XIVBRIGHT LIGHTNING LENDS A HAND
Several weeks had passed. On this day, after the middle of the month called June, instead of being with the Washington Long Knives Robert was perched in a tree and watching the great fort named Duquesne, of the French.
This had come about through no other than Bright Lightning, as shall now be told.
Since the battle, matters at Great Meadows had gone only fairly well. Tanacharison had sent to the planting grounds and to Logstown for the Mingo families, and Queen Allaquippa had moved in. But these were the only Delawares, and they, like the Mingos, were mainly women and children, and all had to be fed.
“I will be among the last men to leave the Ohio,” Washington had said. While waiting for help he proceeded to build a fort of logs and pickets. That was slow work; the soldiers were thin and weak. Then, before much had been done, another company of Long Knives arrived. Their chief captain was an old soldier named Muse—Major Muse, whom Washington seemed delighted to see. Colonel Fry had died from an accident at Will’s Creek, and now Washington was colonel in command of all the Virginia Americans.
Major Muse had brought nine cannon, in wagons, but little food. A Captain James Mackaye was following with a company of soldiers from South Carolina;and Colonel Innes, another old soldier, would come with three hundred and fifty men from North Carolina.
A merry, red-headed young Long Knife doctor named James Craik, whom Washington especially welcomed as a brother, had marched with that other old friend Major Muse, to attend to the sick and wounded. And Andrew Montour the white Seneca, and Trader George Croghan of Pennsylvania, were here. And sometimes Christopher Gist.
Andrew Montour had brought wampum and medals from Assaragoa the Governor, for the Indian chiefs; and one medal for Washington himself. At a council the oldest son of Queen Allaquippa had been given a medal and the English name Colonel Fairfax (who was the odd old man in Virginia). Half-King had been given a medal and the English name Dinwiddie, which was the name of Assaragoa the Governor also, and meant Head of All.
Washington was given the Indian name Connotaucarius or Devourer of Lands. He liked that, but he did not like the pipe that he was obliged to smoke.
Captain Mackaye arrived with his South Carolina company of one hundred men, with sixty cows, but scarcely any ammunition or flour. The South Carolina men would not work on the fort or at cleaning brush unless they were paid extra. They said they were soldiers in the service of the King and not of Virginia; and Captain Mackaye said that they did not have to obey Washington, who commanded only the Virginia Volunteers.
So the Captain Mackaye King’s soldiers sat idly, which displeased Tanacharison.
“Washington is too good-natured,” he complained. “These men of Mackaye should be made to work or else sent to fight. We stay here from one full moon to another and nothing is done except to start this little thing called a fort, in the open meadow, as if the French would march out of the woods against it and be killed. Meanwhile the French are growing and care nothing about the fort. Why do not the English march on and shut the French up? Where are the other soldiers whom Assaragoa is sending?”
But the Half-King kept scouts out; they brought word that the French at the Forks were growing indeed. Scarouady was still absent with his hatchets and scalps and wampum. The Shingis Delawares had not come in, neither had the Shawnees or Miamis or Wyandots. Scarouady, however, sent the message that certain chiefs would join Washington at Redstone Creek. He asked Washington not to attack the French fort until he should be back.
There now were four hundred men at the Great Meadows. Washington, too, was tired of waiting. No other companies showed up. So he left the Mackaye soldiers to guard the half-completed fort; and he took his three hundred Long Knives, to cut a road to the mouth of Redstone Creek, at the Monongahela, and build another fort there, nearer to the Forks.
Gist’s place, thirteen miles beyond the Laurel Hills, was to be the first stop. And they all had been on the way a week, making only a mile a day in order to open a road through the forest and a rocky gorge, in order that the wagons and the cannon might be hauled; and the war paint of Robertthe Hunter had been washed off by sweat and rain; and as tired as the tiredest he was trying to rest, this evening, when he felt a pebble strike his cheek.
He looked aside, and what should he see, in the dusk, but the face of Bright Lightning, White Thunder’s daughter, twinkling at him from behind a tree. She beckoned to him to come.
Wah! This was no place for women or girls. The Mingo women and children had stayed down at the Great Meadows, where they would be safe. But Bright Lightning was pretty and spoiled, and usually did as she chose. Thereupon he got up and followed her into the shadows.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You’d better go home.”
“Listen, Hunter,” she said: “Do you want to be a warrior?”
“I am a warrior,” he answered. “I do not talk with girls.”
“Just because you wear panther claws!” Bright Lightning laughed. “Where is your war paint? I know you did find your way through the dark and you saw scalps taken, but now you cut trees like the white people. You have turned white. All right; be a tree cutter if you like, but I am going to find the French.”
“Where?”
“At their great house in the Forks, of course.”
“Wah!” exclaimed the Hunter. “You’re a girl. Who sent you? What can you do? You’re speaking foolish.”
“I can count them,” declared Bright Lightning.
“That is man’s work. Guyasuta and Buck and others are spying,” said Robert. “They bring word.”
“What word?” Bright Lightning answered scornfully. “One day one thing, one day another. The French are giving presents; they buy the Indians and send out lies to Washington. Even the heart of Tanacharison is getting weak. Yes, I am a girl, but I can go inside the French house, and see, and nobody will mind; then I can come out and tell you. You will tell Washington the truth.”
“Wah!” the Hunter exclaimed. “I?”
“Yes.” Bright Lightning continued breathlessly. “I have your horse. He will carry us to the Forks. Then you will hide outside and I will go inside, and you shall wait. So if you want to play warrior, come, or I go alone. But two are better than one.”
“Good!” said the Hunter. Now he was tired no longer; he was all on fire with the scheme. It was true that many of the Indians who came with word of the French were probably spies, with forked tongues. The French were strong and clever, and gave more presents than the English. But Bright Lightning was smart, too; and women and girls could go in and out of places and not be noticed.
Maybe he should tell Washington first. No! This was Indian work, again. He might not be missed at all; Indians came and went and Washington was busy with the Long Knives, making the road.
So he said only: “Wait.” And he ran and got his blanket. He had carried his gun with him from his bed. One did not stir from camp without one’s gun.
He joined Bright Lightning. She guided him to the horse, and he mounted and she mounted behind him, and they rode north for the Forks, to learnwhat the French were doing at their great house named Fort Duquesne.
It was the second morning when they arrived. Over the point of land and over the two rivers that made it, and over the Ohio beyond, there lay a white fog. That was lucky. Out of the fog sounds floated—distant voices of persons and dogs, as if a large village were waking.
“Wah! To go in would be easy for even you,” said Bright Lightning. “But you might not get out again. I will go in. When I come out I will meet you here.”
So she hurried down into the fog blanket, and left the Hunter here upon the hill above it. The horse had been hidden in a leafy hollow near a spring. Robert promptly climbed into a tree, for the sun was rising and the fog would soon break.
What an amazing sight that was, below, as the fog blanket presently vanished in rifts and tatters! He saw the blue Monongahela and the blue Allegheny and the blue Ohio—all like a forked stick open toward him; and in the fork the strong fort of the French from Onontio, upon the very spot where he had met Washington and Gist bound for Logstown and Venango and Fort Le Boeuf, and from which Lieutenant Ward had been driven.
His hill was an excellent spying spot; from his tree he could look down upon that land, not more than one whoop away. The French had done wonders. They had built a fort shaped like a star; with a high fence of log pickets on the river sides, and a high wall of logs on the other sides, and a wide ditch with the dirt thrown up, surrounding on all the sides. The fence and the walls were pierced for cannon andmuskets. Within the fence and walls there were many log houses and many people moving about. The forest had been cut down everywhere within gunshot; upon Robert’s side, which was the land side, an enormous cornfield extended from the Monongahela around to the Allegheny; and between the cornfield and the fort ditch a great number of Indians were camped.
Well, Bright Lightning could go through the cornfield and come out among the Indians; and no doubt that was what she was doing. Nobody would care. She was only a girl, and pretty, and the Delawares would be glad to see her.
The point was a busy spot. Robert the Hunter had a view into the fort, where Indians and blue-uniformed soldiers swarmed, and much went on. Indians were constantly coming and going, in canoes or afoot; soldiers were marched out, and were marched in again. Why, Washington had not been told all lies. There were a thousand and more French and Indians here; and what could four hundred half-starved Americans do?
No one bothered him, on his hill. He stayed in the tree most of the day, waiting for Bright Lightning and watching people of the fort. As Bright Lightning did not come back, he knew that she was down there, using her wits while she visited.
This night there was a war-dance by some of the Indians in the camp. The inside of the fort was noisy, too, with lights carried here and there, as though the soldiers were getting ready for a march. Evidently something had been planned.
But in the morning Bright Lightning had not turned up. Inside the fort soldiers had been formed,and Indians in war paint had gathered. That was plain to the Hunter’s keen eyes. What was to happen? He wished that he knew. Then, about four hours after sunrise, a great yelling was heard, from up the Allegheny; and the Indians of the fort yelled; and looking, he saw a fleet of canoes and wooden boats, bristling with Indians, dash down from the north. They beached amid a tremendous hooting and cheering; a French officer sprang out, and the Indians followed; they seemed to be more Hurons and French Iroquois; the Delawares and Shawnees and Wyandots greeted them, and the French officer was taken into the fort.
Now what? The soldiers broke ranks, but there was much excitement. The excitement continued all day; late in the afternoon French officers spoke to a great council inside the fort. Their voices reached Robert, but he could not hear what was said. He had begun to be angry with Bright Lightning when she came hurrying through the dusk—
“Quick!” she panted. “Go to Washington, Hunter. Tell him the French march with soldiers and Indians to attack him.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, maybe. That is what they say. I could not come before; now I am glad, because I heard the council. They were getting ready yesterday—five hundred French and a few Miami. The Delaware would not go. You saw those boats. Well, those were all French Indians, sent by Onontio, and that white man named Villiers. Jumonville that Washington and Tanacharison killed was his half-brother. He will lead with his Ottawa and Huron and Iroquois, to take revenge. The French captainchief in the fort spoke hot words in the council. Now the King Shingis and the King Beaver Delaware have accepted the black wampum and the French hatchet, and they are all willing to go to fight the English.”
“How many?”
“They are like the corn in the field,” said Bright Lightning. “Wah! Do you hurry?”
“Come,” exclaimed the Hunter.
“No,” replied Bright Lightning. “I am only a girl; you are a warrior and must ride fast. If anybody has followed me, to catch me, that doesn’t matter, but no one should catch you. You go to Gist’s place quick, on the horse; I am not afraid.”
She spoke sense. Robert turned and ran. He knew that Bright Lightning could take care of herself.