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THE YOUNG AUCTIONEER.
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FIGHTING FOR HIS OWN.
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[Illustration: Col. Washington was in the thickest of the fight.--_Page
278._]
Colonial Series
WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST
OR
A SOLDIER BOY’S BATTLES IN THE
WILDERNESS
BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of “On to Pekin,” “Between Boer and Briton,” “Old Glory
Series,” “Colonial Series,” “Pan-American Series,” “Great
American Industries Series,” “American Boys’
Life of William McKinley,” etc.
_ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. SHUTE_
[Illustration]
BOSTON:
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY LEE AND SHEPARD
_All rights reserved_
WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST
Norwood Press
BERWICK & SMITH
Norwood, Mass.
U.S.A.
PREFACE
“WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST” is a complete story in itself, but forms
the first of several volumes to be known by the general title of
“Colonial Series.”
The main character of the book is David Morris, the son of a hardy
pioneer who first settles near Will’s Creek (now the town of
Cumberland, Virginia), and later on establishes a trading-post on one
of the numerous tributaries of the Ohio River.
As a boy David becomes acquainted with George Washington, then but a
young man of seventeen. Washington is at work, surveying tracts of land
in the beautiful Shenandoah valley, and David is glad enough to go with
him as an assistant. Together they ford the rivers and creeks, and
climb the mountains, and they do not separate until the ill health of
Lawrence Washington compels his brother to return home.
The coming of the English traders into the valley of the Ohio was
viewed with suspicion by the French, and it was not long before
these traders were served with notices to quit. A notice reaching
Mr. Morris, he turned it over to his son, who was to take it to the
Virginia authorities and learn whether or not it must be respected.
On his way eastward David falls in with the Virginia Rangers, who are
under the command of Washington, and learns that there is practically
a state of war between the English and French in America. Several
trading-posts have been attacked and this being so the youth becomes
anxious to return to his father, and throws in his fortunes with
Washington as a young soldier. Then follows the march to Great Meadows,
the defence of Fort Necessity, and the news that Mr. Morris’ post has
been captured by the French and the trader taken prisoner.
Chafing to learn what has become of his parent, David remains at the
home of his uncle until the next Spring, when General Braddock arrives
with his troops from England. Another campaign against the French is
now opened and once again the youth becomes a soldier boy, to witness
Braddock’s bitter defeat and Washington’s masterly effort to save the
remnant of the army from annihilation.
In the preparation of the historical portions of this work numerous
authorities have been consulted, including the Writings of Washington,
biographies by a great number of more or less well-known authors, and
several colonial histories and books of record. For this reason the
author trusts that it is free from any error sufficient to hurt its
usefulness. As a story the writer hopes it will find equal favor with
the many which have preceded it from his pen.
EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
NEWARK, N. J.,
_May 20, 1901_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE HOMESTEAD IN THE CLEARING 1
II. WHITE BUFFALO BRINGS NEWS 10
III. IN THE FOREST 21
IV. DEER SHOOTING BY MOONLIGHT 31
V. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 41
VI. GEORGE WASHINGTON THE SURVEYOR 54
VII. THE CAMP IN THE MOUNTAIN GAP 64
VIII. ON TO ANNAPOLIS 74
IX. A STORM IN THE MOUNTAINS 83
X. AN UNSUCCESSFUL MISSION 93
XI. DAVE BECOMES WASHINGTON’S ASSISTANT 102
XII. SURVEYING ALONG THE SHENANDOAH 111
XIII. A BEAR HUNT 119
XIV. HOME COMING IN THE SNOW 129
XV. THE SITUATION BETWEEN THE ENGLISH, FRENCH, AND INDIANS 138
XVI. DAVE’S DEPARTURE FOR THE WEST 146
XVII. CARRIED DOWN THE RIVER 154
XVIII. DAVE VISITS AN INDIAN VILLAGE 163
XIX. THE TRADING-POST ON THE KINOTAH 172
XX. AN ALARMING DISCOVERY 181
XXI. THE DEFENCE OF THE TRADING-POST 191
XXII. WASHINGTON’S MISSION TO FRENCH CREEK 201
XXIII. AN INDIAN’S TREACHERY 210
XXIV. WASHINGTON AT WILL’S CREEK 219
XXV. SOLDIERS OF THE WILDERNESS 229
XXVI. THE RETREAT TO FORT NECESSITY 239
XXVII. BATTLE AT GREAT MEADOWS 249
XXVIII. THE FALL OF THE TRADING-POST 259
XXIX. BRADDOCK’S DEFEAT AND FALL 268
XXX. FIGHTING IN THE FOREST 278
XXXI. FATHER AND SON 286
XXXII. BACK TO THE HOMESTEAD--CONCLUSION 295
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Col. Washington was in the thickest of the fight (278) _Frontispiece_
PAGE
Like a flash Turtle Foot was yanked backward 42
“Looking for a chance to ship, lad?” 86
An instant later the bear discovered them 127
“The white men are welcome to Nancoke” 169
“Stop, do not murder him!” 215
“Got it pretty bad,” said the surgeon 252
“Father!” was all Dave could say 293
CHAPTER I
THE HOMESTEAD IN THE CLEARING
“Uncle Joe, an Indian is coming this way, down the Creek trail.”
“An Indian, Dave! Can you make out who it is?”
“Not yet. He’s in the shadow of the hemlocks.” The youth pointed along
the brushwood bordering the watercourse. “There! do you see him?”
“I do. He is trailing a gun, too, and wears white feathers. It must be
White Buffalo.”
“White Buffalo! Oh, Uncle Joe, do you think he’d be able to get back so
soon?--over the mountains and rivers, and all?”
“These redskins can travel swift enough when they want to, Dave, and
like as not your father told him to bring the word back as quick as he
could.” Joseph Morris continued to keep his eyes fixed on the trail,
which wound in and out under the low-drooping trees. “Yes, it’s White
Buffalo, and he’s coming straight for our cabin.”
“I hope he brings good news,” went on Dave Morris. “Shall I go and
tell Aunt Lucy? More than likely he’ll want something to eat--they all
do when they come here.”
“Yes, tell her to fix up a good supper for the redskin, and tell her,
too, to get that new dress goods I bought at Winchester last week out
of the way. If she doesn’t White Buffalo will surely want some of it
for himself or his squaw--he can’t hold back on bright colors--although
he’s not half so much of a beggar as some of them.”
“I will. But, Uncle Joe, you’ll bring him right up to the cabin, won’t
you? I’m so impatient to hear from father.”
“Yes, I’ll bring him right up.”
“It seems an age since father went away,” added Dave Morris.
With these words the boy turned away from the bank of the creek and,
axe in hand--for he had been helping his uncle cut down some scrub
timber on the edge of a small clearing--moved quickly through a patch
of corn and then into a belt of timberland composed of beautiful
walnut, hickory, and mountain ash. Beyond the belt was a second
clearing, long and narrow, spread out upon both banks of a brook
flowing into the creek previously mentioned. In the midst of this was
a rude but comfortable log cabin, long, low, and narrow, the eaves at
one end coming down in a porch-like roof to shelter the kitchen door.
There were four rooms in this home in the wilderness and all upon the
ground floor, the upper floor under the roof tree being little more
than a loft in which to store certain winter supplies.
David Morris was a youth of fourteen, tall, strong, and by no means
ill looking. His manner was open and frank, and this disposition made
for him ready friends wherever he went. Since earliest childhood he
had been used to a life in the open, and this made him appear somewhat
older than his years. He could plow a field or cut down a tree almost
as well as a man, and he was far from being ignorant of the use of
firearms. Indeed, the winter before, he had gone out hunting with old
Sam Barringford, one of the best of the hunters and trappers in the
Virginia valley, and had acquitted himself in a manner to earn the
ardent praise of that individual. As a matter of fact, Dave would
rather have gone hunting and fishing any time than stick to the work on
the farm, but he knew his duty to his uncle and his aunt and did not
seek to evade it.
Dave’s taste for woods and waters--for hunting, trapping and
fishing--came to the lad naturally. His grandfather had been of New
Jersey stock, and had drifted into Pennsylvania with the thrifty German
pioneers who afterward did so much to make that great state what it is
to-day. But old Ezra Morris could not remain in sight of the farms and
plantations and had gone on south-westward, into what was then termed
the great Virginia valley, between the Shenandoah and the upper Potomac
Rivers. Here he had built himself a cabin, and it was here that James
Morris, the father of Dave, was born and raised. The surroundings were
wild, and the majority of neighbors--if those living half a mile or
more away could be called such--were Indians.
Although Ezra Morris always sought to be fair with the red men, others
in that district cheated the Indians in numerous ways, and as a result
the Indians arose one wintry night and slew nearly all the settlers
for miles around. Among the victims were Ezra Morris and his wife; and
the son James, then a boy of twelve, barely escaped by hiding in a
snow-bank behind the cabin. He was found in the woods two days later,
nearly frozen to death, and was taken to Winchester by parties living
there. At Winchester was his brother Joseph, several years older, who
was visiting at the time, and thus escaped the horrors of the massacre.
For several years after this Joseph and James Morris remained in and
around Winchester, then a frontier post of considerable importance,
and during that time the elder brother married Lucy Smiley, who had
just come over from England with her brother, who was in the employ
of William Fairfax of Belvoir. Several years later James Morris also
married, and both families settled near what was called Will’s Creek,
not a great distance from the present city of Cumberland. It was here
that Dave was born and also his cousins, Rodney, Henry, and little Nell.
At first all went well with both families, but one day Rodney Morris
had a bad fall from a tree which injured his leg and rendered him lame.
This was a great misfortune, for the young man had been a much needed
help to his father and his uncle, but a greater trial followed in the
sudden and unexpected death of James Morris’ wife, who was taken with a
chill one Saturday noon and expired on the following Sunday morning.
This blow almost stunned both the husband and the son, and it may truly
be said that the former never got over it. As soon after the funeral
as possible the father placed his son in his brother’s care and took
to the woods, and none of his folks saw him for nearly a year. When
he returned his pale and haggard face showed plainly that even in the
depths of the wilderness beyond the Blue Ridge he had not been able to
get away from his great grief.
During his wanderings James Morris had gone West as far as a stream of
water called by the Indians Kinotah. He described the river as very
lovely and one upon which a trader with a little means might set up a
trading-post to great advantage. One particular spot, which he named
Ella Dell, in memory of his wife, continually haunted him, and he told
his brother and his son that some day he intended to go back to it. He
reported that the Indians were now very friendly and that many of those
who had conducted the massacre of years gone by were dead.
Neither of the brothers was blessed with much money, and the
opportunities for making any were small, so the idea of opening
a trading-post had, for the time being, to be abandoned. All the
Morrises, with the exception of Rodney the cripple, worked hard on
the farm, and even Rodney did what he could to keep himself employed.
During this time Henry Morris made a trip as far East as Annapolis, and
on returning told of a stop-off at Lawrence Washington’s magnificent
estate at Mount Vernon, so called in honor of Admiral Vernon, under
whom Lawrence Washington had served in West Indian waters.
“They are a fine people, those Washingtons,” Henry Morris had declared.
“Mr. Lawrence Washington is a thorough gentleman, and his brother
George is as nice a boy as any in these parts. And, oh, what a
plantation they’ve got! Nearly a thousand slaves, and so many horses
I couldn’t count them. I can tell you a place like that is something
worth while.”
“The Washingtons have always been rich,” had been Joseph Morris’
answer. “And Lawrence Washington lost nothing by marrying William
Fairfax’s daughter. Those families own more land than they know what to
do with.”
“Old Lord Fairfax was there,” Henry had continued. “He takes a great
interest in George Washington. George is learning surveying at school,
and Lord Fairfax said he might give him the work of surveying his
estate some day.” And so the talk had run on, for in those days Lord
Fairfax was a personage of great importance in that neighborhood, and
the Washingtons were also well known.
One day there came a sudden and unexpected windfall to the Morrises. A
distant relative who lived in New Jersey died and left to each brother
the sum of twelve hundred pounds--about six thousand dollars--and also
a quantity of household goods, cattle and horses. At once James Morris
journeyed to New Jersey after the fortune, going both for himself and
as his brother’s legally appointed agent. This trip in those days
was a long one, and had to be made on horseback for the greater part
of the distance. The mission took four months, and when Dave’s father
returned he brought with him a train of sixteen pack-saddle horses,
some carrying furniture which had originally come from England and
which could not be duplicated in the colonies.
As soon as the furniture and other effects had been left at the cabin
near Will’s Creek, James Morris had announced his intention of using
his part of the inheritance in establishing a trading business with the
Indians on the Kinotah. “I know there is money to be made in it,” was
the way he reasoned to his brother. “A good deal more money than is to
be made here at farming.”
The idea pleased Joseph Morris, but he was loath to go further into the
wilderness with his wife and his little daughter, and with a son who
was a cripple, and after a long conference it was decided that James
Morris should start out alone, using a thousand pounds belonging to
both, and also the pack horses, and leaving Dave with his uncle.
It grieved Dave to be left behind, yet, as his father thought it best,
he did not complain, only begging that he might be permitted to join
his parent at the trading-post at some time not too far in the future.
To this the father had promised that the lad might make the trip during
the year following, if all went well.
The hopeful pioneer had fitted out his trading expedition at
Winchester, with goods brought from Annapolis, and with his pack horses
loaded with trinkets, bright colored blankets and cloths, and other
things dear to the heart and eye of the red men, had set off for the
great “Western Country” as some people of that time called the western
portion of Pennsylvania. Here the virgin forests were almost trackless,
the only trails being those of the Indians and the deer and other wild
animals. Bridges there were none, and every river had to be either
forded or swum, and the journey through the vast mountain gaps was
perilous in the extreme. The party consisted of James Morris, two old
hunters known as Tony and Putty, and half a dozen Indians under the
leadership of White Buffalo. It was agreed that as soon as the Kinotah
was reached and the trading-post established White Buffalo should be
sent back with the news.