"Now, since you would not let me shoot the villain," he said to Washington, "we must shoulder our packs and hurry away, and walk all night, or we shall never see Williamsburg."
"You are right, Gist, and we will be off at once; and the fellow may keep his meat till we come this way again," replied Washington, with as much composure as if their lives had not been in jeopardy. By the light of the camp fire their compass showed them which way to go.
The excitement of this perilous episode seemed to rest Washington's weary limbs, so that they traveled rapidly through the whole night, finding themselves at the head of Piney Creek in the morning. Washington's journal has the following entry for that day:
"The next day we continued traveling until quite dark, and got to the river, two miles above Shannopin's. We expected to have found the river frozen, but it was not, only about fifty yards from each shore. The ice, I suppose, had broken up above, for it was driving in vast quantities."
"What next?" said Gist, with an air which indicated that he recalled his warning words to Washington about the perils of such a journey. "If the Indian's bullet had taken effect we should have been saved some trouble here."
"A formidable difficulty, to be sure," answered Washington; "but a good share of wit and perseverance may overcome it. No way of getting over this stream, I think, except on a raft."
"A raft!" exclaimed Gist. "A raft would be swamped in a giffy by that ice. Besides, what have we to build a raft with? A hatchet alone will not do it."
"A hatchet is much better than nothing," responded Washington. "We will try what a hatchet can do towards it. If we fail, we will fail in trying."