“The Indians,” said George, in a perfectly composed voice, reining up his horse.
“I see no Indians,” cried General Braddock, excitedly. “There is disorder in the ranks; have them closed up at once, and march in double time. We will soon find the enemy.”
But the firing from the invisible foe again broke forth, this time fiercer and more murderous than before. General Braddock, riding to the head of the first regiment, which had begun to waver, shouted the order for them to reform and fire. The veteran troops, as coolly as if on parade, closed up their ranks, and gave a volley, but it was as if fired in the air. They saw no enemy to fire at. Meanwhile the Virginia troops, after the first staggering effect of a terrific musketry fire poured into them by an unseen enemy, suddenly broke ranks, and, each man running for a tree, they took possession of the skirts of the woods. On seeing this General Braddock galloped up to George.
“Colonel Washington,” he cried, violently, “your Virginia troops are insubordinate! They have scattered themselves through the woods, and I desire them formed again in columns of fours to advance.”
“Sir,” answered George, in agony, “the ravines are full of Indians—many hundreds of them. They can slaughter us at their pleasure if we form in the open. The Virginians know how to fight them.”
“You are an inexperienced soldier, sir, and therefore I excuse you. But look at my English veterans—see how they behave—and I desire the Virginians to do the same.”
At that moment George’s horse fell upon his knees, and the next he rolled over, shot through the heart. The English regiments had closed up manfully, after receiving several destructive volleys, returning the fire of their assailants without seeing them and without producing the smallest effect. But suddenly the spectacle of half their men dead or wounded on the ground, the galloping about of riderless horses, the shrieks of agony that filled the air, seemed to unman them. They broke and ran in every direction. In vain General Braddock rode up to them, actually riding over them, waving his sword and calling to them to halt.
The men who had faced the legions of Europe were panic-stricken by this dreadful unseen foe, and fled, only to be shot down in their tracks. To make it more terrible, the officers were singled out for slaughter, and out of eighty-six officers in a very little while twenty-six were killed and thirty-seven wounded. General Braddock himself had his horse shot under him, and as he rolled on the ground a cry of pain was wrung from him by two musket-balls that pierced his body. Of his three aides, two lay weltering in their blood, and George alone was at his side helping him to rise.
Rash and obstinate as General Braddock might be, he did not lack for courage, and in that awful time he was determined to fight to the last.
“Get me another horse,” he said, with difficulty, to George. “Are you, too, wounded?”