“Within one week we shall be at the frontier of Will’s Creek; in another week I shall be reporting to the Governor,” said Washington, as from Gist’s place they jogged on, in the rain, following Nemacolin’s Trail through forest and mountains, with Will’s Creek and the Ohio Company’s store-house at the Potomac seventy miles distant.
“You will urge him to fortify the Ohio at once, before the French descend in the Spring?” Gist asked.
“I shall press upon him the instant need of a fort and trading-house in the Forks; the place that I am recommending in my report,” answered Washington.
They made what haste they might, again, upon poor horses, in bad weather, over a heavy trail. Washington was eager to report to Assaragoa and have the French stopped; Gist’s fingers and toes demanded medicines; and Robert the Hunter looked forward to strange sights in the towns of the Long Knives—he had been promised that he should shake the hand of the Long Knife Governor himself.
They had been travelling four days and were within one day’s journey of Will’s Creek, when they heard shouts and snappings. Then at a turn of the blazed trail they were face to face with a line of white men, a few ahorse and the others afoot, driving pack animals.
“Ho!” uttered Washington. “Whither bound?”
“To the Forks of the Ohio, sir.”
XII
ROBERT CARRIES BAD NEWS
He was a fresh-complexioned young man in red uniform coat and red trousers buttoned into gaiters at the calf, and cocked hat, and wore a sword, like a soldier.