I reached Richfield early in the evening. Governor Dunmore had retired against an early start for Williamsburg. It was Colonel Lewis’ wish that I ride without delay to Charles Lewis’ place at Staunton, something better than eighty miles, and confer with him over the situation on the frontier.
“My brother has recently received intelligences from Fort Pitt which state the Indians are anxious for peace,” explained the colonel.
“A parcel of lies,” I promptly denounced.
“So say I. But the written statements are very plausible. They have made an impression on Charles. It is very important that he know the truth. It will be much better for you to talk with him than for me to try to send him your statements in writing. Haste is necessary. Leave your horse and take one of mine.”
“Have your man bring out the horse. I will start now.”
“A prompt response,” he said. “And most pleasing. But to-morrow early will do. Spend the night here.”
“To-night. Now,” I insisted. “I need action.”
He gave me a sharp glance, then called his man and gave the order. While my saddle was being shifted he informed me:
“Ericus Dale and John Ward paid us a call. Dale and His Excellency had a rare bout of words. The fellow Ward didn’t say much, but he agreed to everything Dale said.”
“I know about the way Dale talked,” I gloomily said. “I talked with him before he came here. He thinks that Virginia is made up of fools, that only Pennsylvania knows how to handle the Indians.”