"No." Henry drew a long breath and shuddered. "Oh, Sam, I—I hope Dave isn't drowned!"
At this the backwoodsman shrugged his shoulders.
"So do I hope it, lad. But war is war ye must remember, an' we can't expect to kill the enemy right along an' hev nuthin' happen to us."
"Yes, but—" Henry could not finish because of the lump which came up in his throat. "I'm going to follow the river and see if I can't find out the truth," he blurted out at length.
"Sure. Come on."
The fighting now seemed to be at an end in that neighborhood, and although they could hear gun-shots in the direction of the falls, and further to the southward, not a French soldier or an unfriendly Indian remained in sight.
For the day had been irretrievably lost to the enemy, and with one hundred and fifty of the French and Indians killed, and over one hundred French taken prisoners, the remainder of the attacking force had fled in wild confusion past the falls and upper rapids to where lay the boats which had brought them down from Lake Erie. Into these boats they tumbled with all possible speed and sped in the direction whence they had come. They were followed by some of the English and by Indians, who ran along the shore for a distance of half a mile, shooting down every enemy who could be reached by bullet or arrow.