cked. We were to ford
the Monongahela at Crooked Run, march along the west bank to the mouth of
Turtle Creek, ford it a second time, and advance against the fort. Both
fords were described by the guides as very good ones and easy of
passage, while if we attempted to advance straight ahead on the east bank
of the river, we should encounter a very rough road, beside passing
through a country admirably fitted by nature for an ambuscade. Colonel
Gage was to march before daybreak to secure both fords, and the men
turned in with full assurance that the battle so long deferred and so
eagerly awaited was not far distant.

That night it so happened that I was placed in charge of one of the rear
pickets, and I sat with my back against a tree, smoking lazily and
wondering what the morrow would bring forth, when I heard a horse
galloping down the road, and a moment later the sharp challenge of a
sentry. I was on my feet in an instant, and saw that the picket had
evidently been satisfied that all was well, for he had permitted the
rider to pass. As he reached the edge of the camp, he emerged from the
shadow of the trees, and I started as I looked at him.

"Colonel Washington!" I cried, and as he checked his horse sharply, I was
at his side.

"Why, is it you, Tom?" he asked, and as I took his hand, I noticed how
thin it was. "Well, it seems I am in time."

"Yes," I said. "The battle, if there be one, must take place to-morrow."

"Why should there not be one?" he questioned, leaning down from his
saddle to see my face more clearly.

"The French may run away."

"True," he said, and sat for a moment thinking. "Yet it is not like them
to run without striking a blow. No, I believe we shall have a battle,
Tom, and I am glad that I am to be here to see it."

"But are you strong enough?" I asked. "You have not yet the air of a
well man."

He laughed lightly as he gathered up his reins. "In truth, Tom," he
said, "I am as weak as a man could well be and still sit his horse, but
the fever is broken and I shall be stronger to-morrow. But I must report
to the general. He may have work for me," and he set spurs to his horse
and was off.

I turned back to my station, musing on the iron will of this man, who
could drag his body from a bed of sickness when duty called and yet think
nothing of it. All about me gleamed the white tents in which the
grenadiers and provincials were sleeping, dreaming perchance of victory.
Alas, for how many o