They set out. The Half-King was in pain from his sickness, but when by a roundabout way they reached Gist’s place, in the afternoon, he felt better and they stopped again to rest. Gist’s was deserted. After they had rested for a time the Buck came in from his look-out on the trail.
“What is it?” Tanacharison asked.
“The French are coming. They will be here soon,” the Buck reported.
Tanacharison groaned.
“I feel sick. If I stay I shall die or else lose my mind to the French. We will put distance between us and them, and get out of their evil power.”
The Buck and Robert had followed only a little way when in the woods the Buck spoke into Robert’s ear.
“Wah! We will not run off. We are warriors. Let us turn back and see what these French are going to do.”
The Buck was a fine young man, not much older than Robert. No one could ask for a better partner. His words sounded good. Therefore the Hunter dropped back with him; and they two lay in the brush where they could watch the French come into Gist’s.
Presently the column descended from the road through the woods into the flat where Gist’s houses were and where Washington had made his ditches. Ottawa and Huron scouts led, walking swiftly; then came the French commanders, and the soldiers and Canadian rangers, and more Indians: all merry, and many loaded with plunder from the Great Meadows.
But see! Who were those? Amid the blue and white uniforms of the French there was a flash of red: the English color!