They advanced several miles farther.  Then the Indian, who had fallen behind them, suddenly stopped.  On looking back they perceived that he had raised his gun, and was aiming at them.  The next instant the piece was discharged.

“Are you shot?” cried Washington.

“No,” answered Gist.

“After this fellow, then.”

The Indian had run to the shelter of a large white oak, behind which he was loading as fast as possible.  The others were quickly upon him, Gist with his gun at his shoulder.

“Do not shoot,” said Washington.  “We had best not kill the man, but we must take care of him.”

The savage was permitted to finish his loading, even to putting in a ball, but his companions took good heed to give him no further opportunity to play the traitor.  At a little run which they soon reached they bade the Indian to make a fire, on pretence that they would sleep there.  They had no such intention, however.

“As you will not have him killed,” said Gist, “we must get him away, and then we must travel all night.”

Gist turned to the Indian.  “I suppose you were lost, and fired your gun,” he said, with a transparent affectation of innocence.

“I know the way to my cabin,” replied the Indian “It is not far away.”

“Well, then, do you go home.  We are tired, but will follow your track in the morning.  Here is a cake of bread for you, and you must give us meat in the morning.”

The savage was glad enough to get away.  Gist followed and listened, that he might not steal back on them.  Then they went half a mile farther, where they made a fire, set their compass, and, after a short period of rest, took to the route again and travelled all night.

The next night they reached the Alleghany.  Here they were destined to experience a dangerous adventure.  They had expected to cross on the ice, but the river proved to be frozen only for a short distance from the shores.  That night they slept with the snow for a bed, their blankets for a covering.  When dawn appeared the same dubious prospect confronted them.  The current of the river still swept past, loaded with broken ice.

“There is nothing for it but a raft,” said Washington.  “And we have but one hatchet to aid us in making it.  Let us to work.”

To work they fell, but it was sunset before the raft was completed.  Not caring to spend another night where they were, they launched the raft and pushed from shore.  It proved a perilous journey.  Before the stream was half crossed they were so jammed in the floating ice that it seemed every moment as if their frail support would sink, and they perish in the swift current.  Washington tried with his setting-pole to stop the raft and let the ice run by.  His effort ended unfortunately.  Such was the strength of the current that the ice was driven against the pole with a violence that swept him from his feet and hurled him into water ten feet deep.  Only that chance which seems the work of destiny saved him.  He fell near enough to the raft to seize one of its logs, and after a sharp scramble was up again, though dripping with icy water.  They continued their efforts, but failed to reach either shore, and in the end they were obliged to spring from their weak support to an island, past which the current was sweeping the raft.