A short distance to the eastward of Turtle Creek was another small stream called Bushy Run, and here it was resolved to make a halt until darkness was at hand. Taking the route step, the soldiers trudged along steadily until noon, and then, after a midday repast, went on again.
"What a magnificent lot of timber there is around here," remarked Rodney, as he gazed at the stately trees on both sides of the road.
"You are right," replied Dave. "Not an ax has ever been used here, excepting to clear this road."
"Look, Dave, there is a bee tree yonder!"
"True enough. What a pity that we can't stop and get some of the honey. It would be worth several pounds at least."
"We could mark the tree—if we thought we should ever come this way again."
"There is no telling about that. If Fort Pitt has fallen and the trading-post is in the hands of the Indians and French, perhaps father won't want to stay out here—that is, supposing he is safe, which is doubtful."
"Oh, I hope he and Henry escape, no matter what happens to the fort."
"Perhaps Fort Pitt will suffer as Venango did, Rodney. Every man at Venango was killed." And Dave shook his head sadly.
At one o'clock the army was within half a mile of Bushy Run, when a shot was heard ahead, followed by several others in rapid succession.