The next day was an exceedingly hot one in and around Fort Oswego, and Dave was content to remain in the shade of some trees and take it easy.
Early in the morning a detachment of soldiers from Fort Niagara arrived, having been sent down by General Gage, who had now superseded Sir William Johnson in command.
These soldiers were followed by others, who had scouted through the woods lining the lake shore and who declared that all the French and unfriendly Indians had left the locality.
The soldiers brought with them two barge loads of powder which the commandant at Oswego desired. The powder did not come in until almost dark, but it was decided to place it in the powder house that night, rather than leave it on the lake until morning.
For the want of something better to do, Dave walked down to the powder house and watched the soldiers bring in the kegs of powder, and also several boxes of flints. It was rather hard work, in such warm weather, and it caused more than one soldier to grumble.
“I didn’t enlist for this,” grumbled one pioneer. “Between such work and working on the fort at Niagara, I’ve toiled harder than when I built my cabin on the Mohawk.”
“Never mind,” said another, who was more cheerful. “Remember, it’s all for the good of the cause.”
“Yes, the good of England,” growled the first speaker. “After this war between England and France is over, the Canadians will still be our neighbors, and do you think they’ll like it because we walloped them? Not to my style of thinking.”
One of the kegs of powder had burst open, and this left a train of grains running from the lake front almost to the powder-house door. Some of the powder was spilt on a rough rock, but nobody noticed this, until a soldier in passing scraped his foot on the rock, when there was a flash which made him jump high in the air and drop the keg he was carrying.
“It’s powder!” he roared, and ran for his life.