“A strong heart does not notice weak feet,” said Robert. “I am a warrior, and can go where Americans go.”
“You are half white, too.”
“Yes. White blood go where Injun blood can go. Injun blood go where white blood can go. So I all go.”
And Washington almost laughed.
They did not have long to rest. Christopher Gist came hurrying back.
“The fellow has no cabin. I trailed him a mile. We ought to start right on, major. He’s making a straight course, and he’ll have a pack of the red rascals upon us. I’ve no doubt there are Ottawas hereabouts, or as bad; and within gun shot, too. I didn’t like the looks we got at Murthering Town, either. So we travel all night, or we’re like to lose our hair.”
“Very well,” Washington answered; and he staggered up. “You lead, or shall I?”
“Turn about,” said Gist. “First we’ll go a little way and make a larger fire. They’ll think we’ve only changed camps.”
A large fire was built about half a mile on. It lighted up the woods, and looked very cosy; but they could not stay beside it. It was only a blind. So Washington read his compass, and took direction, and he led; then he struck flint and steel, to take direction again, and by the compass Gist led. In this way they travelled, southeast for the Forks of the Ohio, while the stars glittered and the branches snapped with the frost, and the wolves howled, until daylight.