“The French soldiers one short mile; the woods are full of Ottawa and Huron. I have struck the Ottawa. Make ready, Long Knives.”
Although the Mingos of Tanacharison had proved weak, and the Delawares and the Shawnees were not helping, it was good to have Scarouady and his son and the brave little Bright Lightning faithful.
Pretty soon figures of both Indians and French soldiers could be seen moving among the trees of a hill in the northwest a quarter of a mile away; and on a sudden a great smoke gushed and a tremendous volley rolled across the meadow. But never a ball dropped anywhere near.
The Long Knives and the Mackaye company stood in line in the open meadow in front of the ditches, with Washington walking up and down before them. The blue flag of Virginia drooped over the centre of the Washington men, and the red flag of the King drooped over the centre of the fort.
“Do not answer,” Washington ordered. “They cannot harm us from that distance. They only seek to draw us from our position. Wait them here, and when they descend, fire at close quarters. They cannot stand against our balls well delivered.”
But the French did not come out of the woods. They fired another volley or two, their Indians screeched; and seeing that Washington stood firm, waiting them, they began to march about. A stirring sight they made, from the glimpses of them: part of them in regular uniform, and part in rangers’ hunting shirts, and the Indians scuttling painted for war.
By this day the men of Washington who were able to fight had shrunk to about three hundred and fifty, including the Mackaye company.
It wasn’t long before shots commenced to pepper from the point where trees had been left, and from another slope a little farther. That was killing range.
“The rascals will not show themselves,” said Washington, to Major Muse. “Do you ask Captain Mackaye to station his men within the log trenches, and my rangers will hold the outside ditches. Then if that tempts those fellows to assault, let them come.”
This was quickly done. The Captain Mackaye King’s soldiers knelt behind the log-capped breastworks, ready to serve their muskets and the cannon; and the Long Knife soldiers knelt in the ditches in front.