young panthers were large enough to eat meat; they would find rabbits
and partridges, and would not starve.
So, well content, and wondering what Washington would say, he staggered
along. The raw pelt was heavy, the deer carcass weighed not a little,
the forest had waxed gloomy――and hark! Wolves howled! They were
scenting his bloody trail!
Wah! He dared not stop, for his leg would stiffen. He had no mind to
lose the pelt, or the deer. Ho! The camp could not be very far, but if
he shouted he might attract French Indians in addition to the wolves.
One never could tell. He knew a scheme, though. Thereupon he halted and
peeled off his hunting shirt; he hung this upon a bit of brush over the
deer carcass, to keep the suspicious wolves at a distance; he dragged
the panther skin on, for another trail, then he wrapped the skin about
his body for warmth, and with the long tail and the feet dangling he
limped at best pace to reach the camp. Let the wolves follow.
After a time he smelled smoke. A fearsome sight he was when he hobbled
in out of the darkness――a bare-headed brown boy clad from shoulders to
ankles in a flapping panther hide, his bow in his hand and his arms
smeared and his leg bloody. Wah!
“Wah!” uttered Tanacharison, and all. “The Hunter has taken a scalp!
Good!”
“Well done,” said Washington. “A large panther. The boy is a hunter.
But he is hurt. Sit down and let us look at that leg.”
“Where is the meat?” demanded Tanacharison.
“I left a deer in the brush, with my shirt on it to scare off the
wolves,” panted Robert. “It should be brought quick.”
Guyasuta was here. He had returned with nothing. Now he sprang up and
ran away, to back-trail to the deer carcass. The Hunter thankfully
sat down by the fire; he was proud, but he did not show it――he only
told about the fight, while they listened and John Davidson and Jacob
Vanbraam, helped by Washington, dressed his wound.
“He iss a brave boy,” Jacob Vanbraam declared. “He will make a soldier.
Yah! Now pretty soon coom a deer, an’ we eat.”
George Washington said little, but he nodded and gravely smiled.
VIII
WASHINGTON MEETS THE FRENCH
“The Hunter may ride my horse,” proposed Washington, in the morning――and
that showed his kind heart.
“No,” Tanacharison replied. “It is not seemly. The English chief cannot
march afoot in the mud. His feet will wear out. He is too heavy for his
horse to bear double; he is a large man. If the boy cannot walk, we
will make a litter for him; but I think that with a lift now and then
he will suffer no harm. The wounds of the young heal quickly, and he
must learn to endure like a warrior.”
It took five days to travel the seventy miles. In the afternoon of
the fifth day, while they were following a trail up along the black
Allegheny River, and the gaunt storm-drenched forest was darkening with
early dusk, they came to the edge of the trees and Tanacharison, in the
lead, said:
“Venango.”
“Gist, do you pitch camp in the cover of the woods,” Washington
ordered, “whilst I go in with Vanbraam and find the commander. Keep the
party together. We will spend the night here.” Then he looked at Robert
and saw that the leg was swollen and painful; so he added: “The young
Hunter with the panther-claw necklace shall come with me. These French
may have good medicine for his leg.”
“He may go,” Tanacharison now responded, pleased. “The leg needs rest
by a fire, indoors.” And he said to Robert, in Seneca: “You will stay
with Washington and learn what is done, so as to tell me.”
For Juskakaka and White Thunder, and even Half-King, were still
wondering what words Washington was bringing from the Governor of
Virginia. Perhaps a bargain was proposed, and the French were to have
one side of the Beautiful River and the English the other side, and the
Indians would have nothing――just as Captain Joncaire had threatened.
Washington and Vanbraam left their horses and with Robert went afoot
into the clearing. They saw before them a great log house, with smoke
pouring from the chimney. Separated from it were bark and skin lodges
of Delawares, Wyandots and French Indians who lived there. And beyond
the house and the lodges was a creek flowing into the Allegheny River,
both bordered by the stumps of the clearing.
But the log house was the main thing. Washington said suddenly:
“There’s a sight to heat the blood, Vanbraam.”
The wind, blowing gustily so that the forest moaned, had whipped a
flag, hoisted over the house, into plain sight, flat against the dun
sky. It was the flag of France.
“That’s likely the trading house Fraser built, and was driven from,”
continued Washington. “They’re bold fellows, those French, to fly
their flag in the territory of the King in America, and drive out his
American subjects.”
This was how it seemed to Robert also, limping on. The French were
bold; they travelled far through the woods, and paddled down the rivers
and up the rivers, and made merry. Nothing daunted them. And while,
of course, he was their enemy, he hoped that they would let him and
Washington and Captain Vanbraam in, for his leg was hurting cruelly.
Scarcely any sign of life, except the smoke, appeared in the clearing.
But now the Indian dogs began to bark, and evidently they three, maybe
all the party, had been seen; for when they were nearing the log house,
with Washington ahead, three men stepped out and came a little way to
meet them.
The three were French――French officers, by their laced uniform coats,
their swords and cocked hats. The first one, lean and active, and dark,
Robert knew at a glance.
Then Washington lifted his hat, and Captain Vanbraam stiffly lifted his
hat, and the three Frenchmen lifted their hats, so that the chief bared
his gray hair.
“I am Major George Washington of his Britannic Majesty’s Colony of
Virginia,” Washington said, for Captain Vanbraam to translate into
French. “Will you do me the honor to direct me to the commander of this
post.”
Bowing and smiling, the gray-haired, wiry man answered, in French that
Robert partially understood, because his mother spoke both English and
French:
“I have the great pleasure of presenting in myself Captain Chabert de
Joncaire, appointed to command for the King of France in the country of
the River Ohio.”
“Then I have a letter for you, as commander, from the Governor of
Virginia, sir,” announced Washington. “When I have delivered it at the
proper place, I am bidden to wait for an answer.”
“Oh, pardon, monsieur,” Captain Joncaire smiled. “How is the letter
addressed?”
“To the commander of the French forces upon the Ohio, sir.”
“Ah,” said Captain Joncaire. “It is official. In that case, monsieur,
I think it would better be delivered to the Chevalier Legardeur de
Saint-Pierre, my superior officer, at Fort le Boeuf.”
“And where is that, sir?”
“It is sixty miles to the north, up this Buffalo Creek which we call
French Creek, monsieur. A very bad trail. You should not try without
resting. You have come a long way to deliver a letter. The letter is
important?”
“It is important, sir.”
“Tomorrow, then, to Fort Buffalo, if you wish,” said Captain Joncaire.
“What terrible weather! And now will you and your companion do me the
honor to have supper with us. We have little――it is the fare of a
soldier, monsieur; but you are a soldier, so why do I apologize?”
“I accept with great pleasure, sir,” replied Washington. He introduced
Jacob Vanbraam, and Captain Joncaire introduced his two officers, and
there was much bowing and saluting and smiling on the part of the three
Frenchmen, Captain Joncaire in particular.
Captain Joncaire looked sharply at Robert.
“And who is this?” he inquired.
“An Indian boy whom I have with me,” said Washington. “His leg is hurt,
as you see, and I am trusting to get it freshly dressed by some of your
people.”
“He may go to the other Indians in those lodges yonder,” said Captain
Joncaire. “The Delaware women will dress it.”
“Your pardon, sir,” objected Washington. “I am responsible for him,
and as he is a boy I thought that he might have a corner near me in
quarters somewhat warmer than an Indian lodge.”
Captain Joncaire shrugged his shoulders and made a little grimace.
“Very well, Monsieur the Major. He may have his corner. But the place
for Indians and dogs is out of doors.”
That, coming from Captain Joncaire, who was part Indian himself,
sounded rather airy.
Now they all proceeded to the large log house. Once the Hunter had
thought Captain Joncaire, and Andrew Montour also, to be wonderful
persons. But beside Washington, dignified even in his soaked and ragged
clothes, and over-topping the three French by a full head, Captain
Joncaire and his officers looked small.
A huge fire was blazing hotly in the large main room of the old trading
house. There were benches, and a plank table set for supper. A Delaware
woman was sent for, and came and dressed Robert’s leg. Then at a signal
from Captain Joncaire and a nod from Washington he lay down out of the
way, upon a bear-skin, near the fire.
Servants began to add dishes and jugs and bottles to the other things
upon the table, and brought in roasts of bear, deer and turkeys, a
pudding, and heaps of little cakes, and jars of preserves――many things
that were strange to Robert, but all looking mighty good.
Candles in brackets were placed upon the table, and the glasses and the
dishes shone brightly. Washington and Jacob Vanbraam had removed their
heavy coats, and had washed. All sat down at the table. It was to be
a feast. Servants passed dishes to them, with meat that had been cut.
Never in his life had Robert the Hunter been so hungry. Then Captain
Joncaire, with a little cry――“Here, child!”――tossed him a meaty bone to
gnaw. But Washington said, politely: “With your permission, monsieur,”
and got up and coming with his own piled-up plate handed it to the
Hunter.
“This is yours, my brave boy,” he said. “I know what hunger is, myself.”
The Frenchmen stared as if they could scarcely believe their eyes.
Captain Joncaire laughed gaily.
“My word, monsieur!” he exclaimed in the French. “You have the grand
manner to an Indian whelp. But you omit. I, Captain, Chabert de
Joncaire, will supply. Here, Jacques――” and he filled a tumbler with
wine and passed it to a servant: “This for the young seigneur in the
corner, that he may drink to His Gracious Majesty the King of France.”
Washington stretched out his arm and stopped the servant, and set the
glass upon the table again.
“No, monsieur, if you please,” he said. He gazed straight at Captain
Joncaire. “Water is the sufficient drink, as I have found, myself; and
I would not wish to heat his blood.”
Again Captain Joncaire laughed. He and the two other French, and
Captain Vanbraam, touched water scarcely at all. They drank repeatedly
of wine and of brandy, while they ate; but Washington, the Hunter saw,
scarcely wet his lips except with water.
After a time the chatter had increased. The meats were removed, but the
liquors remained, and the cakes were passed. The three French were red
of face, and bright of eye; Jacob Vanbraam was a little flushed, but
not much so. Washington sat quietly, letting Vanbraam and the French do
most of the talking, and mainly bowing reply to a question or a salute.
He spoke no French; Jacob Vanbraam, however, spoke the French. Every
little while he uttered a sentence or two in English, that Washington
should know what was being said.
The Hunter was sleepy; but Tanacharison had bidden him keep his ears
open, so he only pretended to sleep.
The French were getting drunk and boastful. They talked rapidly,
sometimes all together, and Captain Vanbraam made them laugh with
his poor French, and they thought him drunk, too, and let him say to
Washington whatever he pleased.
“Down we go, in the spring,” bragged Captain Joncaire. “Down to the
Beautiful River. The English will be too late. They are slow. When they
would move their settlers in, they will be stopped by French forts.
They can do nothing. They have yet to cross the mountains, and we have
only to go down the rivers.”
“Yes, yes; but by what right do you enter the country of the Ohio,
gentlemen?” stammered Jacob Vanbraam.
“By the discovery by our great La Salle sixty years ago,” they babbled.
“The Mississippi is ours and all the land watered by the rivers flowing
into it. Huzzah! And what have the English? Nothing but their little
colonies along the sea, bounded by the mountains. All west of the
mountains, French.”
“So you deny their claim to land west of the mountains?” Jacob Vanbraam
queried.
“Yes, yes. What claim? A treaty with those Iroquois dogs who never
owned the land to give; and who besides are rightful subjects of
France and not of England! No, Monsieur the Captain――and you, Monsieur
the Major: the banner of France is to float over all the country of
the Ohio, and one year shall see it done, before you slow English in
America can cut your trails.”
“That will take many men, gentlemen.”
“Bah! Fifteen hundred. They are waiting. We have a line of forts
connecting us with Montreal, and supplies in store. We will meet our
men and supplies coming up from New Orleans, and thus we will possess
all the Ohio and the Mississippi. The Indians are joining France.
You English cannot win the Indians. Already the Miami have sued for
friendship.”
“How is that?” Washington asked, through Captain Vanbraam.
“Certainly,” prated Captain Joncaire. “The Miami have sent me two
English scalps and a belt of wampum, for their French father, as token
of their love. They see the strength of the French. The Delaware and
Shawnee and even your Mingo Iroquois of the Allegheny have come to our
camps and offered to help us march. The Sac, Potawatomi and Ojibwa
are enrolled on our side. Just previous to your arrival here a band
of Ottawa passed through with eight English scalps from below, for my
commander their father. Oh, you can do nothing with the Indians. They
are ours.”
That was stunning news. The Miamis first had vowed friendship to
Virginia and Pennsylvania; and now had turned around. Delawares,
Shawnees, and even some of the Mingos (said Joncaire) were helping the
French. And the Ottawas were on the war trail.
“But you are not drinking, Monsieur the Major,” Joncaire continued.
“The liquor of France is not to your liking?”
“The liquor may be excellent of the kind,” Washington answered. “But I
find the water excellent also.”
Then one of the two other officers said something quickly, and Jacob
Vanbraam as quickly translated again:
“He says you are too young and green to sit with men. You are a dolt.”
But Washington made no reply.
So the others chattered again, and drank, and laughed, their tongues
wagged, the smoke from their pipes formed a cloud; and amid the smoke,
the chatter and the warmth the Hunter, well fed, dozed upon his
bear-skin.
He roused, wakened by the scraping of the benches. This had signalled
to him that Washington was going. The candles were low in their
sockets, and the French and Washington and Jacob Vanbraam were upon
their feet――the French swaying foolishly. Up scrambled Robert himself,
throwing off his sleep.
“My thanks to you,” Washington was saying, for Jacob Vanbraam to
translate, “and my humble services. But I will sleep with my own men in
my own camp, as befits a commander. I already have fared better than
they.” He turned about, and saw the Hunter. “You may stay and sleep by
the fire, on account of your leg,” he bade, with a sign.
“Yes, yes. Certainly,” smiled Captain Joncaire, understanding the sign.
And he said to Robert in French: “The poor little boy shall stay with
his French brothers.”
Robert shook his head. He was afraid of these French, so polite and so
sure of themselves.
“I will go with Washington,” he announced in English. “He is my
captain.”
When Vanbraam translated, the French laughed more loudly than ever, and
Washington gravely smiled; and Robert followed him out into the cold
blackness, for the camp in the woods.
IX
HALF-KING CAUSES TROUBLE
Things were going badly for Washington. This second day at Venango the
rain poured down, so that the company could not start on. Tanacharison
had learned from the Hunter all that had been said and done in Captain
Joncaire’s house. He and Juskakaka and White Thunder and Guyasuta were
much impressed.
“The French,” said White Thunder, “know what they are about. They are
not afraid to talk right into the faces of the English. Now if they put
the English out of the land, and we have helped the English, we shall
have to pay.”
“That is how it seems to me,” said Green Grasshopper. “I am old, I have
seen many things happen, and when the Indian helps in a quarrel he does
well to help the stronger side. The white men are many. Let them fight,
and we should wait till we know what to do. All we want is our land.”
“The Governor of Virginia asked us to go with this Washington and
we have come,” said Tanacharison. “We made up our minds to give the
speech belts back to the French who have treated us like bad children.
We will do as we engaged to do. But I think it poor of Joncaire, who
pretends to be our brother, to leave us in the woods and never send us
anything to warm our stomachs. We are chiefs, as well as Washington
who sits at the feast table while we stay in the rain with our speech
belt. Washington says for us to beware of the French and their cunning
words. But we are not children, we are men.”
Washington had gone over to the house again, with Gist and Vanbraam.
Pretty soon there came to the camp a lieutenant from Captain Joncaire.
His name was La Force. He was a very lean, hungry-looking man, with
yellow skin and staring, sly black eyes. He asked for the Half-King,
and shook hands with him and Juskakaka, White Thunder and Guyasuta; and
said to them, in their language:
“Captain Joncaire your brother is much hurt that you stay away from
him. He has just heard that his brothers are here in the rain. He sends
me at once to beg that his brothers will come in to his fire.”
“Wah!” Half-King approved. “We will come.”
So they all went with La Force; which was bad, too. Captain Joncaire
gave them such a welcome, with his strong liquors, that they were made
drunk, and did not return to camp this night.
Washington was disgusted. The French had them. But in the morning
Tanacharison appeared, very sorry, when the camp was packing up.
“Now I am in my senses again,” he said to Washington. “Wait a little,
while I give the speech belt to these French.”
“This is not the place for giving back the speech belt,” replied
Washington. “That man Joncaire is nobody. You will only waste time and
we have no more time to waste. The place for delivering the speech belt
is at the fort above, where you will see the head chief.”
“No,” said Tanacharison. “You are young, you do not understand. This
place Venango is where the council fire with the French is kindled. I
know Joncaire. He is the man to talk to. I ask you to hear what I say
to him.”
“Have done with your foolishness, then,” answered Washington, growing
angry. “But I tell you he will not accept the belt.”
Just as Washington had warned, Captain Joncaire only listened, and
refused the speech belt.
“It is a matter in which I am not concerned,” he smiled. “My brother
should carry the belt to the father at Fort Le Boeuf. But there is no
hurry. The woods are cold and wet, and the fire at Venango is warm.”
“We will start,” said Washington, to Half-King.
“In a little,” Tanacharison pleaded. “King Shingis has ordered
Kustalogo the Delaware to deliver the Delaware speech belt, and I must
find Kustalogo.”
“That is nonsense,” uttered John Davidson. “Kustalogo has told you he
cannot make a speech for a king, and Shingis must deliver the belt
himself.”
Now if Tanacharison could only be got away from the presence of the
French he would be all right. Washington did not dare to leave him or
he would be made to believe lies, by the Kustalogo Delawares, and might
be kept all winter by the French. He was a fine man, Tanacharison was,
when he did not drink; but drink took his senses.
It was not until the morning of the fourth day that Washington at last
succeeded in finding Half-King and the three other Mingos sober and
ashamed. The march for Fort Le Boeuf began at noon. Captain Joncaire
sent La Force and three soldiers to guard Washington by the best
trail, and also to spy upon him.
The march up French Creek was even harder than the march from Logstown.
By this time Robert’s leg had healed nicely; but there was rain and
sleet, marshes blocked the way, the crooked creek, icy cold, had to be
crossed by swimming and wading. And the man La Force was constantly
trying to frighten the Mingos by telling them of the Miamis and
Delawares and Shawnees and of other Iroquois who had joined with the
French.
Tanacharison did not listen; but all this――the wet, the cold, and the
sly threats――Washington had to stand.
After seventy miles of winter travel, at nightfall of the fifth day
from Venango, they sighted Fort Le Boeuf, at the head of French Creek.
There it lay, Fort Buffalo of the French, on the other side of the
creek; and a powerful place it looked to be, rising from the snow
and mud, half surrounded by a curve of the sullen stream, with the
forest cleared to give it room, with its walls, twice a man’s height,
of flattened logs set on end, and sharp at the top, with great guns
peeping through at the stumps and the water, with long barracks and
many Indian lodges outside, and a host of canoes drawn up on the creek
banks, waiting for spring; and the French flag above all.
While they of Washington’s company forded the creek again, La Force
went before to tell the fort who was coming. When, wet and muddy, they
climbed out among the stumps, two officers of the fort came to meet
them.
Then in the dark they entered through the big gate, where a soldier
saluted. Camp was made. Wah! Here they were; but that had been a tough
journey.
Evidently this was an important fort, and business should not be
hurried. Washington was asked to wait until morning, when the commander
would talk with him.
The officers here were very different from the crafty, blustering
officers with Captain Joncaire; and the commanding chief, whose name
was Chevalier Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, proved very different from the
captain. He was a straight old man, with spick and span uniform, and
medals, and with white hair, and only one eye, the other having been
lost in battle.
He spoke a little English, and Washington spent a great deal of time
with him and the under officers, after having delivered the letter from
the Governor of Virginia.
But although they were good friends, it seemed, Washington was not
blind.
“While I am busy,” he said to Gist, “you have the Hunter count the
canoes on the bank. He is a boy and nobody will notice him.”
By knots in a string, one knot for every ten, Robert counted the
canoes. There were fifty birch-bark canoes, and one hundred and seventy
canoes of wood, besides many being built. In these the French were
going to descend the creek and the river, in the spring. That meant a
thousand men or more! Captain Joncaire had not lied.
The rains had changed to snow, and Washington was still waiting for
an answer to the letter from the Governor of Virginia, so that he
could start back. The horses were getting very poor, because there
was little feed for them. On the third day he sent them off, with the
packers, to Venango again.
“We will come down by canoe,” he said, “which the French have agreed to
furnish for us.”
Then he told the Half-King to deliver the speech belt, and get that
done with.
“Well,” said the Half-King, “I have the belt, and when the head chief
is ready I will give it to him. Let us not be in a hurry. You are
young, but the chief and I are old and wise. Meanwhile you are being
well treated and so am I. This place is a good place to stay, but the
way home is long and cold.”
There were other Indians and many half-breeds at the fort. They and
even the French soldiers kept inviting Tanacharison, White Thunder,
Juskakaka and Guyasuta to feasts, where much brandy flowed――a far
better drink, Tanacharison declared, than the rum of the English. So
that all were kept half drunk, and their ears were filled with stories
and warnings, and they were being urged to stay until spring at the
fort where they would be comfortable among their brothers.