Washington was striding briskly, as if tired not a whit.
“Whether for better or worse I hope to be equal to it,” he said. “But I never feared for a moment that we would not get through.”
They reached Trader John Fraser’s house beside the Monongahela, this evening.
“Hah,” spoke Gist. “Indians, major.”
“Mingo!” cried Robert. “I see somebody.” And he ran aside, while Washington and Gist went into the house.
A party of Indians were gathered at the edge of the woods near the house. He had recognized the tall form of Scarouady.
“Hallo, Scarouady.”
Scarouady looked him over.
“I see the Hunter. But the Hunter is thin and hard. He is no longer a boy; he carries a gun and wears the panther claws of a warrior. Wah!”
“I have been far,” said the Hunter.