Robert, Willet and Tayoga followed the retreating army only a short distance beyond the Monongahela.  They saw that Grosvenor, Stuart and Cabell had escaped with slight wounds, and, slipping quietly into the forest, they circled about Fort Duquesne, seeing the lights where the Indians were burning their wretched prisoners alive, and then plunging again into the woods.

Late at night they lay down in a dense covert, and exhausted, slept.  They rose at dawn, and tried to shake off the horror.

“Be of good courage, Robert,” said Willet.  “It’s a terrible blow, but England and the colonies have not yet gathered their full strength.”

“That is so,” said Tayoga.  “Our sachems tell us that he who wins the first victory does not always win the last.”

A bird on a bough over their heads began to sing a song of greeting to the new day, and Robert hoped and believed.