Part 18

In the early dusk the view of the Forks opened from around Grant’s Hill. What was that? See! The fort was afire――the walls were smouldering under a canopy of smoke, and beyond, in the Ohio, the last of a fleet of boats was disappearing in the mists! Huzzah! The scouts ran boldly through the clearing; and stopped short. Wah!

Robert found himself at a race-track used by the Indians for foot-races. It stretched straight-away, and was marked by poles set upon either side of it; and every pole was topped by the head of a Highlander with his petticoat clothing hung beneath!

An Indian joke! Whew! Now what would happen? The scouts did not have long to wait. Down among the stumps marched the Washington Buckskins; they had won the honor of the lead, and Washington rode at their front. The Pennsylvanians and the other Provincials followed closely. One and all they saw the heads upon the poles, but this did not stop them. The Royal Americans in their red and blue came next, their fifes and drums playing merrily. The Highlanders strode after, with Head of Iron in his litter leading them on.

What now? Listen! They had sighted the first of the heads――they had broken into a hoarse growl. The growl spread; and see! They had gone mad! They had thrown away their muskets, they had bared their stout swords, they were coming in a mob, like wild buffalo; their bare knees worked up and down, their kilt petticoats flapped, the ribbons of their caps streamed behind them, and treading under foot whatever was in their path they charged for the fort, to kill.

But there was nobody in the fort. The French had blown up the ammunition magazine (this had been the “Boom!” in the night), and had gone away in boats.

“The last boats left only an hour before the Long Knives came,” said Scarouady. “Well, now Washington and I have been at the death of this great house which the English should have taken years ago. It was a house of much mischief.”

That was a moment not to be forgotten, when, with all the troops presenting arms, and the fifes piping and shrilling, and the drums rolling, by order of General Forbes himself Colonel George Washington, the youngest field officer, raised the flag over the ruins of Fort Duquesne. He had earned that honor.

The Ohio country was to be English; the French had made a strong fight, but they never were to come back.

“Your reports upon this place are correct, Colonel Washington,” said the worn old Head of Iron. “It is the site for a fort, and the site for a city. In the name of His Majesty I christen it Pittsburgh, as a tribute to Sir William Pitt, His Majesty’s great prime minister who has so vigorously prosecuted this war to the glory of His Majesty’s arms.”

Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah!

XXIII

COLONEL WASHINGTON RESTS

The next day was spent in resting. Little was left of Fort Duquesne save the charred logs of the palisades, and the tall chimneys of the buildings.

Several more Indians came in. They were Delawares and Shawnees, who wished to see Head of Iron――that terrible chief who had to be guarded in a litter, lest he break loose and spread death. They were anxious to look upon Washington again, who was under the protection of the Great Spirit.

Thirteen fair shots had been made at him in the Braddock fight, by a chief. Not one bullet had struck him. Evidently he was not to be slain by bullets.

While quarters were being built for the new garrison the bones of the Grant soldiers were gathered and buried. Then a number of the soldiers wished to see Braddock’s Field. So they went out, with Robert and others of the Virginians who had seen it before.

The Delawares and Shawnees acted as guides. As for Robert, there had been such a rout and excitement that he had had time to note very little. How long ago that seemed!

The woods from the ambush hill to the river were still strewn with skeletons――the tree trunks were scarred with bullets and cannon-balls, and fragments of clothing, grenadier hats and rusted muskets were scattered everywhere.

Young Major Peter Halket, of General Forbes’ staff, wondered if anybody could tell him where his father and younger brother had fallen. Robert asked the Shawnees――“Two red-coat soldiers,” he said: “an old gray-haired man and a boy. They fell together, the boy on top of his father, down toward the river.” He remembered that.

“Ho!” cried one of the Shawnees. “Yes; I saw. It was many moons ago, but I will try to find the spot.”

He led off, and they all followed. And after a time he stopped, to peer about. Then he ran straight; then they heard him cry, from the woods――a discovery whoop. Then they went in to him. He was waiting under an oak tree. He pointed at the foot of it, where leaves were heaped up.

Captain West, who commanded the party, formed a circle of the men and ordered the leaves to be raked aside. And sure enough, here were two skeletons, one with its arms around the other. They were old Major Halket, the brave Scotch nobleman, and his son. Young Major Halket knew by the teeth which had been his father’s.

The bones were wrapped in a Highland plaid, and buried, and a volley fired over the grave.

The quarters having been built, and two hundred Virginians under Lieutenant Colonel Hugh Mercer having been detailed to guard them, the column started home. It was the middle of December when the Virginians were finally in Fort Loudoun of Winchester. They were to be disbanded. In Washington’s opinion they had served enough; a “really fine corps” General Forbes had called them; now the border was clean of the enemy, and it was time that they be mustered out.

Washington resigned his post of commander――which made the men all the more anxious to quit soldiering and go home, too. The two regiments drew up an address to him――

“In you we place the most implicit confidence,” it said. “Your presence only will cause a steady firmness and vigor to actuate every breast, despising the greatest dangers, and thinking light of toils and hardships, while led on by the man we know and love.”

This was the Thirtieth Day of December, 1758. He handed in his commission very soon; and on January 6 he was married. That had not been unexpected. He had been sending out letters to Mrs. Martha Custis, from every camp; and he had been in a great hurry to get back, after the capture of the fort.

The English were growing stronger, the French were growing weaker. The Seven Years War between Great Britain and France lasted about five years longer; France lost not only the Ohio Country but Canada as well; Onontio of the Indians was driven from America.

But in this fighting Robert Hunter and the other Buckskins took no part. They had to wait for a greater war, when Washington again proved his mettle and his wisdom. That, however, was still years ahead; although, said certain people, among them old Lord Fairfax, it was surely coming.

THE END

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Transcriber’s Notes:

――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_); text in bold by “equal” signs (=bold=).

――Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to follow the text that they illustrate.

――Obvious printer’s, punctuation, and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected, except as noted below.

――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.

――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.

――Page 20: “... Washington retires from the Presidency and is succeeded by Thomas Jefferson.” should read “... Washington retires from the Presidency and is succeeded by John Adams.”