Mary Cochrane Rogers, Rogers' Rock, Lake George, March 13…
“ Slowly the sun is setting over the mountain tops, gilding the lake below, as down the face of the precipitous rock for more than a thousand feet he slides in his snow shoes to the frozen lake below, and there, quickly changing his snow shoes for skates, glides over the vast white desert. Scarcely had he disappeared from sight when the foremost warrior reached the cliff sure of his prey—“No Roger!” There were his tracks! Other warriors came running up to the cliff sure of the prize—Rogers’ scalp—for the enemy dreaded him, and with reason—and gazed upon his tracks. ”
