All this night it rained—and a miserable night that was. Early in the morning the men got up, and in the rain ate what could be eaten; guards were posted far out to give warning should the French be near; and Washington and Captain Strobo decided that more trees upon the wooded point should be cut down. Most of the Tanacharison people were leaving into the woods where the women and children would be safer than in the fort which had no roof and was too small.
The tree chopping went on slowly. Then, in the rain, who should come, from the other end of the meadow, but Bright Lightning! Yes, it was she, and by the way she hurried she was very tired. Robert seemed to be the one who saw her first—a weary little figure. He ran to meet her.
“Ho, Hunter!” she gasped. “Tell Washington the French are less than four miles off. Nine times one hundred, with many Indians in front. They come.”
And Bright Lightning sank down. Her feet were bare and bleeding; her deer-skin dress was torn. She had been a long time out.
Robert made haste to tell Washington that the French were on this side of the Laurel Hills. He had not got to where Washington was helping chop the trees, when he heard a gun-shot in the forest in that direction. Next a soldier staggered down the slope there.
“Injuns!” he shouted. “The enemy!”
He was one of the out-post sentinels; an Indian had fired upon him and wounded him.
All the sentries were running in now. The tree chopping ceased; the officers began to form their companies at the fort. And next another figure appeared bounding down into the meadow—and Robert heard the scalp halloo of Scarouady.
Here came Scarouady, with a dripping scalp in one hand and his rifle in the other. Huzzah! He had avenged the wounded soldier. And he cried, panting in: