With Washington in the west;

“I think we’ll get some fighting before long,” said Dave to Henry, as the two marched away with Washington, through the woods and over the hills leading to Tanacharisson’s lodge. “By all reports the French must be close at hand.”

“Well, a fight would warm us up,” returned Henry. “I must say I am chilled to the backbone.”

It was small wonder that Henry was chilled, for it was night and raining heavily. Under the giant trees it was pitch dark and the party, moving in Indian file, had to feel the way from one step to the next. Every soldier was on guard, rifle in hand, and it must be admitted that the hearts of both Dave and Henry thumped wildly. For all they knew to the contrary they might be walking into the worst kind of an ambush. Washington remained calm, although constantly on the alert.

The march reached an end at daybreak, when they came within sight of the Indian camp. The half-king received Washington with much ceremony and promised his immediate aid.

“I will put Spotted Face and Rainbow upon the trail of the French,” said Tanacharisson. “They are more keen than dogs of the hunt. They will soon let us know the truth.”

He was as good as his word, and while the spies were gone the Indians treated the English with the best they possessed. All the half-king’s warriors were tall, straight, powerful fellows, with coarse black hair and eyes that were crafty and sharp. They were accustomed to firearms and could handle a rifle as well as their English allies.

When the two spies returned they reported that the French had gone into camp in a hollow not far away, a place surrounded by rough rocks and dense trees, and had put up a few cabins to protect them from the rain.

“If they put up the cabins they must mean to stay awhile,” said Washington.

“They cannot suspect you are at hand,” replied the half-king, “or they would not stop to put up such shelters.”

“Will you aid me in surprising them?” questioned the young commander.

“Have I not already promised it?” was the answer.

It was soon arranged that they should move upon the French in secret, the English on the right, the Indians on the left. This done Washington called his men together and made them a brief address.

“The enemy is just ahead,” he said. “We are going to attack and the Indians are going to help us. I expect every soldier to do his duty. Forward now, and make no noise;” and away moved the little body, into the forest again.

Step by step the militia drew closer to the French camp until the cabins in the hollow were plainly to be seen. The soldiers of France were off their guard and lying in the shelters, smoking, drinking, and playing cards. Suddenly a shot rang out, followed by another, and on the instant all was commotion and the French were leaping to arms.

“Keep cool!” ordered Washington. “Don’t waste your shots! We are bound to win!”

The last words brought confidence to the raw soldiery, and, advancing quickly, they poured a heavy fire into the enemy, killing the leader, Jumonville, and several privates.

Dave and Henry fired with the others, and continued to discharge their weapons as quickly as they could reload. The bullets were now whistling freely upon all sides, and a soldier standing close beside Washington was cut down, to rise no more. Soon the smoke was so thick that little could be seen.

The French, imagining a large force of the English had fallen upon them, started to rush out of the hollow by the back way. As they did this the half-king and his warriors came up and thus the enemy was caught between a disastrous cross-fire. Again they turned and fired into the English, wounding several. Then Washington urged his men forward, and the skirmish became more terrific than ever.

Panting for breath Dave leaped upon a rock and fired as best he could. He heard a bullet rush by him but did not know until later that it had passed through the flap of his coat. The shooting, shouting and yelling was deafening and he could not tell whether they were losing or winning the contest.

But the skirmish was not of long duration. The surprise of the French, followed by the fall of their leader, produced a panic, and in quarter of an hour the contest was at an end and the French were fleeing in several directions. After them went some of the English and the larger portion of the Indians, and these brought back twenty-one prisoners. Only one man escaped, and it was he who carried the news of the disaster to what was now the French fort on the Ohio.

The contest had not been a large one, but the victory was gratifying to the soldiers under Washington, and in high glee they marched back to Great Meadows with their prisoners. This disappointed the Indians somewhat for they would have preferred to kill and scalp all who were taken. According to their way of reasoning the best enemy was a dead enemy.

Among the prisoners taken was La Force, and he now tried to prove that he was on a peaceful mission to the English. But a letter was found on Jumonville which disproved this, and much against his will La Force, who was considered by Washington a very dangerous man, was sent to Winchester with the other prisoners.

“Wasn’t that a great fight?” said Henry to Dave. “How we did let the Frenchmen have it!”

“And how they did run,” answered Dave. “We certainly surprised them in fine shape.”

After the prisoners had departed under a strong guard the remaining soldiers were set to work to erect a fortification at Great Meadows, which, when completed, was called Fort Necessity. On this fort Dave and Henry worked with the rest, day after day, digging the soil and planting heavy posts as though they were common laborers. On retiring their backs would often ache from the toil, but neither complained.

“War isn’t all shooting and glory,” remarked Henry. “This has got to be done, so let us make the best of it.”

If the success of the contest just passed pleased Washington it likewise delighted Tanacharisson, and the half-king lost no time in sending messages to his friends, urging them to join him in his fighting with the English. A few responded without delay but the majority held back, fearing that if they sided with the English the French would annihilate them.

Washington had already sent word to Will’s Creek for reinforcements. Colonel Fry was there, but he was ill and could not move. Soon the colonel died, and his place was taken by Colonel Innes, who had been a fellow officer with Lawrence Washington. Washington urged Innes to come forward and in return received three hundred soldiers, those whom Colonel Fry had mustered into the service. Later still came a few other soldiers and also nine swivel guns.

But powder and shot were scarce and provisions were even more so, and with the coming of the Indian half-king’s tribe there was for a week or more little or nothing to eat in the camp. Old hunters went out and brought in fresh meat and fish, yet these could not take the place of flour and other necessities.

“I haven’t had a full meal in four days,” said Dave to Henry, once. “How good a big slice of bread would taste!”

“You are right,” answered Henry. “A fellow craves bread no matter what else he can get. It is certainly the staff of life. I wonder what the commander expects to do next?”

“What can he do but hold his own until more troops arrive. I hear the French army is over a thousand strong.”

At length Washington, hearing nothing of the French, prepared to continue his road building westward. This was just started when a handful of the enemy were discovered and captured. They were brought in and found to be deserters and gave out the information that the fort at the Fork was now completed and had been named Fort Duquesne, after the governor of Canada.

“And how many men are there?” asked Washington.

“Five hundred,” was the answer. “And they expect several hundred more soon.”

Undaunted, the young commander proceeded with his road building and kept this up until within thirteen miles of the fort. Here he was met by an old pioneer who told him that reinforcements had arrived at the fort in large numbers and that the French were on the point of sending out a strong body of troops to attack the English.

At first Washington was for making a stand, but he was urged by his fellow officers not to sacrifice the little party with him, and then began a swift but dignified retreat to Great Meadows.

“I don’t like this,” said Dave, with a falling face. “I thought we should go right through to father’s trading-post.”

However, he had to make the best of it, for a true soldier obeys orders, no matter what those orders are.

As it afterward proved, the retreat was made just in time, for the French were already on the way from Fort Duquesne. They were five hundred strong and under the command of Captain De Villiers, a brother-in-law to Jumonville, who had sworn to avenge his relative’s murder as he termed it. Finding Washington’s late camp deserted, and learning that the English were at Great Meadows and half-starved, De Villiers pushed on to bring about a battle.

It was now that Washington showed the real stuff of which he was made. Many have pictured him as a severe, stately man, lacking in open-hearted enthusiasm. He was this, at times, but not always. At home he had slaves to do his bidding, but he did not have them now, and pitching off his coat and rolling up his shirt sleeves he went to work with his soldiers at the task of chopping down trees, digging additional trenches, and otherwise making Fort Necessity a greater place of safety.

“We cannot do too much,” he said to Dave, when they chanced to be together. “I wish I had four hands instead of two.”

“He’s a great man,” whispered Henry, after Washington was gone. “He’ll be a great leader some day, he shows it all over.”

“Well, if he does become a great leader there won’t be a better one,” answered Dave. He liked Washington now even better than he had while surveying on the Shenandoah.

With the coming of a large force of the French the situation was certainly grave enough, but now came a blow from an entirely different quarter. The Indians complained of the lack of defence which the fort afforded and pleaded that they must take their squaws and children to a place of safety. The majority departed, leaving only a handful of warriors with Washington.

“The mean fellows!” exclaimed Dave, when he saw the red men leave. “I was afraid they would desert us when it came to the pinch. I’d like to have White Buffalo here, only perhaps father needs him more than we do,” and he sighed deeply.

This was early in July, and on the following morning shots were heard at a distance and a picket came running in badly wounded. The alarm was sounded and the whole body of soldiers drawn up on the grass in front of the fort. Soon scouts came in with the news that the French army was but four miles away and approaching rapidly.