With George Washington into the wilderness

by Edwin L. Sabin

With the two paddlers interested in searching the banks and the dim surface, the canoe towed him quite a distance up stream. Then it stopped, above the landing place, and the Indians whooped. Whoops replied to them. They were no-news whoops. The other canoes were coming back.

“They have found nothing,” said one Indian. “The two young rascals are hiding. Let us go home and wait till daylight.”

Robert drew breath and sank, swimming under water. When he broke out again the canoe had gone; and he veered for the shore and landed at last, and scuttling through the shallows he climbed out, well up stream. He rounded a cornfield and was in the woods. Whether he could yet get away he did not know; but they had not caught the Buck.

The night had settled; all the woods were black. After stumbling for a mile or two he also had to stop, and wait for daylight.

Now he was south of the fort, upon the fort side of the Monongahela. The Ottawas and Hurons would surely scout both sides of the river, in the morning, to find the trail of him and the Buck. He must be up at dawn, and making onward for Will’s Creek once more, to seek Washington. Before he curled to nap in a bed of leaves he clapped his hand to his belt. The letter from Strobo to Washington was gone!

Ho! He had lost it! It had slipped out, probably while he was running and stumbling from the river. Now what to do? He could go on and tell Washington about Strobo and about the fort—but if that letter were found upon his trail and taken back to the French, then Captain Strobo would die as a spy.

This should not be. He could see nothing now in the woods; his back trail was buried in the darkness: but he must hasten, the first thing, by morn light, and find that letter himself before the enemy pounced upon it. Of course, he would be heading right into the scouting parties——

Well, he had to make the try. He might at least find the letter and hide it before he was caught.

The Hunter slept uneasily this night. He was up early in the awakening day, and back-trailing; hungry he was, too. The forest was still dim, he could not travel fast as yet, for the little trail he had left was faint; and with his eyes upon the ground he had gone not half way to the river when he heard sudden distant whoops.

Those whoops he knew. They were rallying whoops—the enemy had discovered his foot-prints where he had left the river! Wah! Ottawas and Hurons would be coming fast. He was liable to run into them—he hoped that the letter had been lost in the river—about himself he did not care, and he was determined to go as far as he could, in order to save Captain Strobo if possible. And meanwhile the Buck would be getting away.