Part 11

They were four days distant, up river, when the first news of them was heard; and it was bad news, for the French were many, in many boats with cannon.

Ensign Ward sent a runner to tell Captain Trent at Will’s Creek; and he sent the Hunter to bring Tanacharison and Scarouady for council.

“If you mean to fight off the French,” said Tanacharison, “you should at once build a high fence, with a ditch, and stay behind it, where you can move about. Else you will be shut up in these little houses and the French will knock them to pieces over your heads with their great guns. Where is Fraser? He has more experience than you.”

“I will get him,” answered Ward. So he went up to John Fraser’s trading place, eight or ten miles south; and Lieutenant Fraser said he could not leave his business――he knew that the French were near, and he did not see that anything could be done.

“Then I will build a stockade and wait; for I think it a shame to draw off before the French, as the rest of you have done,” Ward answered angrily. “The Indians will think us cowards.”

The men worked very hard, building a stockade of sharpened pickets, with a ditch inside it, in a good place. This last morning which was the morning of April 17th, White Thunder’s pretty daughter Bright Lightning borrowed Robert’s horse to ride up to Shanopin’s-town. Nobody could refuse Bright Lightning anything.

“Maybe I will see the French,” she said. “These English see nothing. They have no scouts out. I wish I were a warrior.”

“Well, you can marry a Delaware and perhaps some day you will be a woman sachem like old Allaquippa, and smoke a pipe,” Robert teased.

“Wah!” exclaimed Bright Lightning. “She is ugly and fat. When I tell you the French are coming, then I’ll know whether you and your Long Knife Americans are warriors, yourselves.”

Bright Lightning rode off astride. She had been gone only two hours when back she galloped――――

[Illustration: BRIGHT LIGHTNING RODE OFF ASTRIDE]

“I have seen the French! The army of Onontio is near, in boats.”

“Where?”

“Above Shanopin’s-town. The boats are like leaves upon a stream in Falling Leaf month.”

“If she speaks the truth, we will see,” said Tanacharison. “If she does not speak the truth, she shall be punished, but there is no harm in finishing the stockade.”

The Ward men worked harder than ever. They had just put up the gate that closed the last opening when, at noon, the French fleet did sweep around the bend at Shanopin’s-town, two miles up the Allegheny.

It was the army from Fort Le Boeuf! Wah! How many? Almost four hundred boats, small and large, blue with soldiers and bristling with muskets!

The French made a fine landing at the Forks and marched right in, to halt beyond musket shot while an officer came on with a white flag and two Indians. He wished to talk. Taking Tanacharison and the Hunter, Ensign Ward went out from the stockade and met him.

The Indians were French Iroquois, named Owl and Two Drums. Owl spoke English, so that Robert had only to listen and know that his words were the true words.

“I am Captain de Mercier,” said the officer, through Owl. “My commander the Chevalier de Contrecoeur directs that you retire at once with your men from this land belonging to the King of France; and by this belt of wampum he bids the Half-King, whom I see with you, do the same.”

“And what if we decline?” answered Ensign Ward, standing bravely.

“You will suffer the consequences of your rashness,” replied the French officer. “We will take possession just the same.”

Looking past him they could see great guns being unloaded from the large boats and dragged in shore.

“I must have a little time to think,” said Ensign Ward.

The French officer looked at his watch, and he said:

“It is near two o’clock. By three o’clock you must appear at my commander’s camp with your reply in writing, or we shall proceed against your works.”

Tanacharison broke into a rage and threw the wampum belt upon the ground.

“You tell your captain chief I do not know him. There is his belt. He has no rights here, to order me or the English what to do. This is not French land. It is Iroquois land, and my land. I invited the English to come upon it; I ordered a fort to be built and I laid the first log.”

But the officer only turned upon his heel and strode away, together with Owl and Two Drums.

Ensign Ward, very red and walking stiffly, went back to the little stockade, where the men had been watching and waiting. It was plain to be seen that he did not know what reply to make. He showed good sense, though, for he held council with Tanacharison and Scarouady and White Thunder, who were older than he. The Hunter and John Davidson translated such words as might not be understood.

“I wish to know what you would do if you were in my place,” he said, to Tanacharison. “I am alone here, with only forty men, of whom but thirty-three are armed. I have no cannon, and but little provisions for a long fight.”

“The French number a thousand, with great guns,” Half-King answered. “Where is your captain, with guns and men, that he does not come to help you?”

“I sent word to him four days ago,” said Ensign Ward. “I know nothing about him.”

“It is a strange thing in Assaragoa to put a handful of men under somebody of no experience in the midst of the woods and leave them to the French,” declared White Thunder. “Where is Washington? He does not fear the French, but that man Trent has gone home a second time without even seeing the French.”

“Do the Mingos tell me to fight the French, and that they will help?” Ensign Ward asked quickly.

“What does Scarouady say?” said Tanacharison.

“Wah!” replied Scarouady――he of the tattooed chest and cheeks. “Were we to fight the French we should have fought them on the river where they could not use their great guns. Then they would have turned back. To fight them now requires a council, and plans; and they have Iroquois brothers with them. That is how it seems to me.”

“Listen,” bade Half-King; and he spoke wisely: “The French may not wish to fight. If they fire and kill men, that means war with the King across the water. This is not Onontio’s land; it is land given to the English for a fort, and the English are here first. To drive them off is war, but to talk is not war. Now I think that Ward should say to the French: ‘I am only a small chief, put here to build a trading house upon land given by the Iroquois, and I know nothing of any wrong in the matter. So I cannot make answer without orders from my captain chief. But my captain chief will be here within a day or two, and he will talk with the French captain.’

“That is how Washington and I were treated at Venango and Fort Buffalo,” continued Half-King. “The French will see that you are speaking the truth; and while they are waiting Washington will be coming, and he will attack them from behind while you fight them from in front.”

“That’s good sense,” approved John Davidson.

This answer Ensign Ward decided to make, when the hour was up. Then Tanacharison took the Hunter aside.

“Quick!” he said. “We cannot depend on that man Trent. Do you set out on foot so you will not be seen; find Washington and give him this belt, and say to him: ‘Your brother cries to you from the depths of his heart and bids you come at once to his assistance or we all are lost and may never meet again.’ Tell that to Washington and to no other. He shall be our hope.”

Robert the Hunter turned around and ran through the stockade, to get out by the back. Men would stop him with questions but he paid no heed, for the words of Tanacharison were repeating in his mind. He dived past the gate sentinel, and was outside, when somebody called. It was Bright Lightning running after.

“Wait! You are running away, Hunter?”

“Think so if you like,” he answered. “Goodby.”

“No,” panted Bright Lightning. “You do not run away. You go to bring Washington. I guessed. Take this, for the long trail.” And she handed him a piece of dried venison and a little bag of parched corn. “Hurry!”

And he hurried on, feeling grateful to Bright Lightning. She was a good girl. He would not tease her any more.

At first chance he plunged into the forest, upon shortest trail to Washington. Whether the French would let Ward stay, he did not know. Perhaps the Long Knives and the Mingos would try to fight the French――he could see that Tanacharison was much worried. This he did know: he had more than one hundred miles to travel, and the piece of meat and the parched corn would help him a great deal.

When on the evening of the fourth day from the Forks the Hunter trotted afoot down to the mouth of Will’s Creek he was very tired and the belt about his stomach was very small; for he had slept little and his meat and parched corn were gone. He had stopped only to rest, and not to hunt. But that which he now saw gladdened his eyes.

Around the Ohio Company’s log storehouse in the clearing along the Potomac where Will’s Creek entered there were a large number of tents, and many men were moving about. It looked as though he had met Washington.

He panted in among the tents. The soldiers and other men, most of them poorly dressed and doing nothing, stared at him or laughed as if they thought him only an Indian boy coming to beg. And then he espied somebody he knew.

It was the fat Captain Vanbraam, of Dutch Land, who had been left behind on the trail from Venango last winter.

“Ho,” cried Robert. “Vanbraam! See me.”

“What iss?” answered Jacob Vanbraam. “Oh! Eh? Yah! It is our Injun boy again. Where you come from now? You want me?”

“I want Washington. Where is Washington?”

“Yes; Washington, of coorse. He is not to be boddered. Eh? What? You tired? Hungry? Somebody chase you?”

“I bring words,” said Robert. “From Tanacharison. Where is Washington?”

“Oho!” quoth Jacob Vanbraam. “Den come along. I take you.”

Captain Vanbraam strutted off with Robert at his heels; and saluting at the open flaps of a tent guarded by a soldier, said:

“Here is one to see you, colonel.”

George Washington replied:

“Let him come in.”

Washington, in red uniform, was sitting upon a stool at a little table, writing in the dusk; when he saw the Hunter he stood up――his eye was quick, he knew that something was the matter, for with tired face suddenly made hard and sharp he uttered:

“The Hunter! You’ve been travelling――you bring news?”

“Tanacharison says to Washington: ‘Your brother cries from his heart to you to come quick and help us or all is lost and he may never see you again.’”

“What?” exclaimed Washington. “How’s that? Where are you from?”

“The Forks. The French come, one thousand. Tanacharison send me for Washington.”

“What did the French do? Where is Ensign Ward, who builds the fort?”

“Ward there. French there. Mebbe fight, mebbe not. French tell Ward to get out. Tanacharison say wait.”

“Hah!” exclaimed Washington. “You hear, Vanbraam?”

“Yes; and two days ago we hear dat Captain Trent and all was captured by the French. Den when we arrive we find Trent at dis Will’s Creek, and he knows nodding about it. He says he left Ward safe, and has no news. So what to belief? Mebbe all a scare.”

“I trust this boy, sir,” replied Washington.

“The word is true word,” said Robert. “I see the French. They are there, Washington.”

“When was it?” asked Jacob Vanbraam.

“Four days. I came straight.”

“Impossible. It is one hoonderd and fifty miles, by bad trail in bad wedder,” scoffed Jacob Vanbraam.

“I make own trail,” said Robert.

“You look it. You are tired, hungry too,” said Washington. “I thank the Hunter. Was the fort finished? Is it fallen?”

“Not finished. French say to go away in one hour. Tanacharison tell Ward to say he must wait for his chief.”

“Summon the officers for a council in my tent immediately, captain,” ordered Washington, of Vanbraam. “If the fort has surrendered we may expect Ward himself soon. The boy has evidently beaten any other messenger.”

Then he called in a black servant, and the Hunter ate, and answered more questions, and lay down to sleep in George Washington’s tent.

XIII

BATTLE AND VICTORY

Washington was going! Everybody soon believed the Hunter’s story, for Ensign Ward himself and his men came in. The French captain had not allowed him to wait, but had again ordered him off.

Tanacharison had sent Scarouady’s son the Buck, and Guyasuta the warrior with Ward, bearing another cry for help. The Buck had gone on with Ward, to the Governor; and Guyasuta had travelled back to the Half-King with an answer from Washington.

“We thank you for your friendship and your wise counsels,” Washington had said. “This young man will tell you that a small part of our army is marching toward you, clearing the road for our great guns and our supplies. I hope that you and Scarouady will meet me on the road as soon as possible to aid me with your advice. This string of wampum will remind you how much I am your brother and friend.”

The French at the Forks numbered one thousand, by best count; Guyasuta asserted that six hundred Chippewas and Ottawas were marching south through the Miami country, to join another army of French coming up the Ohio River.

Washington had been waiting here at Will’s Creek for pack horses that had been promised him. He ordered out sixty of his men to be widening and smoothing the Nemacolin Trail so that he could travel rapidly. But no pack horses were given him; so he found what wagons he could, and a few horses to draw them, and with the rest of his men, one hundred, he started. The Trent men would not march again, and had gone home.

His great guns had not come, either. The chief of all the Long Knife army being raised was Colonel Joshua Fry――the man who had talked for Virginia at the big council in Logstown summoned by Christopher Gist. Washington was second in command, and now Fry would follow with more men and the great guns. It seemed to Robert that for Washington to go against those many French and Indians in the woods, with only a company and a half, mostly ragged traders and settlers called “raw” (whatever that meant) by Jacob Vanbraam, was foolish.

But they were Long Knife Americans, and good shots, and Washington commanded. He had with him Jacob Vanbraam, and one Peyroney a French American, and several others who looked to be skilled warriors, for his officers; and with Tanacharison’s help maybe everything would be all right.

Anyway, he was going first to the mouth of Redstone Creek, where at the end of Nemacolin’s Trail the Trent men had built the trading house, and he would wait there for Colonel Fry and the great guns, before attacking the French.

Now again it was a hard march over the Savage Mountains, and over the Alleghany or Great Mountains, and across the Youghiogheny or Four Streams-in-One River, and through the Great Meadows and over the Laurel Hills, and past Gist’s place, to Redstone Creek at the Monongahela.

The sixty men sent ahead had been able to do little with the road; the horses for the baggage wagons soon gave out, and the men had to drag the wagons, themselves; so that after a week Washington was no further than Little Meadows, twenty or twenty-five miles from Will’s Creek.

The news was bad, brought by traders driven out by the French. The French had built a strong fort at the Forks. They had increased by eight hundred soldiers, and six hundred more soldiers were coming up the Ohio! One trader had met the French officer La Force and four French soldiers, from the Forks, scouting around Gist’s place and spying out the country. The French were buying the Delawares, Shawnees and Mingos with presents. But Tanacharison, said the trader, was marching with fifty warriors to join Washington; and that was good news.

As he marched, Washington left behind him a road smoothed for wheels, so that the great guns could be brought on swiftly. Therefore his march was slow. When he was forty miles from Will’s Creek the Buck met him, with fresh word from Tanacharison.

“The French army is coming to find Washington,” were the words now carried by the Buck. “Let Washington be on his guard against them. They intend to strike the first English that they meet. They have been on the march two days, but I do not know their number. I and my chiefs will be with Washington in five days.”

“Where is Half-King?” Washington asked.

“He is watching the French until his people get their corn planted.”

“What are the French at the Forks doing, then? Is it true that more men come in to them?”

“No,” said the Buck. “They are the same that made my brother the soldier Ward go away. But they have raised a fort with walls as thick as a man is tall, and have pointed their great guns at the woods and the river.”

“I ask you to go back and tell Half-King that you saw me,” said Washington. “I shall march on to the Great Meadows, and build a little fort, and wait the French. Tanacharison will find me there.”

The Great Meadows were eleven miles on across the swift Youghiogheny. The Washington men began to clear away the bushes and dig a ditch, and scouting parties searched about for the French.

“I t’ink dere is no French,” said Jacob Vanbraam. “Except at the Forks, where by most reliable report dey haf no more dan fife hoonderd to eight hoonderd men. Bah! Are we children, to be frightened by big talk?”

Then, late in the morning, Christopher Gist rode into camp from his place twelve or thirteen miles north, beyond the Laurel Hills. He must have had fresh news of the French, for very soon half the men, led by Ensign Peyroney, hastened out, as to war; and next Washington’s soldier messenger told the Hunter to come to Washington, quick.

“Listen, Hunter,” spoke Washington: “You shall find Tanacharison, who is coming, near Gist’s place, and bring him to me. But tell him to be very careful, for the French are at hand. Gist says the man La Force and fifty French were at his house yesterday while he was gone, and today he saw their tracks made in the night five miles from his place. I have sent men to chase these French; and if Tanacharison will come maybe we shall catch them. Do you be careful, too, that they don’t catch you.”

“They not catch me,” declared Robert. “I will be Indian.”

The day was rainy and dark. Robert the Hunter hastened out, to find Tanacharison. It would not do to take the little trader’s trail leading northeast over the Laurel Hills, for no doubt the French spies were lurking along it. Besides, Tanacharison, ’twas said, had moved from Logstown to the Monongahela south of the Forks, to plant corn in a place safe from the French soldiers.

Therefore the Hunter made his own trail; and travelling his best he struck the Monongahela, flowing leaden under the leaden sky; and after a long time he discovered the new and muddy cornfields of the Mingos, skirted by rude shelters from the weather.

Now it was afternoon, but no Tanacharison was here, nor was anybody here except women and a guard of a few old men.

“Tanacharison is gone,” they said. They were in bad humor. “What do you want of Tanacharison, boy? If you pretend to be a warrior instead of a white runaway you can follow his tracks and find him, but our business is to plant corn so we won’t starve while the French and the English are fighting.”

Old Juskakaka or Green Grasshopper was lying in his brush hut, sore with rheumatism. He scowled.

“Tanacharison is spying on the French,” said Juskakaka. “He took men and marched east this morning. He will do better to let the French alone and stay friends with them. The French are fortifying everywhere; the woods are full of their soldiers; and when they have whipped the English they will not bother the Mingo. You will be wise to wait for Tanacharison here. He may not thank you for chasing him up with trouble words from Washington who has only a few men and knows little of fighting.”

“I shall find Tanacharison,” said the Hunter, much to old Green Grasshopper’s disgust.

He circled out, like a dog, searching the ground; and finally he did come upon a warrior trail washed by the day’s rain. Wah! That was it. It pointed east, into the forest; and into the forest again plunged Robert the Hunter, using all his wits. He had been sent to find Tanacharison.

Now the trail proved to be long, as if the warriors had travelled rapidly; and it was cold and thin and hard to see; and the gloomy forest darkened with drizzle and early night, and the Hunter was tired and hungry when suddenly an Indian sprang up beside him.

And that was Scarouady. Ho!

Scarouady, in full war paint, had been lying like a panther beside the trail. He said severely:

“What do you do here alone in the woods, carrying your scalp in your hand?”

“I bear word from Washington to Tanacharison,” panted Robert. “The French are near.”

“That is no news,” Scarouady grumbled. “But come. The trail needs no more watching.”

The Hunter did not know where he was, exactly, until he had followed Scarouady to the warrior camp. This was in the lee of Big Rock――a high ledge upon the south slope of Laurel Hill. He had circled almost back to the Great Meadows.

Tanacharison and five or six Mingo warriors were sitting around a little fire that hissed in the pelting rain. The night promised to be bad.

Half-King listened to the word from Washington.

“Very well,” he said. “Maybe the English are going to do something at last. You wait here and eat and rest. The Buck and Guyasuta are out upon the fresh tracks of two French. We want to hear what they have to say.”

It was a miserable wait. The rain grew worse, the wind moaned, and the fire against the rock flared and sputtered. There were French somewhere near, preparing to attack Washington. Everybody knew that. Whether they would move in the rain, or would try to hide, had to be found out.

Half-King, and White Thunder (who was here) and the others, were in Mingo war-paint, like Scarouady. That looked serious. Sitting, the Hunter fished into the little hide sack that he carried inside his shirt, and he, too, daubed his cheeks with vermilion. He had told Washington that he would be Indian again; and now Indian he was.