“What has become of your warlike Frenchmen, Mr. Willet?” asked Grosvenor.  “So far as this campaign is concerned they seem to excel as runners rather than warriors.”

“I confess that I’m surprised, Mr. Grosvenor,” replied the hunter.  “Beaujeu, St. Luc and Dumas are not the men to make a carpet of roses for us to march on.  There is something here that does not meet the eye.  What say you, Tayoga?”

“I like it not,” replied the Onondaga.  “In war I fear the forest when it is silent.”

Near them a small circle of land had been cleared and in it stood a house, lone and deserted.  It had been built by a trader named Fraser and in it Washington, who had visited it once before on a former mission, and one or two others sat, during the period of rest and refreshment.  The young Virginian, despite his great frame and gigantic strength, was so much wasted by fever that, when he came forth to remount, he was barely able to keep his place in his saddle.

Now the merry trumpets sang again and the red and blue column, lifting itself up, resumed its march along the trail through the forest toward Duquesne.  The river was on one side and a line of high hills on the other, but the forest everywhere was dense and in its heaviest foliage.  Braddock, despite the safe passage of the ford, was not reckless.  A troop of guides and Virginia light horsemen led the way.  A hundred yards behind them came the vanguard, then Gage with a picked body of British troops, after them the axmen, who had done such great work, behind them the main body of the artillery, the wagons and the packhorses, while a strong force of regulars and Virginians closed up the rear.  Scouts and skirmishers ranged the flanks, though they were ordered to go not more than a few hundred yards away.

Robert, Tayoga and Willet were with the guides at the very apex of the column, and they continually searched the forests and the thickets with keen eyes for a possible enemy.  But all was quiet there.  The game, frightened by the advancing army, had gone away.  Not a leaf, not a bough stirred.  The blazing sun, now near the zenith, poured down fiery rays and it was hot in the shade of the great trees that grew so closely together.

Robert and the other scouts and guides in the apex marched on soundless feet, but he heard close behind him the tread of the Virginia light horsemen, behind them the steady march of the regulars under Gage, and behind them the deep hum and murmur of the army, the creaking of wheels and the clank of the great guns.  Despite the following sounds he was conscious all the time of the deep, intense silence in the forest on either side of him.  The birds, like the game, had gone away, and there was no flash of blue or of flame among the green leaves.

“There’s a dip just ahead,” said Willet, pointing to a wide ravine filled with bushes that ran directly across the trail.

They continued their steady advance, and Robert’s heart fluttered, but when they came to the ravine they found it empty of everything save the bushes, and the scouts and guides, plunging into it, crossed to the other side.  The light horsemen of Virginia followed, after them Gage’s regulars and then the main army drew on its red and blue length, expecting to cross in the same way.