soon as the echoes from the old hunter's rifle, which had brought down its last Indian, had died away, Wood and Chase set up a great hallooing to the fishing party to come back, as there was a dead man in the river. They obeyed, though reluctantly, for they did not wish to be mixed up in the affair; for as Mr. Stimpson expressed it, "it was going to spoil our fishing trip." When they arrived at the scene Foster had disappeared, and Wood and chase were ashore. They, anxious to free themselves from any future complications, now discharged their guns to show the fishermen that they had not fired the shot that brought death to Drid. They then had a consultation, as to the disposition of the Indian's body. Some said it ought not to be disturbed until it was viewed by a coroner; while other pronounced that as absurd, as it would take at least two days to notify a coroner and get him onto the tract, during which time the body would become loosened from the canoe and float away. They were not able to arrive at an agreement, and so returned to the dam, and concluded to do what was a little ironical; that was, to ask Foster's advice.

Wood and young Tyler went to his house for this purpose, leaving the rest at the dam. The distance from the point where the shooting occurred to the dam is greater by water than a direct route on land, and Foster, having traversed the land route, returned home before the others had returned to the dam. He had wiped out his rifle and changed his clothes ere the messengers arrived. Some say he shot a deer on the way home and had it dressed and hanging in front of his house when they arrived. But I have not been able to verify this statement. They found the old man resting on a bed; he had on his best suit of clothes and a linen shirt with an old fashioned starched collar. He appeared to have made himself ready for going out of the woods at once. He expressed surprise at seeing Wood and Tyler, and inquired what brought them back. They replied that Drid was dead up the river and they did not know what to do about getting the body down, and had come to ask his advice what to do. The old man expressed no surprise at the announcement of the Indian's death; but did so at their being afraid to touch the body. He told them they should have no hesitancy about getting it to the landing, and offered to go with them and assist. The messengers agreed to this and he arose and accompanied them to the dam.

When they arrived, all but Stimpson and the elder Tyler embarked in the skiff the fishing party ahd used, and with Foster in the stern steering they rowed to the scene of the shooting. They found the body still floating as it fell, with the legs in the canoe. Even then all but Foster declined to touch it, and so, while the others held the canoe, he got the corpse back into it, and they then towed it to the dam, where the tiny craft with its gory cargo was made fast to the landing, and a blanket procured and thrown over it. The matter of notifying a coroner and justice was then talked over with Foster and they all agreed to go out the next day.

The fishing party, to whom the events of the day had brought an abrupt ending of their plans, again stayed with Foster over night, and he entertained them as on the previous evening with stories of his adventures in the woods.

One of the striking things to be noted in connection with the conduct of all after the tragedy, is, that no mention was made by any one, of how Drid came to his death. Foster neither feigned ignorance or intimated the least knowledge of it. He followed the course any attorney would have told him to, and set the seal of silence on his lips. The next day all tramped out of the woods, Foster being in as jovial and good-natured a mood as any, telling them, as they passed a ledge of rocks, of how he had shot a panther and deer there. The house of the first officer of the law they reached after an eighteen mile tramp was that of Justice Harris, who had refused a few months before to issue a peace warrant to Foster against the Indian he had now slain. They found Harris at home and the witnesses related the affair to him and asked him to issue a warrant for Foster's arrest. But to his credit be it said, that though he had shown his weakness of character in not granting a peace warrant to Foster against the Indian, now showed his friendship for Foster by refusing to cause his arrest, referring them to a justice who lived a few miles farther, and had Foster stay with him. The rest of the party continued on their journey until they came to the home of Justice Lyman R. Lyon, to whom Harris had referred them. But he, too, declined to issue a warrant for the old hunter, who was a friend of his, and referred them to still another justice, Segar, in the town of Turin. They found Justice Segar, afterwards a judge, at home. After hearing the facts of the case he issued a warrant for Foster and detained the whole party over night at the public house as witnesses. In the morning he dispatched a constable to the home of Harris to arrest Foster. The officer returned about noon with his prisoner, who came willingly, and cheerfully submitted to the examination. Court was convened in the sitting room of the tavern, and after the witnesses had been sworn and testified, Foster was remanded to jail in the village of Martinsburg.

It is presumed that a coroner was sent to the Old Forge and viewed the remains of the Indian and then buried them, though I have been unable to ascertain as to this. Simms says in his book that the body was buried the day of the shooting and that Foster assisted. But Mr. Stimpson declares that the body was left in the canoe, covered with a blanket; and it must have been buried by the coroner, or under his direction, by either Willard Johnson or Foster's son David, who where the only men left on the tract when the others went out. A brother of Drid came to the Forge from Canada soon after the shooting. They belonged to the St. Regis tribe. He took up his brother's body and re-interred it in Indian style. Drid's squaw, it is said, manifested no emotion at her husband's death, and the nearest approach she showed to any interest in his body, was to cut out the pieces of blanket which contained the bullet holes for keepsakes, when the re-interrment took place. Her brother-in-law took her and her children, of which she had a number, back to Canada with him. The grave of this last Indian Foster shot was to be seen near the shore at Old Forge for many years. The mound was marked by a cross bearing the simple inscription of "Pete." In recent years it has been neglected, and when I visited Old Forge in 1895, I found it covered with a pile of lumber, the product of the sawmill still maintained there. If resorted and marked it would be an interesting feature of the place.

Times had changed. The law had penetrated even to the heart of the Adirondack wilderness. Foster was well aware of this, as we can see by his long toleration of the Indian's insolent conduct. Foster did not remain long in the Martinsburg jail. The shooting occurred in Herkimer county, and so his friends in Salisbury, to the number of one hundred, went to Martinsburg and took him to the Herkimer county jail, in the village of Herkimer, where he remained until his trial. He was indicted for murder at the court of General Sessions convened in Herkimer on February 3d, 1834. He was arraigned for trial September 3d, of the same year, in the Circuit Court of the county. Although the trial lasted but two days, it attracted great attention, for Foster was very popular all through that part of the county. The account of the trial as given in Simms' book is quite interesting. The prosecution had first to prove that Foster really fired the shot which brought death to the Indian. This was not actually proven by direct evidence, so skillfully did the defense cross examine the witnesses presented by the people. Neither Wood or Chase of any member of the fishing party were able to swear that they saw the discharge of Foster's rifle, though all had seen him on the point, immediately before the Indian was killed. They all heard a shot and Wood and Chase saw the Indian fall, but no one saw Foster shoot. From this the attorney for the defense very suavely argued that the Indian might have been killed by a stray shot from a hunter in the woods. For the defense it was an easy matter to present evidence to prove the quarrelsome disposition of the Indian. Any number of hunters and other were in the court room ready and willing to testify to this. Next, the threats and attacks the Indian had made on Foster's life, particularly the one of the morning he met his death, was brought into evidence. Concerning the admission of this evidence presented by the defense, Mr. Snyder says:

"The court was composed of Hon. Hiram Denio, presiding, who was one of the great judges of the State, and Jonas Cleland, of Warren, John B. Dygert, of Frankfort, Abijah Osborn, of Herkimer, and Richard Herrenden, of Newport, were the side judges of the Common Please. When the defense was reached, one of the witnesses was asked, 'Did you ever hear this Indian threaten to kill Foster?'" To this the District Attorney objected. Judge Denio held the testimony to be inadmissible, when much to his surprise and astonishment three of the side judges announced that it was admissible, thereby overruling Judge Denio's law. Under this ruling of the side judges, Foster was permitted to prove that the Indian had threatened to kill him. It is interesting to note that the Court of Appeals subsequently in the Fisk-Stokes murder case, substantially affirmed the law promulgated by these side judges."

The summing up of Foster's attorney, Mr. E. P. Hurlbut, is said to have been a masterly effort, full of pathos and tender references to the aged prisoner at the bar. Many were moved to tears by his eloquence.

In his charge the Court advised the jury that "the law applied to the region of the country where the offense was committed. In regard to the race to which Peter Waters, the person named in the indictment, belonged," he said, "No one could take the life of such a one without such reasons as would authorize the taking the life of any other human being." His charge rather argued for conviction in some degree of murder or manslaughter. The jury retired and after a short deliberation returned. As the jurymen entered and took their seats, the crowded court room became hushed.

The moment, even more than is usual on such occasions, was one of intense interest. To so great a tension had the feelings of the old hunter been drawn by the excitement of the trial, that he now seemed hovering between life and death, and was insensible during the interrogation of the jury.

Gentlemen of the jury," said the clerk, "have you arrived at a verdict?"

"We have," answered the foreman, "we find the prisoner not guilty."

A murmur of applause ran through the crowded chambers, but Foster was unconscious of it all. It was with considerable difficulty that he was roused to consciousness, so as to understand his fate. When the words "Not Guilty" had been repeated to him several times, he appeared to realize their meaning, and rising up, he seized Mr. Hurlbut, his chief counsel, with a grip which the Judge used afterward to say was "more than powerful," and straining him to his breast, exclaimed, "God bless you," then releasing his hold, he turned, and he stretched out both hands wide over the heads of the people that filled the court room, and exclaimed "God bless you all, God bless the people." His friends who were jubilant over the verdict then seized him, and placing him on their shoulders, marched in triumph through the streets of the village. Mr. Hurlbut and Foster never met again; as the old trapper soon after left the state. Mr. Hurlbut's fee for conducting the defense was fifty dollars, which Foster left with his son Amos, to give to his attorney. It was considered liberal compensation for those days.

The closing years of Foster's life were as peaceful and uneventful, as they well deserved to be. He had sold his farm at Salisbury to his son Amos in the summer preceding his trial. After his trial he spent sometime with his married children, after which he went with his wife to Wilkesbarre, Pennsylvania, where some of his relations lived. Simms says he was afraid to remain in the country after killing the Indian at Old Forge. But this is highly improbable, as he had shot too many Indians in his days to be afraid of any of Drid's friends wreaking vengeance on him. It is true that he visited Fulton chain but a few times after he shot Drid, but this was merely precautionary. He spent most of his time before going to Pennsylvania with his daughter Jemima, in the town of Ava, which was then on the very edge of Brown's Tract, and never displayed any fear of being molested.

Even in his new home in Pennsylvania, he continued to hunt a little. In his seventy-third year he shot a small deer about a mile and a half from his home. As of yore, he threw the carcass across his shoulders and started for home, but as he was ascending a hill a quarter of a mile from his house, he was taken with a severe pain in his chest, and distinctly felt something "give way," as he expressed it, in the region of his lungs. He struggled home, and fell fainting on the door steps, bleeding from the mouth. He rallied in a few days, and realizing that he could not live long, declared he must go to his daughter Jemima to die. Accordingly, as soon as he was able, he and his wife started on the long journey. The journeyed by water as far as Rome, N. Y., where they procured a horse and driver, who took them to Ava, a distance of fourteen miles. They arrived at the home of his son-in-law David Edgerton, the husband of Jemima, considerably after dark; and wishing to have some fun with his children, the old man sent the driver into the house with instructions of ask "for lodging for two old people who had made a long journey that day, and could go no farther." After some demurs, Mr. and Mrs. Edgerton finally said, that if it would be any accommodation to the aged travelers, they would take them in, but still they said they did not see any reason why they should not go to the tavern. The driver urged them, however, and they finally gave a decisive and affirmative answer, when he withdrew and brought in Mrs. Edgerton's parents. Great was their rejoicing, and the rejoicing of their children, with whom they were great favorites, especially grandpa, because of the stories he used to tell them before he went away.

The old hunter lived less than a year after his return to Ava. On the 14th of March, in 1840, a sudden change came over him, which even his young grandchildren were able to detect, by his changed demeanor; the absence of his cheery words, and kindly attentions. His iron constitution had worn out, and the mechanism of his being was now propelled only by the momentum given to it by its years of ceaseless activity. Preparations were quickly made for his tender care, by the loving ones who surrounded him. A bed was prepared for him in the living room of the house, while the members of the household vied with each other in their effort to make everything quiet and comfortable for "grandpa."

The end came speedily. On the morning of the 16th they saw it was approaching. Neighbors and friends gathered in kind solicitude. His faithful wife sat by his bedside; his daughter Jemima by the fireplace, with her youngest child, a boy of three years, on her knees. The little fellow slipped from his mother's knee, and approached the bed on which the dying hunter lay; he stopped in the middle of the room, when some one picked him up and carried him to the bedside, that he might see his grandfather once more. The old hunter recognized the child, and his eyes lit up with a gleam of pleasure, and he was gone.

And so he passed away; with the March wind howling without, but with the cheerful singing of a kettle hanging from a crane over the fire within, his loving friends and family breathing prayers for him, his own face illumined with a smile of peace. In the midst of such peaceful and hallowed surroundings, the old hunter and trapper went to meet his God.

Thus do we leave him, the hero of so many and gallant exploits. A hero, not because he killed a few Indians, whose rights have always been trampled upon; but a hero because of the sturdy character he developed and displayed in maintaining his own rights, as he saw and understood them; fearing, as his father had taught him, not the face of clay, but only the face of him in whose hands we leave him, who set his mark on the murderer Cain, and who extended mercy to Moses who slew a man, and concealed the body in the sands of the Egyptian plain.

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