With Washington in the west;

The fall of snow which had marked Dave’s home-coming was followed by nearly a month of mild and fine weather, but after that winter set in heavily, and for weeks at a time those at the cabin in the clearing hardly stirred out, excepting to take care of the cattle and horses and do other necessary chores.

During that time but little was seen or heard of the outside world. Occasionally an Indian would stop at the cabin, for food and shelter, and from these red men it was learned that all of the Indians between the Shenandoah and the Ohio had buried the war hatchet until the last of the snow was off the ground.

“Then father is safe, at least for the time being,” said Dave. “That is, unless he is suffering from this bitter cold.”

“He will not suffer so long as there is wood around,” said Henry Morris. “Trust him to have a rousing fire. He always did believe in keeping the wood-pile heaped up.”

“You are right, Henry,” laughed Dave. “I can remember yet how he made us work at splitting wood the Saturday we wanted to go fishing.”

In the summer time the boys had but scant chance to improve their limited education, for there was no schoolhouse for miles around. Now, being housed up by the weather, they were made to bring out such study books as the family possessed, and Joseph Morris took a hand daily at teaching them to read, write, spell and cipher, and also gave them lessons in geography and history, while Mrs. Morris took it upon herself to give them a strong religious training. Everybody from Rodney the cripple to little Nell took part in the lessons, and so the days passed much more quickly than they might otherwise have done. Paper was scarce and they often ciphered on birch bark, which Henry had cut and pressed for that purpose, writing with quill pens and home made ink, or with sticks of charcoal.

At last the winter broke up and by April the work around the cabin homer was resumed. There had been some cutting of timber and hauling away of the same late in the fall and now this was resumed and the new ground was cleaned up and plowed for an early planting. The cattle shed had also to be repaired, and Dave was given this task, for he was more handy with tools than was his cousin Henry. Rodney was feeling decidedly stronger, and took great pleasure in taking care of the poultry, of which he boasted a good stock, and in looking after a respectable flock of ducks. Chickens and ducks knew him well and when he sat in the warm sunshine they would not hesitate to crowd around him, to fly to his lap and search his pockets for corn.

As the spring advanced into summer Dave became anxious to hear from his father, especially when a trapper brought in the rumor that the Indians were preparing for trouble.

“They have held several war dances,” said the trapper. “And that means mischief before long.”

“Do you know White Buffalo?” asked Dave.

“I do.”

“Is he anywhere around here?”

“No, he and his braves have gone into the wilderness, where I do not know,” answered the trapper.

Soon summer was at hand and now there was so much work to do that Dave had scarcely time to think of anything else. Almost before he knew it August came and it was time for harvest. Then one day Sam Barringford dropped in upon those at the cabin.

“Glad to see me, are ye?” he said, as he gave Dave his usual iron-like grip that made the youth wince. “Wall, I’m jest as glad to set eyes on ye, too, mark thet! I’ve thought on ye a heap of times sense we had thet little flip-up with Turtle Foot. Seed anything of the rascal sense thet time?”

“I have not,—and I don’t wish to.”

“I don’t blame ye, Dave. And how is your father these days?”

“I can’t tell—for we haven’t heard.”

“Creation! Ain’t heard at all?”

“Not a word. And I am worried, because I hear the Indians are going on the warpath.”

“The war won’t amount to much, my way of thinking—the Six Nations ain’t in it, you see. They are fixing things with the French to pepper us fellows, that’s their game. But it’s too downright bad ye ain’t got no word from the Kinotah.”

“Where have you been, Sam?”

“Oh, jest knocking around, same as usual. Told you, didn’t I, about going to take Lord Fairfax and a lot of them grandees out fer a hunt? Wall, I took ’em—that is, all but Mr. Lawrence Washington. He was took sick and had to go back to Mount Vernon. After he got home they sent for his brother George, and he has taken Lawrence down to Barbadoes for his health. I opine he won’t git back alive.”

“Then Mr. George Washington has left Virginia? I helped him at surveying.”

“So I heard tell over to Winchester, and heard how both of you brought down a big black bear. Dave, it’s a feather in your cap, no two ways on ’t. Is that the hide?”

“Yes.”

“Fine as any I ever see,” and Sam Barringford examined it with a critical eye. “Dave, I’m proud of ye.”

“I am sorry to hear Mr. Washington’s brother is so ill.”

“Yes, everybody up to Greenway Court was blue over it. They were expecting great things from him and from George, who was appointed an adjutant-general of the militia some time before he sailed.”

“Is the militia reorganizing?” asked Joseph Morris, who was standing by, having met the hunter before Dave came up.

“Yes, and there’s a reg’lar war spirit in the air,” answered Barrington. “There will be a big row over the Ohio valley before the matter is settled.”

“Have the Frenchmen done anything yet?”

“Not in the way of fighting, but they are working hard to prove they own the valley. The governor of Canada sent a man named Celeron with about three hundred men down the Ohio to make peace with the Indians. He’s been nailing up lead plates all along the stream, to testify that the land is claimed by the French.”

“Did he have any trouble with our traders?” questioned Dave.

“He ordered them away, and sent a letter to Governor Hamilton, of Pennsylvania, saying he was surprised to find ’em on French territory. This woke Hamilton up and he sent old George Croghan, the trader, to the Indians with presents, and to treat with ’em. I heard Croghan had fallen in with a man named Gist, sent out by that new Ohio Company, but I don’t know the particulars.”

The news which Sam Barringford brought was true. Following the expedition of Celeron de Bienville into the Ohio Valley there was a great stir in the Pennsylvania Assembly and the outcome was the expedition under George Croghan, who was accompanied by a Canadian half-breed named Montour, who spoke the Indian dialects perfectly.

Croghan was ordered to invite the Indians to a grand assembly at Logtown, to receive presents from the English and to come to an understanding in regard to the land in the Ohio Valley. He advanced as far as Muskingum, where he was met by a man named Gist, who had been sent out by the Ohio Company to inspect the country, note the value of the land, and learn how strong the Indians were and what they intended to do.

News soon reached Croghan that the French had captured three English traders and carried them off as prisoners to Canada. He at once ordered all the English for miles around to gather at Muskingum for mutual defence. But the scare which had arisen did not last long, and Croghan and Gist proceeded on their way, visiting the villages of the Delawares, Shawnees and Miamis. With the latter an alliance was formed, in the name of the Governor of Pennsylvania.

This latter ceremony was scarcely concluded when the Indian runners announced the approach of a French expedition. Envoys had been sent by the Governor of Canada, with two kegs of brandy, ten pounds of tobacco, and other things for the Indians. But the Miamis would not accept the presents, and told the French that should war ensue they intended to remain upon the side of the English. At this the envoys departed much crestfallen.

The meeting at Logtown,—located but a short distance below the present city of Pittsburgh—was a grand success. The Indians were given many presents and professed eternal friendship for the English. Even the coming of Captain Joncaire, a veteran French pathfinder, did not turn their feelings. Although Joncaire promised them many things and spoke most eloquently to them, they hardly waited to hear him out.

“This is our land,” said one of the head chiefs. “The English are our brothers. They shall live among us, and we will trade with them and not with you,” and Joncaire had to depart defeated in his undertaking. But before he went he warned all that the land belonged to the King of France and that for the English to trade there would bring trouble.

Feeling that “possession is nine points of the law,” the Ohio Company ordered Gist to continue his explorations, and this the pioneer did, and made a survey of the company’s lands on the south side of the Ohio as far as the Great Kanawha. But in the meantime the French strengthened their stronghold at Niagara and pushed their trading-posts still further southward, on the Ohio and other streams. War was indeed inevitable, but it was yet to simmer a year or two before bursting forth in all its fury.