From Farm House to the White House Part 22

The hardships of the return journey exceeded by far their previous experience, as indicated by Washington's journal:

"We had a tedious and very fatiguing pa.s.sage down the creek. Several times we had liked to have been staved against rocks, and many times were obliged all hands to get out and remain in the water half an hour or more, getting over the shoals. At one place the ice had lodged, and made it impa.s.sable by water; we were therefore obliged to carry our canoe across the neck of land, a quarter of a mile over. We did not reach Venango until the 22d, where we met with our horses.

"This creek is extremely crooked. I dare say the distance between the fort and Venango cannot be less than one hundred and thirty miles, to follow the meanders."

At Venango the horses, which Currin took there by land, were met, and the men relieved them by distributing the baggage among themselves in packs. In this way they traveled three days, the snow all the while increasing, and the horses becoming weaker and weaker. Washington saw that to keep with the party would delay his arrival at Williamsburg until the House of Burgesses had adjourned, which would be a disappointment to the public, as well as to the governor. If possible, the governor should receive his report before the adjournment of the a.s.sembly.

"There is only one way for us to go Mr. Gist," said Washington; "you and I must strike right through the wilderness alone, leaving the party to reach there as best they can. My report will be too late if we plod along in this way."

"It may be later if we undertake so perilous an adventure alone,"

responded Gist. "There is not one chance in ten of our ever reaching Williamsburg in that way."

"You are too fearful altogether," replied Washington. "I think you and I are equal to the undertaking. No doubt we shall have a rough time of it, but we are used to that; it will be no novelty to us."

"I shall abide by your decision," added Gist, "for you are commander of this expedition, and my duty is to obey. But I believe that both of us will repent of ever undertaking such an adventure."

"Well, then, I will take the responsibility," said Washington, "and you and I will take the nearest and quickest route home."

"Which may prove the longest, both in distance and time," retorted Gist.

Washington put the remainder of the party, together with the baggage and horses, into the care of Van Braam, with instructions and money. He himself had traveled for three days in an "Indian's walking dress," but now made a change described in his journal thus:

"I took my necessary papers, pulled off my clothes, and tied myself up in a watch-coat. Then, with gun in hand and pack on my back, in which were my papers and provisions, I set out with Mr. Gist, fitted in the same manner, on Wednesday, the 26th."

They traveled eighteen miles on that day, and stopped for the night at an Indian cabin. Washington usually traveled on horseback, so that he was unused to the hardships of such a journey on foot, and he was much exhausted.

They arose at two o'clock in the morning to continue their journey. When they reached Murdering Town, they fell in with an Indian who called Mr.

Gist by name.

"I saw you at Venango," said the Indian.

Then Mr. Gist recognized him as an Indian whom he saw at Joncaire's in Venango, when they were on their journey to the French fort, which fact made him somewhat suspicious of the redskin.

"I am glad to see you," insisted the Indian. "How does it happen that you are traveling on foot in this direction?"

"Our business requires it," was Gist's short reply.

"When did you leave Venango?" the Indian continued.

Mr. Gist informed him.

"Where did you leave your horses and the rest of your party?"

Mr. Gist answered evasively.

"And where are you going?"

"To the forks of the Alleghany as direct as we can go," Washington answered. "Can you go with us and show us the nearest way?"

"I can just as well as not," replied the Indian, "and I can take your pack along, too."

From this point Washington was considerably relieved by transferring his pack to the back of the savage. They traveled very rapidly for ten miles, when Washington's feet grew sore, and he became very weary.

"You are taking us too much northeasterly," said Mr. Gist to the Indian, suspicious that he was intentionally taking them out of their way.

"That is what I think," added Washington. "I am quite confident that we are bearing too much to the northeast."

The truth was, that both Washington and Mr. Gist were suspicious that the Indian was proving treacherous, though neither of them suggested the idea to the other.

"But let us encamp here," continued Washington, "for I need rest."

"I will carry your gun, and that will relieve you," said the Indian, a suggestion that strengthened suspicions already awakened.

"No; I prefer to carry my own gun," replied Washington; "you will do your part if you carry my pack."

"But it is not safe to encamp here," the Indian added, "for Ottawa Indians hunt in these woods, and they will scalp an Englishman wherever they find him. But if you will go to my cabin you are safe."

"And where is your cabin?" inquired Gist.

"So near that we could hear a gun if fired there now," the Indian replied.

Although strongly suspicious of his designs, both followed him for a distance, steering in a more northerly direction. Gist grew uneasy, and stopping, said, "I will go no farther."

"A whoop could be heard at my cabin now," the Indian insisted. "We shall soon be there."

They traveled two miles farther, when Washington remarked:

"I shall stop at the next place we find water, and you must stop, too,"

addressing the Indian. This was said in a decisive manner. In a few moments they emerged from the woods into a long meadow. The Indian was three or four rods in advance of them. Suddenly stopping and turning about, the treacherous savage aimed his gun at Gist, and fired.

"Are you shot?" cried Washington, rushing forward to his companion.

"Are you shot?"

"No; but it is what I feared from the time we employed the rascal to guide us," answered Gist. The shot missed.

The Indian ran behind a large white oak, Washington and Gist following after him. Approaching the tree, they discovered that he was reloading his gun.

"You rascal!" exclaimed Gist, raising his musket to give the Indian its contents.

"No; that won't do," said Washington to Gist, pushing aside his gun. "We are worse off when you have killed him than we are now." He thought the tribe would avenge his death by killing them.

"The villain deserves a bullet through his heart," shouted Gist, "and I can put one through with good relish."

"Very true," answered Washington with the most astonishing coolness, "but it is not good policy for us to take his life now."

Washington took away the Indian's gun and compelled him to walk ahead.

At the first run of water he ordered him to build a camp fire, as if he designed to encamp there for the night. When this was done Gist said to him: