I kept pretty near the boundary line.

I recollect getting lost one dark rainy night.

Not being able to find the road I came into an Indian settlement at the dead hour of the night.

I was wet, wearied, cold and hungry; and yet I felt afraid to enter any of their houses or wigwams, not knowing whether they would be friendly or not.
But I knew the Indians were generally drunkards, and that occasionally a drunken white man was found straggling among them, and that such an one would be more likely to find friends from sympathy than an upright man.
So I passed myself off that night as a drunkard among them.

I walked up to the door of one of their houses, and fell up against it, making a great noise like a drunken man; but no one came to the door.