John Penn’s fair face was as red as his scarlet cloak. Despite Allen’s urging he would not dismount, but turned his horse’s head toward the river. He rode to Queenaskawakee, now called Clark’s Ferry, where there was a famous fording, and, accompanied by his guard, he made the crossing and posted for the Juniata country. Near Raystown Branch he caught up with the company of riflemen and scouts organized by “Black Jack,” the Wild Hunter of the Juniata, who was waiting for General Braddock’s arrival to enlist in the proposed attack on Fort Duquesne at Shannopin’s Town, now Pittsburg. Black Jack was no stranger to him, having often met him at social gatherings at Peter Allen’s, and the greeting between the two men was very friendly. John Penn occupied the same cabin as the Wild Hunter, and he told him his story.
“It is not news to me,” said Captain Jack. “I heard it before, from Smithgall. He went through here last week hunting for Mary.”
Despite this reassuring information, Penn refused to believe anything but that the lovely Quakeress had proved false and eloped with the German-American serving man. Word came in a few days that the vanguard of General Braddock’s army had reached the Loyalhanna, and were encamped there. Captain Jack, with John Penn riding at his side, and followed by his motley crew with their long rifles–Germans, Swiss, Frenchmen, Dutchmen, Indians, half breeds, Negroes and Spaniards–approached the luxurious quarters of General Edward Braddock, late of the Coldstream Guards. The portly General, his breast blazing with decorations, wearing his red coat, was seated in a carved armchair in front of a log cabin erected for his especial use by his pioneers, who preceded him on the march. A Sergeant-Major conveyed the news of “The Wild Hunter’s” presence to the General’s Aide, who in turn carried it to the august presence.
“I cannot speak to such a fellow, let alone accept him as a brother officer,” said Braddock, irritably. “Besides, his methods of fighting are contrary to all discipline, and I want no Pennsylvania troops. Tell him that if he insists I will make him top-sergeant, and place my own officers over his company.”
Captain Jack was half angry, half amused, when the rebuff was handed to him via the sergeant major.
“My father was a Spanish gentleman from the Minisink, and my mother a woman of tolerably good Hessian blood. I see no reason for such rank exclusiveness.”
Quickly turning his horse’s head, the sturdy borderer ordered his troop to proceed eastward.
“Don’t act too rashly, Captain,” entreated Penn. “General Braddock is ignorant of this country and Indian methods of warfare. He may have orders not to enlist native troops, yet without your aid I fear for the success of his expedition. Please let me intercede with him; he will do it when he hears that I am your friend.”
“To the devil with him and his kind, the swinish snob,” growled Captain Jack, while his black eyes flashed a diabolical hatred; his Spanish temper was uncontrollable. That night, when Captain Jack and John Penn were seated at their camp fire at Laurel Run, a messenger, a Major, not a Sergeant Major, from General Braddock was announced.
Saluting, the officer asked to be allowed to speak with John Penn, Esquire. Penn received the officer without rising, and was cooly civil throughout the interview, which consisted principally of reading a letter from Braddock, expressing deep regret “that he had not known that the son of his dear friend, Richard Penn, had been with –-- Jack,” and offering Penn the captaincy of Black Jack’s company of scouts, “–-- Jack to be First Lieutenant.”