“To Washington?”
“Aye, or to the Governor of Virginia. That’s what the address said on the inside.” They had acted quickly, these Black Rifle men! “We thought you dead. Who sent you?”
“No tell,” replied the Hunter.
“Very good. Then you needn’t. You’ve been in the river; those French Injuns didn’t chase you for nothing; aye, you’re a brave boy. You shall have that Huron’s gun and fixin’s. And there’ll be scalps missing at Fort Duquesne.” Captain Jack laughed shortly. “Now, lads! We must put more distance behind us ere the pack howls on our trail.”
A very giant of a man picked Robert up; they all filed rapidly into the woods.
The Black Rifle’s band had been scouting upon Fort Duquesne. Now they were returning into Pennsylvania with the news that they had. The Hunter had a gun again, but a boy with his scalp ripped open by a tomahawk and with his head throbbing could not go to Will’s Creek alone. Every mile in company with the Captain Jack men took him farther from Will’s Creek and nearer to Aukwick, and Tanacharison and Scarouady and (he hoped) the Buck.
Therefore to Aukwick he went, instead of to Will’s Creek.
The Buck had got through! Here he was, his own message delivered. Strobo would be glad when he knew.
Tanacharison was sick in bed. All this fall the Mingos at Aukwick waited for word that the English were to drive the French from the Ohio. Scarouady made a trip to Onondago, to speak for the English before the council of the Iroquois. The Iroquois were growing tired. Said old Chief Hendrick, the Mohawk, to the English in Albany:
“The English pay us no attention, but the French are wise and active, and are always inviting us. You accuse the French of many things. When the French come, you run away. Look about your country. You have no forts. The French can come and turn you out of doors. They are men; they are making forts everywhere. But you are bare and open.”