Little Meadows reached, the general was in perplexity and for once listened to Washington. He was furious over the continued delays and angry because the colonists did not do more to help him.
“I would advise that the main portion of our army go forward in light marching order,” said Washington. “A fair portion can remain behind to bring up the heavy baggage.”
Braddock thought it over and finally ordered the main body of the army to proceed. But each man was heavily equipped, with full knapsack, army blanket, and rifle, and the progress was not much better than before.
“At this rate, we’ll never get to Fort Duquesne,” said Dave, one day, when they had come to a halt at the ford over the Youghiogheny. “I wonder why General Braddock doesn’t push ahead and let the baggage come up when it can?”
“Because he’s a drill-room soldier,” growled Barringford. “He don’t know any more about fighting in the wilderness than I do of dancing at a royal ball. Fust thing you know we’ll be surrounded and then—wall, we’ll see what we will see, thet’s all.”
“Colonel Washington is down with a fever,” put in a soldier standing near. “I just heard that the general ordered him to stay here until he was better.”
“That’s too bad,” said Dave. “I wish he was in command. I’d feel safer than I do.”
“Don’t worry, we’re safe enough just yet,” answered Barringford. “General Braddock won’t let our troops go ahead. He wants his own regiments to lead the way.”
“He ought to throw out a good body of scouts,” put in another soldier, who knew the backwoods thoroughly. “For all we know the French and Indians may be all around us this minute.”
So the talk ran on, but no one dared to tell the general of what was passing in the minds of the pioneers. The army moved on, making for the Monongahela, and here a few days later Washington rejoined it, still weak but resolved to be at the front when the fighting took place. So anxious was he to be on the field that he wrote to a friend he would rather lose five hundred pounds than miss the coming battle.