So Robert rose, and followed the Buck out of the fort, and around to where Half-King was camped at a little distance, on high ground among some trees.
Scarouady and Aroas and Fairfax, the son of Queen Allaquippa, were here sitting beside Half-King who was lying down wrapped in a blanket.
“You have been listening to the talk between Washington and the French captain,” said Tanacharison. “What is going on down there? Do the English surrender?”
“Washington says the French will have to let him march away or he will fight,” the Hunter answered.
“Wah!” grumbled Tanacharison. “That is right. The French have had enough. They are cowards and hide in the woods, but the English are fools and do nothing at all. I lent you to Washington to learn the white ways. Now it seems to me the Indian ways are better. The Mingos are going to Aukwick to live till the French and English are done fighting. I wish you to come with me.”
But Aukwick, which in the Mohawk tongue was Oquaga or Place of Wild Grapes, was an old Iroquois town far away, upon the Susquehanna River in New York; and Robert’s heart sank.
“I am Washington’s man,” he said. “I cannot leave Washington.”
“You are not his son; you are mine,” replied Tanacharison. “Now the French have bewitched me for having killed the Jumonville men and I am sick. I will go where the French cannot reach me. You will be of no use to Washington, for the French have driven him out. I need you more than he does. Those are my words.”
Half-King did indeed appear sick. After staying for a time the Hunter went back, down to the fort. It was midnight, and Washington and Captain Mackaye were just signing the French paper.
Evidently they had got good terms. The French did not know, but there were thirty dead and seventy wounded, and little powder and ball, and less than two days’ food.