with his bright hatchet and trusty rifle beside him. All this was very
soothing to the sorrow and gratifying to the fatherly pride of the old
sachem, and made him ever after a loving friend and faithful ally of
the English. I have told you this little story to show you, that this
testy and obstinate old general, with all his faults, was far from
being the hard, unfeeling man that he sometimes seemed; and also as a
tribute that every historian should pay to the memory of one whose
misfortune it has been to be blamed so much, and pitied so little.

By this time, Washington had so far regained his strength as to admit
of his being borne along in a covered wagon; and, setting out
accordingly, in five days came up with the advance division, where it
lay encamped in a beautiful spot about two miles from the Monongahela,
and fifteen miles from Fort Duquesne. Here he was joyfully welcomed by
both officers and men, with whom his generosity, and frank, manly
bearing, had made him a great favorite. Shortly after his arrival, Mr.
Gist and two Indian scouts, who had been sent out to reconnoitre or
spy out the enemy, came back with the cheering tidings, that the
re-enforcements had not yet come down from Canada, and that the
garrison in the fort was at present too weak to stand a single hour's
siege. But what gave him a little uneasiness was a lofty column of
smoke, rising from a deep and densely wooded hollow, where they were
quite sure the watchful enemy was lurking, and hatching some mischief
for the English.

Now, the fort and the camp lay on the same side of the river; and the
most direct route between them was by a narrow mountain pass, rising
abruptly from the water's edge on the left, and, on the right, shut
in by a steep and lofty hill, whose stony sides were overgrown with
laurel and stunted cedars and pines. As it was altogether out of the
question to drag their wagons and artillery along this pass, it was
resolved to cross the river, first at a point just over against the
camp, and then, moving down along the opposite bank, recross it at
another point five miles below; at both of which places the fords were
shallow, and the banks not high.

At last, the 9th of July, 1755,--a day ever to be remembered in
American annals,--began to dawn. Long before its first red light had
streaked the east, a hum in the camp told that the little army was,
even at that hour, all astir, and big with the bustle of preparation.
Officers a