Washington was coming, Robert explained; and so was a red-coat General who would listen to reason, and was brave besides.
“He is Head of Iron,” approved Scarouady. “I have heard of him. Very well. But he can do nothing without Washington. And now you and I can do nothing. It is better to sit still and wait than to walk into the enemy.”
They waited. The woods paled, but the fog hung low and shut them in. Then, after a long wait, with the fog beginning to thin a little, first they smelled smoke, as if they might be near an Indian camp. Then, when the fog had thinned more, they could just see a house burning, to their right, in the cleared ground before the fort.
The house was between them and the hill that Robert had left; he had had no idea that he was so far in. Then, with the fog lifting rapidly, down out of it marched a company of soldiers, right into the cleared ground.
Now a cluster of Indian lodges could be seen close against the fort walls; the burning building was a fort storehouse; and the company of soldiers were Highlanders.
Where were the Major Lewis Buckskins? Had they got lost, too? Just what to do, Robert did not know. But Scarouady grunted.
“The petticoat warriors are fools, like the red-coats. You and I will stay out of this, for I see trouble.”
The Highland men had halted within cannon shot of the fort and several of them seemed to be making a map! The Indians at the fort were pointing, for the air was now bright. And then, from the hill, drums beat the reveille, as if daring the fort people to come out!
“Ugh!” uttered Scarouady. “Look! They wake up!”