At last the dull day faded away as it had come. The heavy raindrops came pattering on the leaves of the trees and presently struck upon Dave’s upturned face, for the young soldier was once more resting flat on his back, with his head clasped in his hands. A frightened squirrel came hopping back to his former haunts. Catching sight of Dave, he sat up and stared for a moment, then vanished as he had come.
The youth was now hungry and feeling a little stronger, crawled over to where the Indians had had their camp-fire. Here he found the remains of some corn cake and a bit of meat which he devoured slowly and painfully. The rain furnished him with water to wash down the scanty food, and again he slept.
When Dave awoke he felt surprisingly stronger and got up with scarcely an effort. He saw that the grenadier was dead and could not help but shudder. How awful to travel so many miles across the ocean and then meet a fate like this!
Where should he turn? What should he do? These were the questions he asked himself, over and over again, without arriving at any satisfactory answer. He knew that the day had been lost to the English, that Braddock was shot down, and that Washington had taken command in one last effort to save the remnant of the troops from annihilation. But where were Washington and the other soldiers? Where was Sam Barringford?
“They must be retreating eastward,” he reasoned, at last. “That would be the only way for them to go. I’ll have to go likewise, and be careful I don’t fall into the clutches of those redskins again.”
The thought had scarcely crossed his mind when he saw a sight that filled him first with dismay and then with joy. Three Indians were coming along the river, directly toward the glade. He felt they must be enemies. But as they drew closer he recognized White Buffalo and two followers.
“White Buffalo!” he cried, with all the strength he could command.
“Who calls?” was the instant question, and the Indians leaped behind the trees.
“It is I, White Buffalo, Dave Morris! I am alone, so you have nothing to fear.”
Upon hearing this White Buffalo ran forward and was soon at Dave’s side. He was pleased to learn that the young soldier was not dangerously wounded and had one of his followers bind Dave’s head up in a mash made of healing herbs.