Reseña del libro "Scalp Point (en Inglés)"
On our maps it was Crown Point, named, not, as men presumed, for the crown on the head of the nefarious French King Louis, but for the hair lifted from the heads of our people and carried there in triumph by the Indians. Thus, Crown Point became for us, Scalp Point. It was situated near the lower end of Lake Champlain and was the southernmost of the French defensive fortifications against our threatened incursions. It had been, even before the citadel was erected, the launching place for Indian raids, it giving them swift access to both our New England and New York frontiers. The raiders could travel the hundred miles from Montreal to Scalp Point without fear of interference from us, and from Scalp Point, waterways and trails led off to all the places they raided. And raid they did, for more than a century. We Americans, fighting alongside our British cousins, urged them to take the war to the French. Not until this place of the devil was eradicated could we live free from the awful attacks. But before the British could get there, they had to find their way through the woods, something they were entirely incapable of doing on their own. It was our job to get them there. We were rangers. Rogers' Rangers.
