CHAPTER IX. THE NIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN HORSE SHOE. On a fine day, in the pleasant month of August of the year 1714, a large party of horsemen rode along Duke of Gloucester Street in the city of Williamsburg, Virginia, while the men, women and children of the place flocked to the doors of the houses, cheering and waving their handkerchiefs, as the gallant cavaliers passed by. They were gaily dressed in the showy costumes worn by the gentlemen of that time, and at their head was a handsome and vigorous man, with the erect bearing and manly attitude of one who had served in the wars. They were all mounted on spirited horses and carried their guns on their saddles, carried to hunt, or perhaps to defend themselves if attacked. Behind them followed a string of mules carrying the packs of the horsemen and in charge of mounted servants. Thus equipped, the showy cavalcade passed through the main streets of the small town, which had succeeded Jamestown as the Virginian capital, and rode away over the westward leading road. On they went mile after mile. After just joining them as they passed onward, the parties steadily increasing in numbers until it reached a place called Germana, on the rapid an, now the rapidan river, on the edge of the spot-sylvania wilderness. No doubt you will wish to know who these men were and what was the object of their journey. It was a romantic one, as you will learn, a journey of adventure into the unknown wilderness. At that time Virginia had been settled more than a hundred years, yet its people knew very little about it beyond the seaboard plain. West of this rose the Blue Ridge Mountains, behind which lay a great mysterious land almost as unknown as the mountains of the moon. There were people as late as that who thought that the Mississippi River rose in these mountains. The Virginians had given this land of mystery a name. They called it Orange County. There were rumors that it was filled with great forests and lofty mountains that it held fertile valleys watered by beautiful rivers, that it was a realm of strange and wonderful scenes. The Indians who had been driven from the east were still numerous there and wild animals peopled the forests plentifully, but few of the whites had ventured within its confines. Now and then a daring hunter had crossed the Blue Ridge into this country and brought back surprising tales of what was to be seen there, but nothing that could be trusted was known about the land beyond the hills. All this was of great interest to Alexander Spotswood, who was then Governor of Virginia. He was a man whose life had been one of adventure and who had distinguished himself as a soldier at the famous battle of Blenheim, and he was still young and fond of adventure when the king chose him to be Governor of the oldest American colony. We did not propose to tell the whole story of Governor Spotswood, but as he was a very active and enterprising man some of the things he did may be of interest. He had an oddly shaped powder magazine built at Williamsburg, which still stands in that old town, and he opened the College of William and Mary free to the sons of the few Indians who remained in the settled part of Virginia. Then he built iron furnaces and began to smelt iron for the use of the people. Those were the first iron furnaces in the colonies, and the people called him the Tubal Cane of Virginia after a famous worker in iron mentioned in the Bible. His furnaces were at the settlement of Germana, where the expedition made its first stop. This name came from a colony of Germans whom he had brought there to work his iron mines and forges. After what has been told it may not be difficult to guess the purpose of the expedition. Governor Spotswood was practical enough to wish to explore the mysterious land beyond the blue-peaked hills, and romantic enough to desire to do this himself instead of sending out a party of pioneers. So he sent word to the planters that he proposed to make a holiday excursion over the mountains, and would gladly welcome any of them who wished to join. We may be sure that there were plenty, especially among the younger men, who were glad to accept his invitation, and on the appointed day many of them came riding in with their servants and pack mules well laden with provisions and stores, for they looked on the excursion as a picnic on a large scale. One thing they had forgotten—a very necessary one. At that time iron was scarce and costly in Virginia, and as the roads were soft and sandy, as they still are in the seaboard country, it was the custom to ride horses barefooted, there being no need for iron shoes. But now they were about to ride up rocky mountain paths and over the stony summits, and it was suddenly discovered that their horses must be shod. So all the smiths available were put actively at work making horseshoes and nailing them on the horses' feet. It was this incident that gave rise to the name of the Knights of the Golden Horseshoe, as will appear farther on. At Germana Governor Spotswood had a summer residence, to which he retired when the weather grew sultry in the lower country. Colonel William Byrd, a planter on the James River, has told us all about this summer house of the governor. One of his stories is that when he visited there a tame deer, frightened at seeing him, leaped against a large mirror in the drawing-room thinking that it was a window, and smashed it into splinters. It is not likely the governor thanked his visitor for that. After leaving Germana, the explorers soon entered a region quite unknown to them. They were in high spirits, for everything about them was new and delightful. The woods were in their full August foliage, the streams gurgling, the birds warbling, beautiful views on every hand, and the charm of nature's domain on all sides. At midday they would stop in some green forest-glade to rest and pasture the horses, and enjoy the contents of their packs with a keen appetite, given by the fresh forest air. To these repasts the hunters of the party added their share, disappearing at intervals into the woods and returning with pheasant, wild turkey, or mayhap a fat deer, to add to the woodland feast. At night they would hobble their horses and leave them to graze, would eat heartily of their own food with the grass for tablecloth, and a fresh appetite for sauce, then wrapping their cloaks around them would sleep as soundly as if in their own beds at home. The story of the ride has been written by one of the party, and it goes in much the way here described. The mountains were reached at length, and up their rugged sides the party rode, seeking the easiest paths they could find. No one knows just where this was, but it is thought that it was near Rockfish Gap, through which the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad now passes. There are some who say that they crossed the valley between the Blue Ridge and rode over the Allegheny Mountains also. But this is not at all likely. When they reached the summit of the range and looked out to the West, they saw before them a wild but lovely landscape. A broad valley through whose midst ran a beautiful river, the Shenandoah, an Indian name that means daughter of the stars. To the right and left, the mountain range extended as far as the eye could reach. The hill summits and side covered everywhere with verdant forest trees. In front, far off across the valley rose the long blue line of the Alleghenys concealing new mysteries beyond. The party gazed around in delight and carved their names on the rocks to mark the spot. A peak near at hand they named Mount George in honor of George I, who had just been made king, and a second one Mount Alexander in honor of the governor, and they drank the health of both. Then they rode down the western slope into the lovely valley they had gazed upon. Here they had no warlike or romantic adventures, fights with Indians or wild beasts, but they had a very enjoyable time. After a delightful ride through the valley they recrossed the mountains and rode joyously homeward to tell the people of the plain the story of what they had seen. We have said nothing yet of the golden horseshoe. That was a fanciful idea of Governor Spotswood. He thought the excursion and the fine valley it had explored were worthy to be remembered by making them the basis of an order of knighthood. He was somewhat puzzled to think of a good name for it, but at length he remembered the shoeing of the horses at Williamsburg, so he decided to call it the order of the golden horseshoe, and sent to England for a number of small golden horseshoes, one of which he gave to each of his late companions. There was a Latin inscription on them signifying, thus we swear to cross the mountains. When the king heard of the expedition he made the governor a knight, under the title of Sir Alexander Spotswood. But we think a better title for him was that he won for himself. Sir Knight of the Golden Horseshoe. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of Historical Tales, Vol. 2, American 2. Chapter 10. How Oglethorpe saved Georgia from Spain. On the fifth day of July, in the year 1742, unwanted signs of activity might have been seen in the usually deserted St. Simon's Harbour on the coast of Georgia. Into that sequestered bay there sailed a powerful squadron of fifty-six well-armed war vessels, one of them carrying twenty-four guns, and two of them twenty guns each, while there was a large following of smaller vessels. A host of men in uniform crowded the decks of these vessels, and the gleam of arms gave luster to the scene. It was a strong Spanish fleet sent to rest the province of Georgia from English hands, and mayhem, to punish these intruders in the murderous ways that the Spaniards had punished the French Huguenots two centuries before. In all the time that had elapsed since the discovery of America, Spain had made only one settlement on the Atlantic coast of the United States, that of St. Augustine in Florida. But slow as they were in taking possession, they were not slow in making claims, for they looked on Florida as extending to the Arctic zone. More than once had they tried to drive the English out of Charleston, and now they were about to make a similar effort in Georgia. That colony had been settled only ten years before on land which Spain claimed as her own, and the English were not there long before hostilities began. In seventeen thirty-nine, General Oglethorpe, the proprietor of Georgia, invaded Florida and laid siege to St. Augustine. He failed in his undertaking, and in seventeen forty-two the Spaniards prepared to take revenge, sending the strong fleet mentioned against their foes. It looked as if Georgia would be lost to England, for on these vessels were five thousand men, a force greater than all Georgia could raise. Oglethorpe knew that the Spaniards were coming and made hasty preparations to meet them. Troops of rangers were raised, the planters were armed, fortifications built, and a ship of twenty-two guns equipped. But with all his efforts his force was pitifully small as compared with the great Spanish equipment. Besides the ship named, there were some small armed vessels and a shore battery with which the English for four hours kept up a weak contest with their foes. Then the fleet sailed past the defences and up the river before a strong breeze, and Oglethorpe was obliged to spike the guns and destroy the war material at Fort St. Simon's and withdraw to the stronger post of Frederica, where he proposed to make his stand. Not long afterward, the Spaniards landed their five thousand men four miles below Frederica. These marched down the island and occupied the deserted fort. There may not seem to our readers much of interest in all this, but when it is learned that against the fifty-six ships and more than five thousand men of the Spaniards, the utmost force that General Oglethorpe could muster consisted of two ships and six hundred and fifty two men, including militia and Indians, and that with this handful of men he completely baffled his assailants, the case grows more interesting. It was largely an example of tactics against numbers, as will be seen on reading the story of how the Spaniards were put to the right about and forced to flee in utter dismay. On the seventh of July some of the Georgia Rangers discovered a small body of Spanish troops within a mile of Frederica. On learning of their approach, Oglethorpe did not wait for them to attack him in his not very powerful stronghold, but at once advanced with a party of Indians and Rangers, and a company of Highlanders who were on parade. Ordering the regiment to follow he hurried forward with this small detachment proposing to attack the invaders while in the forest defiles and before they could deploy in the open plain near the fort. So furious was his charge and so utter the surprise of the Spaniards that nearly their entire party consisting of one hundred and twenty-five of their best woodsmen and forty-five Indians were either killed, wounded, or made prisoners. The few fugitives were pursued for several miles through the forest to an open meadow or savannah. Here the general posted three platoons of the regiment and a company of Highland foot under cover of the wood so that any Spaniards advancing through the meadow would have to pass under their fire. Then he hastened back to Frederica and mustered the remainder of his force. Just as they were ready to march, severe firing was heard in the direction of the ambushed troops. Oglethorpe made all haste towards them and met two of the platoons in full retreat. They had been driven from their post by Don Antonia Barba at the head of three hundred Grenadiers and infantry who had pushed through the meadow under a drifting rain and charged into the wood with wild hazzas and rolling drums. The affair looked very bad for the English. Forced back by a small advance guard of the invaders, what would be their fate when the total Spanish army came upon them? Oglethorpe was told that the whole force had been routed, but on looking over the men before him, he saw that one platoon and a company of Rangers were missing. At the same time the sound of firing came from the woods at a distance, and he ordered the officers to rally their men and follow him. Let us trace the doings of the missing men. Instead of following their retreating comrades, they had, under their officers Lieutenant Sutherland N. McKay, made a skillful detour in the woods to the rear of the enemy, reaching a point where the road passed from the forest to the open marsh across a small semi-circular cove. Here they formed an ambush guard in a thick grove of palmettos which nearly surrounded the narrow pass. They had not been there long when the Spaniards returned in high glee from their pursuit. Reaching this open spot, well protected from assault as it appeared by the open morass on one side and the crescent-shaped hedge of palmettos and underwood on the other, they deemed themselves perfectly secure, stacking their arms and throwing themselves on the ground to rest after their late exertions. The ambushed force had keenly watched their movements from their hiding place, preserving utter silence as the foe entered the trap. At length Sutherland N. McKay raised the signal of attack, a highland cap upon a sword, and in an instant a deadly fire was poured upon the unsuspecting enemy. Volley after Volley succeeded, strewing the ground with the dead and dying. The Spaniards sprang to their feet in confusion and panic. Some of their officers attempted to reform their broken ranks, but in vain. All discipline was gone, orders were unheard, safety alone was sought. In a minute more with a highland shout, the platoon burst upon them with level bayonet and gleaming claymore, and they fled like panic-stricken deer, some to the marsh where they mired and were captured, some along the defile where they were cut down, some to the thicket where they became entangled and lost. Their defeat was complete, only a few of them escaping to their camp. Barba, their leader, was mortally wounded. Other officers and 160 privates were killed. The prisoners numbered twenty. The feet of arms was as brilliant as it was successful, and Oglethorpe, who did not reach the scene of action till the victory was gained, promoted the two young officers on the spot as a reward for their valor and military skill. The scene of the action has ever since been known as the Bloody Marsh. The enterprise of the Spaniards had so far been attended by misfortune, a fact which caused dissension among their leaders. Learning of this, Oglethorpe resolved to surprise them by a night attack. On the twelfth, he marched with five hundred men until within a mile of the Spanish quarters, and after nightfall went forward with a small party to reconnoitre. His purpose was to attack them, if all appeared favourable, but he was foiled by the treachery of a Frenchman in his ranks, who fired his musket and deserted to the enemy under cover of the darkness. Disconcerted by this unlucky circumstance, the general withdrew his reconnoitering party. Reaching his men, he distributed the drummers about the wood to represent a large force, and ordered them to beat the Grenadiers' march. This they did for half an hour. Then, all being still, they retreated to Frederica. The defection of the Frenchman threw the general into a state of alarm. The fellow would undoubtedly tell the Spaniards how small a force opposed them, and advise them that with their superior land and naval forces they could easily surround and destroy the English. In this dilemma it occurred to him to try the effect of stratagem, and seek to discredit the traitor's story. He wrote a letter in French, as if from a friend of the deserter, telling him that he had received the money, and advising him to make every effort to convince the Spanish commander that the English were very weak. He suggested to him to offer to pilot up their boats and galleys, and to bring them under the woods where he knew the hidden batteries were. If he succeeded in this, his pay would be doubled. If he could not do this, he was to use all his influence to keep them three days more at Fort St. Simon's. By that time the English would be reinforced by two thousand infantry and six men of war which had already sailed from Charleston. In a post-script he was cautioned on no account to mention that Admiral Vernon was about to make an attack on St. Augustine. This letter was given to a Spanish prisoner who was paid a sum of money on his promise that he would carry the letter privately and deliver it to the French deserter. The prisoner was then secretly set free and made his way back to the Spanish camp. After being detained and questioned at the outposts he was taken before the general, Don Manuel de Montiano. So far, all had gone as Oglethorpe hoped. The fugitive was asked how he had escaped, and if he had any letters. When he denied having any he was searched and the decoy letter found on his person. It was not addressed to any one, but on promise of pardon he confessed that he had received money to deliver it to the Frenchman. As it proved, the deserter had joined the English as a spy for the Spaniards. He earnestly protested that he was not false to his agreement, that he knew nothing of any hidden battery or of the other contents of the letter, and that he had received no money or had any correspondence with Oglethorpe. Some of the general's counsel believed him and looked on the letter as an English trick, but the most of them believed him to be a double spy and advised an immediate retreat. While the counsel was warmly debating on this subject, word was brought them that three vessels had been seen off the bar. This settled the question in their minds. The fleet from Charleston was at hand. If they stayed longer they might be hemmed in by sea and land. They resolved to fly while the path to safety was still open. Their resolution was hastened by an advance of Oglethorpe's small naval force down the stream and a successful attack on their fleet. Setting fire to the fort, they embarked so hastily that a part of their military stores were abandoned and fled as if from an overwhelming force, Oglethorpe hastening their flight by pursuit with his few vessels. Thus ended this affair, one of the most remarkable in its outcome of any in the military history of the United States. For 15 days General Oglethorpe, with little over six hundred men and two armed vessels, had baffled the Spanish general with 56 ships and five thousand men, defeating him in every encounter in the field and at length, by an ingenious stratagem, compelling him to retreat with the loss of several ships and much of his provisions, munitions, and artillery. In all our colonial history there is nothing to match this repulse of such a formidable force by a mere handful of men. It had the effect of saving Georgia, and perhaps Carolina, from falling into the hands of the Spanish. From that time forward Spain made no effort to invade the English colonies. The sole, hostile action of the Spaniards of Florida was to inspire the Indians of that peninsula to make raids in Georgia, and this annoyance led in the end to the loss of Florida by Spain. Chapter 11 A Boy's Working Holiday in the Wild Wood We wish to say something here about a curious old man who lived in Virginia when George Washington was a boy, and who was wise enough to see that young Washington was anything but a common boy. This man was an English nobleman named Lord Fairfax. As the nobles of England were not in the habit of coming to the colonies except as governors, we must tell what brought this one across the sea. It happened in this way. His grandfather, Lord Culpepper, had at one time been governor of Virginia, and like some other governors, had taken care to feather his nest. Seeing how rich the land was between the Potomac and Rappahannac rivers, when he went home he asked the king to give him all this land, and the king, Charles II, in his good easy way of giving away what did not belong to him, readily consented, without troubling himself about the rights of the people who lived on the land. A great and valuable estate it was. Not many dwelt on it, and Lord Culpepper promised to have it settled and cultivated, but we cannot say that he troubled himself much about doing so. When old Culpepper died, the Virginia land went to his daughter, and from her it descended to her son Lord Fairfax, who sent out his cousin William Fairfax to look after his great estate, which covered a whole broad county in the wilderness, and counties in those days were often very large. Lord Fairfax was not much concerned about the American Wildwood. He was one of the fashionable young men in London society, and something of an author, too, for he helped the famous Addison by writing some papers for the spectator. But noblemen, like common men, are liable to fall in love, and this, Lord Fairfax did. He became engaged to be married to a handsome young lady, but she proved to be less faithful than pretty, and when a noblemen of higher rank asked her to marry him, she threw her first lover aside and gave herself to the richer one. This was a bitter blow to Lord Fairfax. He went to his country home, and dwelt there in deep distress, vowing that all women were false-hearted, and that he would never marry any of them. And he never did. Even his country home was not solitary enough for the broken-hearted lover, so he resolved to cross the ocean and seek a new home in his wilderness land in America. It was this that brought him to Virginia, where he went to live at his cousin's fine mansion called Belvoir, a place not far away from the Washington estate of Mount Vernon. Lord Fairfax was a middle-aged man at that time, a tall, gaunt, nearsighted personage who spent much of his time in hunting, of which he was very fond. And his favorite companion in these hunting excursions was young George Washington, then a fine, fresh, active boy of fourteen who dearly loved outdoor life. There was a strong contrast between the Old Lord and the youthful Virginian, but they soon became close friends, riding out fox hunting together and growing intimate in other ways. Lawrence Washington, George's elder brother, who lived at Mount Vernon, had married a daughter of William Fairfax, and that brought the Mount Vernon and Belvoir families much together, so that when young George was visiting his brother, he was often at Belvoir. Lord Fairfax grew to like him so much that he resolved to give him some important work to do. He saw that the boy was strong, manly, and quick-witted, and anxious to be doing something for himself, and as George had made some study of surveying, he decided to employ him at this. Lord Fairfax's Virginia estate, as we have said, was very large. The best known part of it lay east, but it also crossed the Blue Ridge Mountains and ran over into the beautiful valley beyond which the knights of the Golden Horse Shoe had visited more than thirty years before. This splendid valley was still largely in a wild state, with few inhabitants besides the savage Indians and wild beasts. Before it could be fairly open to settlers, it must be measured by the surveyor's chain and mapped out so that it would be easy to tell where any tract was located. It was this that Lord Fairfax asked young Washington to do, and which the active boy gladly consented to undertake, for he liked nothing better than wild life and adventure in the wilderness, and here was the chance to have a delightful time in a new and beautiful country, an opportunity that would warm the heart of any live and healthy boy. This is a long introduction to the story of Washington's wild wood outing, but no doubt you will like to know what brought it about. It was in the early spring of 1748 that the youthful surveyor set out on his ride, the blood bounding warmly in his veins as he thought of the new sensations and stirring adventures which lay before him. He was not alone. George William Fairfax, a son of the Master of Belvoir, went with him, a young man of twenty two. Washington was then just sixteen, young enough to be in high spirits at the prospect before him. He brought his surveyor's instruments, and they both bore guns as well, for they looked for some fine sport in the woods. The valley beyond the mountains was not the land of mystery which had been thirty-four years before, when Governor Spotswood and his gay troop looked down on it from the Green Mountain Summit. There were now some scattered settlers in it, and Lord Fairfax had built himself a lodge in the wilderness, which he named Greenway Court, and where now and then he went for a hunting excursion. Crossing the Blue Ridge at Ashby's Gap and fording the bright Shenandoah, the young surveyors made their way towards this wildwood lodge. It was a house with broad stone gables, its sloping roof coming down over a long porch in front. The locality was not altogether a safe one. There were still some Indians in that country, and something might stir them up against the whites. In two belfries on the roof hung alarm bells to be rung to collect the neighboring settlers if report of an Indian rising should be brought. On the forest road leading to Greenway Court, a white post was planted, with an arm pointing toward the house as a direction to visitors. As the post decayed or was thrown down by any cause another was erected, and on this spot today such a post stands, with the village of White Post built around it. But when young Washington and Fairfax passed the spot only forest trees stood round the post, and they rode on to the court where they rested a while under the hospitable care of Lord Fairfax's manager. It was a charming region in which the young surveyors found themselves after their brief term of rest, a land of lofty forests and broad grassy openings, with the silvery river sparkling through their midst. The buds were just bursting on the trees, the earliest spring flowers were opening, and to right and left extended long blue mountain ranges, the giant guardians of the charming valley of the Shenandoah. In those days there were none of the yellow green fields, the old mansion surrounded by groves, the bustling villages and towns which now mark the scene, but nature had done her best to make it picturesque and beautiful, and the youthful visitors enjoyed it as only those of young blood can. Up the banks of the Shenandoah went the surveyors, measuring and marking the land, and mapping down its leading features. It was no easy work, but they enjoyed it to the full. At night they would stop at the rude house of some settler if one was to be found. If not, they would build a fire in the woods, cook the game their guns had brought down, wrap their cloaks around them, and sleep heartily under the broad blanket of the open air. Thus they journeyed on up the Shenandoah until they reached the point where its waters flow into the Potomac. Then up this stream they made their way, crossing the mountains and finally reaching the place which is now called Berkeley Springs. It was then in the depth of the wilderness, but in time, a town grew up around it, and many years afterward, Washington and his family often went there in the summer to drink and bathe in its wholesome mineral waters. The surveyors had their adventures, and no doubt often made the Woodland Echoes ring with the report of their guns as they brought down partridge or pheasant, or tracked a deer through the brushwood. Nothing of special note happened to them, the thing which interested them most being the sight of a band of Indians, the first they had ever seen. The red men had long since disappeared from the part of Virginia in which they lived. These tenants of the forest came along one day when the youths had stopped at the house of a settler. There were about thirty of them in their war paint, and one of them had a fresh scalp hanging at his belt. This indicated that they had recently been at war with their enemies, of whom at least one had been killed. The Indians were given some liquor in return for which they danced their war dance before the boys. For music one of them drummed on a deerskin, which he stretched over an iron pot, and another rattled a gourd containing some shot and ornamented with a horses tail. The others danced with wild whoops and yells around a large fire they had built. Altogether the spectacle was a singular and exciting one on which the boys looked with much interest. While they had no serious adventures, their life in the forest was not a very luxurious one. In many ways they had to rough it. At times they were drenched by downpours of rain. They slept anywhere, now and then in houses, but most often in the open air. On one occasion some straw on which they lay asleep caught fire, and they woke just in time to escape being scorched by the flames. I have not slept above three or four nights in a bed, wrote George to a friend. But after walking a good deal all the day I have lain down before the fire on a little straw or fodder or a bearskin, whatever was to be had, with man, wife and children, like dogs and cats, and happy is he who gets the birth nearest the fire. Their cooking was often done by impaling the meat on sharp sticks and holding it over the fire, while chips cut with their hatchet took the place of dishes. But to them all this was enjoyment, their appetites were hardy, and anything having the spice of adventure was gladly welcomed. It was the event of their young lives. It was still April when they returned from their long river ride to Greenway Court, and here enjoyed for some time the comforts of civilization, so far as they had penetrated that frontier scene. Spring was still upon the land, though summer was nearby, when George and his friend rode back across the Blue Ridge and returned to Belvoir with the report of what they had done. Lord Fairfax was highly pleased with the report and liked George more than ever for the faithful and intelligent manner in which he had carried out his task. He paid the young surveyor at the rate of seven dollars a day for the time he was actually at work, and half this amount for the remaining time. This was worth a good deal more than the same sum of money would be now, and was very good pay for a boy of sixteen. No doubt, the lad felt rich with the first money he had ever earned in his pocket. As for Lord Fairfax, he was in high glee to learn what a valuable property he had across the hills, and especially how fine a country it was for hunting. He soon left Belvoir and made his home at Greenway Court, where he spent the remainder of his life. It was a very different life from that of his early days in the bustle of fashionable life in London, but it seemed to suit him as well or better. One thing more we have to say about him. He was still living at Greenway Court when the Revolutionary War came on. A loyalist in grain, he bitterly opposed the rebellion of the colonists. By the year seventeen eighty-one he had grown very old and feeble. One day he was in Winchester, a town which had grown up not far from Greenway, when he heard loud shouts and cheers in the streets. What is all that noise about, he asked his old servant. They say that General Washington has took Lord Cornwallis and all his army prisoners. Yorktown is surrendered and a war is over. Take me to bed, Joe, grown the old lord. It is time for me to die. Five years after his surveying excursion, George Washington had a far more famous adventure in the wilderness when the Governor of Virginia sent him through the forest to visit the French forts near Lake Erie. The story of this journey is one of the most exciting and romantic events in American history. Yet it is one with which most readers of history are familiar, so we have told the tale of his earlier adventures instead. His forest experience on the Shenandoah had much to do with making Governor Din Whitty choose him as his envoy to the French forts, so that it was, in a way, the beginning of his wonderful career. Historical Tales Volume II American II by Charles Morris Chapter XII Patrick Henry, the Herald of the Revolution There was a day in the history of the Old Dominion when a great lawsuit was to be tried. A great one that is to the people of Hanover County where it was heard and to the colony of Virginia, though not to the country at large. The Church of England was the legal church in Virginia, whose people were expected to support it. This the members of other churches did not like to do, and the people of Hanover County would not pay the clergymen for their preaching. This question of paying the preachers spread far and wide. It came to the house of Burgesses, which body decided that the people need not pay them. It crossed the ocean and reached the King of England, who decided that the people must pay them. As the King's voice was stronger than that of the Burgesses, the clergy felt that they had an excellent case, and they brought a lawsuit to recover their claims. By the old law, each clergyman was to be paid his salary in tobacco. One hundred and sixty thousand pounds wait a year. There seemed to be nothing to do but pay them, either in cash or tobacco. All the old lawyers who looked into the question gave it up at once, saying that the people had no standing against the King and the clergy. But while men were saying that the case for the county would be passed without a trial and verdict rendered for the clergy, an amusing rumor began to spread around. It was said that young Patrick Henry was going to conduct the case for the people. We call this amusing, and so it was to those who knew Patrick Henry. He was a lawyer, to be sure, but one who knew almost nothing about the law and had never made a public speech in his life.  In his boyhood days he had spent his time in fishing, hunting, dancing, and playing the fiddle, instead of working on his father's farm. As he grew older he liked sport too much and worked too little to make a living. He tried storekeeping and failed through neglect of his business. He married a wife whose father gave him a farm, but he failed with this, too—fishing and fiddling when he should have been working, and in two years the farm was sold. Then he went back to storekeeping and with the same result. The trouble was his love for the fiddle and the fishing line which stood very much in the way of business. He was too lazy and fond of a good company and a good time to make a living for himself and his wife. The easygoing fellow was now in a critical situation. He had to do something if he did not want to starve, so he borrowed some old law books and began to read law. Six weeks later he applied to an old judge for a license to practice in the courts. The judge questioned him and found that he knew nothing about the law, but young Henry pleaded with him so ardently and promised so faithfully to keep on studying that the judge gave him the license and he hung out his shingle as a lawyer. Whatever else Patrick Henry might be good for, people thought that to call himself a lawyer was a mere laughing matter. An awkward, stooping, ungainly fellow dressed roughly in leather breeches and yarn stockings, and not knowing even how to pronounce the king's English correctly, how could he ever succeed in a learned profession? As a specimen of his manner of speech at that time, we are told that once, when denying the advantages of education, he clinched the argument by exclaiming, Nitral parts are better than all the learning on earth. As for the law, he did not know enough about it to draw up the simplest law paper. As a result he got no business and was forced as a last resort to help keep a tavern which his father-in-law possessed at Hanover Courthouse. And so he went on for two or three years, till 1763 when the celebrated case came up. Those who knew him might well look on it as a joke when the word went round that Patrick Henry was going to plead against the Parsons. That so ignorant a lawyer should undertake to handle a case which all the old lawyers had refused might well be held as worthy only of ridicule. They did not know Patrick Henry. It is not quite sure that he knew himself. His father sat on the bench as a judge, but what he thought of his son's audacity, history does not say. When the day for the trial came, there was a great crowd at Hanover Courthouse, for the people were much interested in the case. On the opening of the court the young lawyer crossed the street from the tavern and took his seat behind the bar. What he saw was enough to dismay and confuse a much older man. The courtroom was crowded, and every man in it seemed to have his eyes fixed on the daring young counsel, many of them with covert smiles on their faces. The twelve men of the jury were chosen. There were present a large number of the clergy waiting triumphantly for the verdict, which they were sure would be in their favour, and looking in disdain at the young lawyer. On the bench as judge sat John Henry, doubtless feeling that he had a double duty to perform, to judge at once the case and his son. The aspiring advocate, so little learned it in the law and so poorly dressed and ungainly in appearance, looked as if he would have given much just then to be out of the court and clear of the case. But the die was cast, he was in for it now. The counsel for the clergymen opened the case. He dwelt much on the law of the matter, whose exact meaning he declared was beyond question. The courts had already decided on that subject, and so had his sacred Majesty the King of England. There was nothing for the jury to do he asserted, but to decide how much money his clients were entitled to under the law. The matter seemed so clear that he made but a brief address and sat down with a look of complete satisfaction. As he did so, Patrick Henry rose. This, as may well be imagined, was a critical moment in the young lawyer's life. He rose very awkwardly and seemed thoroughly frightened. Every eye was fixed on him and not a sound was heard. Henry was in a state of painful embarrassment. When he began to speak his voice was so low that he could hardly be heard, and he faltered so sadly that his friends felt that all was in an end. But as he himself had once said, Nitral parts are better than all the learning on earth, and he had these Nitral parts, as he was about to prove. As he went on, a change in his aspect took place. His form became erect, his head uplifted, his voice clearer and firmer. He soon began to make it appear that he had thought deeply on the people's cause and was prepared to handle it strongly. His eyes began to flash, his voice to grow resonant and fill the room. In the words of William Vort, his biographer, as his mind rolled along and began to glow from its own action, all the exuviae of the clown seemed to shed themselves spontaneously. The audience listened in surprise, the clergy and consternation. Was this the Patrick Henry they had known? It was very evident that the young advocate knew just what he was talking about, and he went on with a forcible and burning eloquence that fairly carried away every listener. There was no thought now of his clothes and his uncouthness. The man stood revealed before them, a man with a gift of eloquence such as Virginia had never known before. He said very little on the law of the ease, knowing that to be against him, but he addressed himself to the jury on the rights of the people and of the colony, and told them it was their duty to decide between the House of the Burgesses and the King of England. The Burgesses, he said, were their own people, men of their own choice, who had decided in their favour. The King was a stranger to them and had no right to order them what to do. Here he was interrupted by the old council for the clergy, who rose in great indignation and exclaimed, the gentleman has spoken treason. We do not know just what words Henry used in reply. We have no record of that famous speech. But he was not the man to be frightened by the word treason and did not hesitate to repeat his words more vigorously than before. As for the parsonce he declared, their case was worthless. Men who led such lives as they were known to have done had no right to demand money from the people. So bitterly did he denounce them that all those in the room rose and left the court in a body. By the time the young advocate had reached the end of his speech the whole audience was in a state of intense excitement. They had been treated to the sensation of their lives and looked with utter astonishment at the marvellous orator who had risen from obscurity to fame in that brief hour. Breathless was the interest with which the jury's verdict was awaited. The judge charged that the law was in favour of the parsonce and that the king's order must be obeyed. But they had the right to decide on the amount of damages. They were not long in deciding. And their verdict was the astounding one of one penny damages. The crowd was now beyond control. A shout of delight and approbation broke out. Upproar and confusion followed the late Decarus quiet. The parson's lawyer cried out that the verdict was illegal and asked the judge to send the jury back. But his voice was lost in the acclamations of the multitude. Gathering round Patrick Henry they picked him up bodily, lifted him to their shoulders and bore him out, carrying him in triumph through the town which rang loudly with their cries and cheers. Thus it was that the young lawyer of Hanover rose to fame. Two years after that memorable day Patrick Henry found himself in a different situation. He was now a member of the dignified House of Burgesses, the oldest legislative body in America. An aristocratic body it was, made up mostly of wealthy landholders, dressed in courtly attire and sitting in proud array. There were few poor men among them and perhaps no other plain countrymen to compare with the new member from Hanover County, who had changed but little in dress and appearance from his former aspect. A great question was before the House. The Stamp Act had been passed in England and the people of the colonies were in a high state of indignation. They rose in riotous mobs and vowed they would never pay a penny of the tax. As for the Burgesses they proposed to act with more loyalty and moderation. They would petition the King to do them justice. It was as good as rebellion to refuse to obey him. The member from Hanover listened to their debate and said to himself that it was weak and its purpose futile. He felt sure that the action they proposed would do no good and when they had fairly exhausted themselves he rose to offer his views to the question at issue. Very likely some of the fine gentlemen there looked at him with surprise and indignation. Who was this presumptuous new member who proposed to tell the older members what to do? Some of them may have known him and been familiar with that scene in Hanover Courthouse.  But Patrick Henry now knew his powers and cared not a wit for their respectable sentiments. He had something to say and proposed to say it. Beginning in a quiet voice he told them that the Stamp Act was illegal as ignoring the right of the House to make the laws for the colony. It was not only illegal but it was oppressive and he moved that the House of Burgesses should pass a series of resolutions which he would read. These resolutions were respectful in tone but very decided in meaning. The last of them declared that nobody but the Burgesses had the right to tax Virginians. This statement roused the House. It sounded like rebellion against the King. Several speakers rose together and all of them denounced the resolutions as injudicious and impertinent. The excitement of the loyalists grew as they proceeded but they subsided into silence when the man who had offered the resolutions rose to defend them. Patrick Henry was aroused. As he spoke his figure grew straight and erect, his voice loud and resonant, his eye flashed, the very sweep of his hand was full of force and power. He, for one, was not prepared to become a slave to England and her King. He denounced the Islanders who proposed to rob Americans of their vested rights. In what way was an Englishman better than a Virginian, he asked? Were they not of one blood and born with the same right to liberty and justice? What right had the Parliament to act the tyrant to the colonies? Then, referring to the King, he bade him in thundering tones to beware of the consequences of his acts. Caesar had his Brutus, he exclaimed, in tones of thrilling force, Charles I, his Cromwell, and George III. Treason, treason came from a dozen excited voices, but Henry did not flinch. May profit by their example. Then in a quieter tone, he added, if this be treason, make the most of it. He took his seat, he had said his words. These words still roll down the tide of American history as resonantly as when they were spoken. As for the House of Burgesses, it was carried away by the strength of this wonderful speech. When the resolutions came to a vote, it was seen that Henry had won. They were carried, even the last and most daring of them by one vote majority. As the Burgesses tumultuously adjourned, one member rushed out in great excitement, declaring that he would have given five hundred skinnies for one vote to defeat the treasonable resolutions. But the people with delight heard of what had passed, and as Henry passed through the crowd, a plain countryman clapped him on the shoulder, exclaiming, Stick to us, old fellow, or we are gone. Ten years later, in the old Church of St. John's at Richmond, Virginia, standing not far from the spot where the old Indian Emperor Powhatan once resided, a convention was assembled to decide on the state of the country. Rebellion was in the air. In a month more, the first shots of the revolution were to be fired at Lexington. Patrick Henry, still the same daring patriot as of old, rose and moved that Virginia be immediately put in a state of defense. This raised almost as much opposition as his former resolutions in the House of Burgesses, and his blood was boiling as he rose to speak. It was the first speech of his that has been preserved, and it was one that still remains surpassed in the annals of American eloquence. We give its concluding words. He exclaimed in tones of thunder, There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. Our chains are forged, their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable, and let it come. I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, peace, peace, but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. What is it the gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, almighty God. I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death. His motion was passed and Virginia told the world that she was ready to fight. A month later there came from the north the clash of resounding arms. The American Revolution was launched. It is not easy to say what we would have done without Patrick Henry, says Thomas Jefferson. His eloquence was peculiar. If indeed it should be called eloquence, for it was impressive and sublime beyond what can be imagined. After all, it must be allowed that he was our leader. He left us all far behind. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The first blood shed by rebels in America, in those critical years when the tide of events was setting strong towards war and revolution, was by the settlers on the upper waters of the Cape Fear River in North Carolina. A hardy people these were of that Highland Scotch stock whose fathers had fought against oppression for many generations. Coming to America for peace and liberty, they found bitter oppression still and fought against it as their ancestors had done at home. It is the story of these sturdy regulators that we have here to tell. It was not the tyranny of king or parliament with which these liberty lovers had to deal, but that of Governor Tryon, the king's representative in this colony, and one of the worst of all the royal governors. Bancroft has well described his character. The Cherokee chiefs, who knew well the cruelty and craft of the most pernicious beast of prey in the mountains, ceremoniously distinguished the governor by the name of the Great Wolf. It was this Great Wolf who was placed in command over the settlers of North Carolina and whose lawless acts drove them to rebellion. Under Governor Tryon, the condition of the colony of North Carolina was worse than that of a great city under the rule of a political boss. The people were frightfully over taxed, illegal fees were charged for every service, juries were packed, and costs of suits at law made exorbitant. The officers of the law were insolent and arbitrary, and by trickery and extortion managed to rob many settlers of their property. And this was the more hateful to the people from the fact that much of the money raised was known to go into the pockets of officials, and much of it was used by Governor Tryon in building himself a costly and showy palace. Such was the state of affairs which led to the rebellion in North Carolina. Many of the people of the mountain districts organized under the name of regulators, binding themselves to fight against illegal taxes and fees, and not to pay them unless forced to do so. The first outbreak took place in 1768 when a regulator rode into Hillsborough, and Colonel Fanning wantonly seized his horse for his tax. It was quickly rescued by a mob armed with clubs and muskets, some of which were fired at Fanning's house. This brought matters to a head. Supported by the Governor, Fanning denounced the regulators as rebels, threatened to call out the militia, and sent out a secret party who arrested two of the settlers. One of these, Herman Husbands, had never joined the regulators or been concerned in any tumult, and was seized while quietly at home on his own land. But he was bound, insulted, hurried to prison and threatened with the gallows. He escaped only by the payment of money and the threat of the regulators to take him by force from the jail. The next step was taken after Governor Tryon had promised to hear the complaints of the people and punish the men guilty of extortion. Under this promise, Husbands brought suit against Fanning for unjust imprisonment. At once the Governor showed his real sentiment. He demanded the complete submission of the regulators, called out 1500 armed men, and was said to intend to rouse the Indians to cut off the men of Orange County as rebels. In spite of this threatening attitude of the Governor, Husbands was acquitted on every charge, and Fanning was found guilty on six separate indictments. There was also a verdict given against three regulators. This was the decision of the jury alone. That of the judges showed a different spirit. They've punished Fanning by finding him one penny on each charge, while the regulators were each sentenced to fifty pounds fine and six months imprisonment. To support this one-sided justice, Tryon threatened the regulators with fire and sword, and they remained quietly at home, brooding moodily over their failure but hesitating to act. We must now go on to the year 1770. The old troubles had continued, illegal fees and taxes, speculation and robbery. The sheriffs and tax collectors were known to have embezzled over fifty thousand pounds. The costs of suits at law had so increased that justice lay beyond the reach of the poor. And back of all this reigned Governor Tryon and his palace, supporting the spoilers of the people. So incensed did they become that at the September Court, finding that their cases were to be ignored, they seized Fanning and another lawyer and beat them soundly with cow-hide whips, ending by a destructive raid on Fanning's house. The Assembly met in December. It had been chosen under a state of general alarm. The regulators elected many representatives, among them the persecuted Herman Husbands, who was chosen to represent Orange County. This defiant action of the people roused the Great Wolf again. Husbands had been acquitted of everything charged against him, yet Tryon had him voted a disturber of the peace and expelled from the house, and immediately afterward had him arrested and put in prison without bail, though there was not a grain of evidence against him. The Governor followed this act of violence with a riot act of the most oppressive and illegal character. Under it, if any ten men assembled and did not disperse when ordered to do so, they were to be held guilty of felony. For a riot committed either before or after this act was published, any persons accused might be tried before the Superior Court, no matter how far it was from their homes, and if they did not appear within sixty days, with or without notice, they were to be proclaimed outlaws and to forfeit their lives and property. The Governor also sent out a request for volunteers to march against the rebels, but the Assembly refused to grant money for this warlike purpose. Governor Tryon had shown himself as unjust and tyrannous as Governor Berkeley of Virginia had done in his contest with Bacon. It did not take him long to foment the rebellion which he seemed determined to provoke. When the regulators heard that their representative had been thrown into prison, and that they were threatened with exile or death as outlaws, they prepared to march on Newborn for the rescue of husbands, filling the Governor with such alarm for the safety of his fine new palace that he felt it wise to release his captive. He tried to indict the sturdy Highlander for a pretended libel, but the grand jury refused to support him in this, and husbands was set free. The regulators thereupon dispersed after a party of them had visited the Superior Court at Salisbury, and expressed their opinion very freely about the lawyers, the officials, and the riot act which they declared had no warrant in the laws of England. As yet, the regulators had done little more than to protest against tyranny and oppression, and to show an intention to defend their representative against unjust imprisonment, yet they had done enough to arouse their lordly governor to revenge. Rebels they were, for they had dared to question his acts, and rebels he would hold them. As the grand jury would not support him in his purpose, he took steps to obtain juries and witnesses on whom he could rely, and then brought charges against many of the leading regulators of Orange County, several of whom had been quietly at home during the riots of which they were accused. The Governor's next step was to call the grand jury to his palace and volunteer to them to lead troops into the western countries, the haunt of the regulators. The jurymen who were his own creatures hastened to applaud his purpose, and the council agreed. The Assembly refused to provide funds for such a purpose, but Tryon got over this difficulty by issuing a paper currency. A force of militia was now raised in the lower part of the colony, and the country of the regulators invaded. Tryon marched at the head of a strong force into Orange County, and proceeded to deal with it as if it were a country conquered in war. As he advanced, the wheat fields were destroyed, and the orchards felled. Every house found empty was burned to the ground. Cattle, poultry, and all the produce of the plantations were seized. The terrified people ran together like sheep pursued by a wolf. The men who had been indicted for felony at Newburn, and who had failed to submit themselves to the mercy of his packed juries and false witnesses, were proclaimed outlaws whose lives and property were forfeit. Never had the colonies been so spoiled on such slight pretense. Thus, marching onward like a conquering general of the Middle Ages, leaving havoc and ruin in his rear. On the evening of March 14th, 1771, Tryon reached the Great Alamance River, at the head of a force of a little over one thousand men. About five miles beyond this stream were gathered the regulators who had fled before his threatening march. They were probably superior in number to Tryon's men, but many of them had no weapons, and they were principally concerned, lest the governor would not lend an ear to the just complaints of the people. These rebels were certainly not in the frame of mind to make rebellion successful. The regulators were not without a leader. One of their number, James Hunter, they looked upon as their general, a title of which his excellent capacity and high courage made him worthy. On the approach of Tryon, at the head of his men, James Hunter and Benjamin Merrill advanced to meet him. They received from him this ultimatum. I require you to lay down your arms, surrender up the outlawed ring leaders, submit yourselves to the laws, and rest on the lenity of the government. By accepting these terms, in one hour you will prevent an effusion of blood, as you are at this time in a state of war and rebellion.  There was not an outlaw among them, for not one of them had been legally indicted. As to the lenity of the government, they had an example before their eyes in the wanton ruin of their houses and crops. With such a demand nothing was left them but to fight. Tryon began the action by firing a field-piece into the group of regulators. At this the more timid of them, perhaps only the unarmed ones, withdrew. But the bold remainder returned the fire and a hot conflict began which was kept up steadily for two hours. The battle at first in the open field soon shifted to the woodland, where the opponents sheltered themselves behind trees and kept up the fight. Not until their ammunition was nearly gone and further resistance was impossible did Hunter and his men retreat, leaving Tryon master of the field. They had lost twenty of their number besides the wounded and some prisoners taken in the pursuit. Of Tryon's men nine were killed and sixty-one wounded. Thus ended the effray known as the Battle of the Alamance, in which were fired the first shots for freedom from tyranny by the people of the American colonies. The victorious governor hastened to make revengeful use of his triumph. He began the next day by hanging James Few, one of the prisoners, as an outlaw and confiscating his estate. A series of severe proclamations followed and his troops lived at free quarters on the regulators, forcing them to contribute provisions and burning the houses and laying waste the plantations of all those who had been denounced as outlaws. On his return to Hillsborough the governor issued a proclamation denouncing Herman husbands, James Hunter and some others, asking every person to shoot them at sight and offering a large reward for their bodies, alive or dead. Of the prisoners still in his hands he had six of them hung in his own presence for the crime of treason. Then, some ten days later, having played the tyrant to the full in North Carolina, he left that colony for ever, having been appointed governor of New York. The colony was saddled by him with an illegal debt of forty thousand pounds which he left for its people to pay. As for the fugitive regulators there was no safety for them in North Carolina and the governors of South Carolina and Virginia were requested not to give them refuge, but they knew of a harbor of refuge to which no royal governors had come, over which the flag of England had never waved and where no lawyer or tax collector had yet set foot, in that sylvan land west of the Alleghenies, on which few besides Daniel Boone the famous hunter, had yet set foot. Here was a realm for a nation and one on which nature had lavished her richest treasures. Here in spring the wild crab-apple filled the air with the sweetest of perfumes. Here the clear mountain streams flowed abundantly, the fertile soil was full of promise of rich harvests, the climate was freshly invigorating and the west winds with the seeds of health. Here were broad groves, hickory and oak, of maple, elm, and ash in which the elk and the red deer made their haunts and the black bear, whose flesh the hunter held to be delicious beyond rivalry, fattened on the abundant crop of acorns and chestnuts. In the trees and on the grasses were quail, turkeys, and pigeons numberless, while the golden eagle built its nest on the mountain peaks and swooped in circles over the forest land. Where the thickets of spruce and rhododendron threw their cooling shade upon the swift streams, the brook trout was abundant, plenty and promise were everywhere, and aside from the peril of the prowling savage the land was a paradise. It was not in Kentucky where Boone then dwelt alone, but in Tennessee that the fugitive regulators sought a realm of safety. James Robertson, one of their number, had already sought the land beyond the hills and was cultivating his fields of maize on the Wataugas Fertile Banks. He was to become one of the leading men in later Tennessee. Hither the regulators fleeing from their persecutors followed him, and in 1772 founded a republic in the wilderness by a written compact, Robertson being chosen one of their earliest magistrates. Thus still defiant of persecution they set to the people of America the dangerous example of erecting themselves into a separate state distinct from and independent of the authority of the British King. Thus we owe to the regulators of North Carolina the first decided step in the great struggle for independence so soon to come. And to North Carolina we must give the credit of making the earliest declaration of independence. More than a year before Jefferson's famous declaration the people of Mecklenburg County passed a series of resolutions in which they declared themselves free from allegiance to the British Crown. This was in May 1775. On April 12th, 1776 North Carolina authorized her delegates in the Continental Congress to declare for independence. Thus again the old North State was the first to set her seal for liberty. The old regulators had not all left her soil, and we seem to hear in these resolutions an echo of the guns which were fired on the Alamance in the first stroke of the colonists of America for freedom from tyranny. End of Chapter 13, Chapter 14 of Historical Tales Volume 2, American 2, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Historical Tales Volume 2, American 2 by Charles Morris. Chapter 14, Lord Dunmore and the Gunpowder. In the city of Williamsburg the old capital of Virginia there still stands a curious old powder magazine, built nearly two centuries ago by Governor Spotswood, the hero of the Golden Horseshoe adventure. It is a strong stone building with eight sided walls and a roof which looks as if it might stand for centuries to come. On this old magazine hinges a revolutionary tale which seems to us well worth the telling. The story begins on April 19th, 1775, the day that the shots at Lexington brought on the war for independence. The British government did not like the look of things in America. The clouds in the air and the occasional lightning flash and thunder roar were full of threat of a coming storm. To prevent this orders were sent from England to the royal governors to seize all the powder and arms in the colonies on a fixed day. This is what Governor Gage of Massachusetts tried to do at Concord on April 19th. In the night of the same day Lord Dunmore, Governor of Virginia, attempted the same thing at Williamsburg. Had this been done openly in Virginia as in Massachusetts the story of Lexington would have been repeated there. Lord Dunmore took the Patriots by surprise. A British ship of war, the Magdalen, some time before came sailing up York River and dropped its anchor in the stream not far from Williamsburg. On the 19th of April Lord Dunmore sent word to Captain Collins of the Magdalen that all was ready and after dark on that day a party of soldiers led by the Captain landed from the ship. About midnight they marched silently into the town. All was quiet, the people in their beds, sleeping in sleep of the just and not dreaming that treachery was at their doors. The Captain had the key to the magazine and opened its door, setting his soldiers to carry out as quietly as possible the half barrels of gun powder with which it was stored. They came like ghosts and so departed. All was done so stealthily that the morning of the 20th dawn before the citizens knew that anything had been going on in their streets under the midnight shadows. When the news spread abroad the town was in an uproar. What right had the Governor to meddle with anything bought with the hard cash of Virginia and belonging to the colony? In their anger they resolved to seize the Governor and make him answer to the people for his act. They did not like Lord Dunmore, whom they knew to be a false-hearted man, and would have liked to make him pay for some former deeds of treachery. But the Cooler heads advised them not to act in haste, saying that it was wiser to take peaceful measures and to send and tell Dunmore that their powder must be returned. This was done. The Governor answered with a falsehood. He said that he had heard of some danger of an insurrection among the slaves in a neighboring county and had taken the powder to use against them. If nothing happened he would soon return it. They need not worry. All would be right. This false story quieted the people of Williamsburg for a time, but it did not satisfy the people of Virginia. As the news spread through the colony, the excitement grew intense. What right had Lord Dunmore to carry off the people's powder bought for their defense? Many of them seized their arms and at Fredericksburg, 700 men assembled and sent word they were ready to march on Williamsburg. Among them were the Minutemen of Culpeper, a famous band of frontiersmen wearing green hunting shirts and carrying knives and tomahawks. Liberty or death, Patrick Henry's stirring words, were on their breasts and over their heads floated a significant banner. On it was a coiled rattlesnake with the warning motto, Don't tread on me. Prompt as these men were, there was one man in Virginia still more prompt, a man not to be trifled with by any lordly governor. This was Patrick Henry, the patriotic orator. The instant he heard of the stealing of the powder he sent word to the people in his vicinity to meet him at Newcastle ready to fight for Virginia's rights. They came, one hundred and fifty of them all well armed and without hesitation he led them against the treacherous governor. It looked as if there was to be a battle in Virginia as there had been in Massachusetts. Lord Dunmore was scared when he heard that the patriots were marching on him as they had marched on Lord Berkeley a century before. He sent word hastily to Patrick Henry to stop his march and that he would pay for the powder. Very likely this disappointed the indignant orator. Just then he would rather have fought Dunmore than take his money. But he had no good excuse for refusing it so the cash was paid over, three hundred and thirty pounds sterling equal to about sixteen hundred dollars and Henry and his men marched home. Lord Dunmore was in a towering rage at his defeat. He did what Berkeley had done against Bacon long before, issuing a proclamation in which he said that Patrick Henry and all those with him were traitors to the king. Then he sent to the Magdalen for soldiers and had arms laid on the floors of his lordly mansion ready for use when the troops should come. All was ripe for an outbreak. The people of Virginia had not been used to see British troops on their soil. If Lord Dunmore wanted war they were quite ready to let him have it. Arms were lacking and some young men broke open the door of the magazine to see if any were there. As they did so there was a loud report and one of the party fell back bleeding. A spring gun had been placed behind the door, doubtless by Lord Dunmore's orders. The startling sound brought out the people. When they learned what had been done they ran angrily to the magazine and seized all the arms they could find there. In doing so they made a discovery that doubled their indignation. Beneath the floor several barrels of gunpowder were hidden as if to blow up anyone who entered. While they were saying that this was another treacherous trick of the governors word was brought them that the troops from the Magdalen were marching on the town. With shouts of fury they ran for their arms. If Lord Dunmore was so eager for a fight they were quite ready to accommodate him and to stand up before his British soldiers and strike for American rights. A few words will end this part of our story. When the governor saw the spirit of the people he did as Berkeley before him had done, fled to his ships and relieved Williamsburg of his presence. The Virginians had got rid of their governor and his British troops without a fight. This ends the story of the gunpowder but there were things that followed worth telling. Virginia was not done with Lord Dunmore. Sailing in the Magdalen to Chesapeake Bay he found there some other war vessels and proceeded with this squadron to Norfolk of which he took possession. Most of the people of that town were true patriots though by promises of plunder he induced some of the lower class of whites to join him and also brought in many Negro slaves from the country around. With this motley crew he committed many acts of violence rousing all Virginia to resistance. A committee of safety was appointed and hundreds of men eagerly enlisted and were sent to invest Norfolk but their enemy was not easy to find as they kept out of reach most of the time on his ships. On December 9 1775 the first battle of their revolution in the south took place. The Patriot forces at that time were at a place called Great Bridge near the Dismal Swamp and not far from Norfolk. Against them Dunmore sent a body of his troops. These reached Great Bridge to find at a small wooden bridge over a stream and to see the Americans awaiting them behind a breastwork which they had thrown up across the road at the opposite end of the bridge. Among them were the Culpeper Minutemen of whom we have spoken with their rattlesnake standard and one of the lieutenants in their company was a man who was to become famous in after years. John Marshall the celebrated Chief Justice of the United States. The British posted their cannon and opened fire on the Virginians. Then when they fancied they had taken the spirit out of the backwards militia a force of grenadiers charged across the bridge led by Captain Fortis. He proved himself a good soldier but he found the Colonials good soldiers too.  Then the crack of rifles was heard and a line of fire flashed out all along the blow breastwork and it came from Huntsmen who knew how to bring down their game. Many of the grenadiers fell before this scorching fire. Their line was broken and thrown into confusion. Captain Fortis at their head waved his hat shouting the day is ours. The words were barely spoken when he fell. In an instant he was on his feet again brushing his knee as if he had only stumbled. Yet the brave fellow was mortally wounded no less than fourteen bullets having passed through his body and after a staggering step or two he fell dead. This took the courage out of the grenadiers. They fell back in disorder upon the bridge hastened by the bullets of the Patriots. At every step some of them fell. The Virginians their standard bearer at their head leaped with cheers of triumph over the breastwork and pursued them driving them back in panic flight and keeping up the pursuit till the fugitives were safe in Norfolk. Thus ended in victory the first battle for American liberty on the soil of the south. Lord Dunmore had confidently expected his bold grenadiers to return with trophies of their victory over the untrained colonials.  At first he refused to believe it and threatened to hang the boy who brought him the news. But the sight of the blood-stained fugitives soon convinced him and in a sudden panic he took refuge with all his forces in his ships. The triumphant Virginians at once took possession of the town. Dunmore lingered in the harbor with his fleet and the victors opened fire with their cannon on the ships.  Do your worst! retorted the bold Virginia commander and bade his men to keep their cannons going. The ruthless governor kept his word bombarding the town with red hot shot and soon it was in flames. The fire could not be extinguished for three days it raged spreading in all directions till the whole town was a sheet of flames. Not until there was nothing left to burn did the flames subside. Norfolk was a complete ruin. Its six thousand inhabitants, men, women and children, were forced to flee from their burning homes and seek what scant refuge they could find in that chill winter season. Dunmore even landed his troops to fire on the place. Then, having visited the peaceful inhabitants with the direst horrors of war, he sailed in triumphal way, glorying in his revenge. The lordly governor now acted the pirate in earnest. He sailed up and down the shores of Chesapeake Bay, landing and plundering the plantations on every side.  Just what was his purpose in this is not known, for the Virginians gave him no chance to carry it out. General Andrew Lewis, a famous Indian fighter, led a force of patriot volunteers against him, planting his cannon on the shore opposite the island and opened a hot fire on the fort and the ships. The first ball fired, struck the Dunmore, the ship which held the governor. A second struck the same ship and killed one of its crew. A third smashed the governor's crockery and a splinter wounded him in the leg. This was more than the courage of a Dunmore could stand, and sail was set in all haste, the fleet scattering like a flock of frightened birds. The firing continued all day long. Night came, and no signs of surrender were seen, though the fire was not returned. At daylight the next morning two hundred men were sent in boats to reconnoiter and attack the fort. They quickly learned that there was nothing to attack. Lord Dunmore had been preparing all night for flight. The fort had been dismantled of everything of value, and as the assailants sprang from their boats on the island the ships sailed hurriedly away. The island itself was a sickening spectacle. The cannonade had made terrible havoc, and men lay dead or wounded all around, while many of the dead had been buried so hastily as to be barely covered. While they were looking at the frightful scene a strong light appeared in the direction of the governor's flight. Its meaning was evident at a glance. Some of the vessels had grounded in the sands, and as they could not be got off he had set them afire to save them from the enemy. That was almost the last exploit of Lord Dunmore. He kept up his plundering raids a little longer, and once sailed up the Potomac to Mount Vernon with the fancy that he might find and capture Washington. But soon after that he sailed away with his plunder, and about one thousand slaves whom he had taken from the plantations, and Virginia was well rid of her last royal governor. A patriot governor soon followed, Patrick Henry being chosen, and occupying the very mansion at Williamsburg from which Dunmore had proclaimed him a traitor. CHAPTER XV One of the great needs of the Americans in the War of the Revolution was ammunition. Gunpowder and cannonballs were hard to get and easy to get rid of, being fired away with the utmost generosity whenever the armies came together, and sought for with the utmost solicitude when the armies were apart. The patriots made what they could and bought what they could, and on one occasion sent as far as New Orleans on the lower Mississippi to buy some ammunition which the Spaniards were willing to sell. But it was one thing to buy this much needed material, and another thing to get it where it was needed. In those days it was a long journey to New Orleans and back. Yet the only way to obtain the ammunition was to send for it, and a valiant man named Colonel David Rogers, a native of Virginia or Maryland, was chosen to go and bring it. His expedition was so full of adventure and ended in such a tragic way that it seems well worth telling about. It was from the old red stone fort on the Monongahela River, one of the two streams that make up the Ohio, that the expedition was to start, and here Colonel Rogers found the boats and men waiting for him at the end of his ride across the hill country. There were forty men in the party, and embarking with these, Rogers soon floated down past Fort Pitt and entered the Ohio, prepared for a journey of some thousands of miles in length. It was in the summer of the year 1778 that these bold men set out on a perilous journey, from which few of them were to return. But what might come troubled them little. The weather was pleasant, the trees along the stream were charming in their summer foliage, and their hearts were full of hope and joy, as they floated and rowed down the beautiful river, as it had been named by the Indians and the French. They needed indeed to be alert and watchful, for they knew well that hundreds of hostile savages dwelt in the forest depths on both sides of the stream, eager for blood and scalps. But the rough frontiersmen had little fear of the Indians, with the water beneath them and their good rifles beside them, and they sang their border songs and chatted in jovial tones as they went steadily onward, eating and sleeping in the boats, for it was nowhere safe to land. In this way they reached the mouth of the Ohio in safety, and turned their prowls into the broader current of the Mississippi. The first important stopping point of the expedition was at the spot made historic by De Soto and Marquette, at the mouth of the Arkansas River, or the Ozark, as it was then called. Here stood a Spanish fort near the locality where La Salle a century earlier had spent a pleasant week with their friendly Arkansas Indians. Colonel Rogers had been told about this fort and advised to stop there and confer with its commander. As he came near them he notified the Spaniards of his approach by a salvo of rifle shots, firing thirteen guns in honor of the fighting colonies, and as a salute to the lords of the stream. The Spanish officer, in command, replied with three cannon shots, the woods echoing back their report. Colonel Rogers now landed and marched at the head of his men to the fort, over them floating the stars and stripes, a newborn standard yet to become glorious, and to wave in honor all along that stream on whose banks it was then for the first time displayed. As they came near the fort, they were met by the Spanish commandant, Captain de Ville, with his troops drawn up behind him, and the flag of Spain waving as if in salute to the new banner of the United States. The Spaniard met Rogers with dignified courtesy, both of them making low bows and exchanging words of friendly greeting. de Ville invited his guests into the fort, and by way of entertaining the Americans put his men through a series of parade movements near the fort. The two officers looked on from the walls, de Ville in his showy Spanish uniform, and Rogers gay with his gold-laced hat and silver hilted sword. These performances at an end, Colonel Rogers told his host the purpose of his expedition, and was informed by him that the war material which he was seeking was no longer at New Orleans, but had been removed to a fort farther up the river, near the locality where the city of St. Louis now stands. If the Colonel had been advised this sooner, he might have saved himself a long journey. But there was the possibility that the officer at the St. Louis Fort would refuse to surrender the ammunition without orders from his superiors. Besides this, he had been directed to go to New Orleans. So on the whole, he thought it best to obey orders strictly and to obtain from the Spanish Governor an order to the commandant of the fort to deliver the goods. There was one difficulty in the way. The English had a hold on the river at a place called Naches, where, as Captain de Ville told the Colonel, they had built a fort. They might fire on him in passing and sink his boats, or force him to land and hold in prisoner. To escape this peril, Colonel Rogers left the bulk of his men at the Spanish Fort, taking only a single canoe and a half dozen men with him. It was his purpose to try and slip past the Naches Fort in the night, and this was successfully done. The canoe gliding passed unseen and conveying the small parties safely to New Orleans. Our readers no doubt remember how a century before this time, the Chevalier LaSalle floated down the Great River and claimed all the country surrounding it for the King of France. Later on, French settlers came there and in 1718 they laid out the town of New Orleans, which soon became the capital of the province. The settlements here did not grow very fast, and it does not seem that France valued them highly, for in 1763, after the British had taken Canada from the French, all the land west of the Mississippi was given up by France to Spain. This was to pay that country for the loss of Florida, which was given over to England. That is how the Spaniards came to own New Orleans, and to have forts along the river, where French forts had once been. Colonel Rogers found the Spanish Governor at New Orleans as obliging as Captain de Ville had been. He got an order for the ammunition without trouble, and had nothing before him but to go back upstream again. But that was not so easy to do. The river ran so swiftly that he found it would be no light manner to row his canoe up against the strong current. There was also the English fort at Natchez to pass, which might be very dangerous when going slowly upstream. So he concluded to let the boat go, and travel by land through the forest. This also was a barred task in a land of dense cane breaks and matted woodland, and the small party had a toilless time of it in pushing through the woods. At length, however, the Spanish fort on the Ozark was reached, and the men of the expedition were reunited. Bidding farewell to Captain de Ville, they took to their boats again and rowed upstream past the mouth of the Ohio until Fort St. Louis was reached. The Colonel was received here with the same courtesy as below, and on presenting his order was given the ammunition without question. It was carefully stowed in the boats, goodbye was said to the officer who had auspitably entertained them, the oars were brought into play again, and the expedition started homeward. So far, all had gone well. The journey had been slow and weeks had lengthened into months, but no misadventure had happened, and their hearts were full of hope as the deeply laden craft were rowed into the Ohio and began the toilsome ascent of that stream. It was now the month of October. There was an autumn snap in the air, but this only fitted them the better for their work, and all around them was beautiful as they moved onward with song and jest, joyful in the hope of soon reaching their homes again. They did not know the fate that awaited them in those dark Ohio woodlands. The boats made their way upward to a point in the river near where the city of Cincinnati was to be founded a few years later. As they passed this locality, they saw a small party of Indians in a canoe crossing the river not far ahead of them. These were the first of the Ohio Indians they had seen, and the sight of them roused the frontier blood of the Hardy boatmen. Too many cabins on the border had been burned, and their inmates mercilessly slain for a frontiersman to see an Indian without a burning inclination to kill them. The Colonel was in the same spirit with his men, and the boats were at once turned towards shore in pursuit of the savages. At the point they had reached, the licking river empties into the Ohio. Rowing into its mouth the men landed, and led by the Colonel climbed up the bank to look for the foe. They found far more than they had counted on. The canoe load of savages was but a decoy to lure them ashore, and as they ascended the river bank a hot fire was opened on them by a large body of Indians hidden in the undergrowth. A trap had been laid for them, and they had fallen into it. The sudden and deadly volley threw the party into confusion, though after a minute they returned the fire and rushed upon the ambushed foe, Colonel Rogers at their head. Following him with cheers and yells the men were soon engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand conflict, the sound of blows, shots, and war cries filling the air, as the whites and red men fought obstinately for victory. But the Indians far outnumbered their opponents, and when at length the brave Rogers was seen to stagger and fall, all hope left his followers. It was impossible to regain the boats which they had imprudently left, and they broke and fled into the forest pursued by their savage foes. Many days later, the survivors of the bloody contest, thirteen and all, came straggling wearily into a white settlement on the Kanawa River in Virginia. Of the remainder of their party and their gallant leader, nothing was ever heard again. One of the men reported that he had stayed with the wounded Colonel during the night after the battle, where he remained in the woods in extreme pain and utterly past recovery. In the morning he was obliged to leave him to save his own life, and that was the last known on earth of Colonel Rogers. As for the ammunition for which he had been sent, and which he had been decoyed by an Indian trick into abandoning, it fell into the hands of the savages and was probably used, in the later war, in the service of those against whom it was intended to be employed, such as the fortune of war. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 On the evening of the 4th of July 1778, a merry dance was taking place at the small settlement of Kaskaskia, in that far western region afterward known as Illinois. It must not be imagined that this was a celebration of the American Independence Day, for the people of Kaskaskia knew little and cared less about American independence. It was only by chance that this day was chosen for the dance, but it had its significance for all that, for the first step was to be taken there that day in adding the great northwest to the United States. The man, by whom this was to be done, was a brave Kentuckian named George Rogers Clark. He came of a daring family, for he was a brother of Captain William Clark, who years afterward was engaged with Captain Lewis in the famous Lewis and Clark expedition across the vast unknown wilderness between the Mississippi River and the Pacific Ocean. Kaskaskia was one of the settlements made by the French between the Great Lakes and the Mississippi. After the loss of Canada this country passed to England and there were English garrisons placed in some of the forts. But Kaskaskia was thought so far away and so safe that it was left in charge of a French officer and French soldiers.  And as they found time hang heavy on their hands at that frontier stronghold, they had invited the people of the place on this evening in question to a ball at the fort. All this is by way of introduction. Now let us see what took place at the fort on that pleasant summer night. All the girls of the village were there and many of the men, and most of the soldiers were on the floor as well. They were dancing away at a jovial rate to the lively music of a fiddle played by a man who sat on a chair at the side. Near him on the floor lay an Indian looking on with lazy eyes at the dancers. The room was lighted by torches thrust into the cracks of the wall, and the whole party were in the best of spirits. The Indian was not the only looker on. In the midst of the fun a tall young man stepped into the room and stood leaning against the side of the door with his eyes fixed on the dancers. He was dressed in the garb of the backwoods, but it was easy to be seen that he was not a Frenchman, if any of the gay throng had taken the trouble to look at him. All at once there was a startling interruption. The Indian sprang to his feet and his shrill war whoop rang loudly through the room. His keen eyes had rested on the stranger and seen at a glance that there was something wrong. The newcomer was evidently an American, and that meant something there. His yell of alarm broke up the dance in an instant. The women who had just been laughing and talking screamed with fright. All, men and women alike, huddled together in alarm. Some of the men ran for their guns, but the stranger did not move. From his place by the door he simply said in a quiet way, Don't be scared, go on with your dance. But remember that you are dancing under Virginia and not under England. As he was speaking a crowd of men dressed like himself slipped into the room. They were all armed, and in a minute they spread through the fort, laying hands on the guns of the soldiers. The fort had been taken without a blow or a shot. Rocheblav, the French commandant, was in bed while these events were taking place, not dreaming that an American was within five hundred miles. He learned better when the newcomers took him prisoner and began to search for his papers. The reason they did not find many of these was on account of their American respect for ladies. The papers were in Madame Rocheblav's room, which the Americans were too polite to enter, not knowing that she was shoving them as fast as she could into the fire, so that there was soon only a heap of ashes. A few were found outside, enough to show what the Americans wanted to make sure of, that the English were doing their best to stir up the Indians against the settlers. To end this part of our story, we may say that the Americans got possession of Kaskaskia and its fort, and Rocheblav was sent off with his papers to Virginia. Probably his wide awake wife went with him. Now let us go back a bit and see how all this came to pass. Colonel Clark was a native of Virginia, but he had gone to Kentucky in his early Emanhood, being very fond of life in the woods. Here he became a friend of Daniel Boone, and no doubt often joined him in hunting excursions. But his business was that of a surveyor, at which he found plenty to do in this new country. Meanwhile, the war for independence came on, and as it proceeded, Clark saw plainly that the English at the forts in the west were stirring up the Indians to attack the American settlements and kill the settlers. It is believed that they paid them for this dreadful work and supplied them with arms and ammunition. All this Clark was sure of, and he determined to try and stop it. So he made his way back to the east and had a talk with Patrick Henry, who was then Governor of Virginia. He asked the Governor to let him have a force to attack the English forts in the west. He thought he could capture them, and in this way put an end to the Indian raids. Patrick Henry was highly pleased with Clark's plan. He gave him orders to proceed to the defense of Kentucky, which was done to keep his real purpose a secret. He was also supplied with a large sum of money, and told to enlist four companies of men, of whom he was to be the colonel. These he recruited among the hunters and pioneers of the frontier, who were the kind of men he wanted, and in the spring of 1778 he set out on his daring expedition. With a force of about one hundred and fifty men, Colonel Clark floated down the Ohio River in boats, landing at length about fifty miles above the river's mouth, and setting off through the woods towards Cascaskia. It was a difficult journey, and they had many hardships. Their food ran out on the way, and they had to live on roots to keep from starvation. But at length one night, they came near enough to hear the fiddle and the dancing. How they stopped to dance, you have read. Thus ends the first part of our story. It was easy enough to end, as has been seen. But there was a second part which was not so easy. You must know that the British had other strongholds in that country. One of them was Detroit on the Detroit River, near Lake Erie. This was their starting point. Far to the south on the Wabash River, in what is now the state of Indiana, was another fort called Vincennes, which lay about one hundred fifty miles to the east of Fort Cascaskia. This was an old French fort also, and it was held by the French for the British as Cascaskia had been. Colonel Clark wanted this fort too, and got it without much trouble. He had not men enough to take it by force, so he sent a French priest there who told the people that their best friends were the Americans, not the British. It was not hard to make them believe this, for the French people had never liked the British. So they hauled down the British ensign, and hauled up the stars and stripes, and Vincennes became an American fort. After that, Colonel Clark went back to Kentucky, proud to think that he had won the great Northwest Territory for the United States with so little trouble. But he might have known that the British would not let themselves be driven out of the country in this easy manner, and before the winter was over he heard news that was not much to his liking. Colonel Hamilton, the English commander at Detroit, had marched down to Vincennes and taken the fort back again. It was also said that he intended to capture Cascaskia, and then marched south and try and win Kentucky for the English. This Hamilton was the man who was said to have hired the Indians to murder the American settlers, and Clark was much disturbed by the news. He must be quick to act, or all that he had won would be lost. He had a terrible task before him. The winter was near its end, and the Wabash had risen, and overflowed its banks on all sides. For hundreds of square miles the country was under water, and Vincennes was in the center of a great shallow lake. It was freezing water, too, for this was no longer the warm springtime as it had been in the march to Cascaskia, but dull and drear February. Yet the brave Colonel knew that he must act quickly if he was to act at all. Hamilton had only eighty men he could raise twice that many. He had no money to pay them, but a merchant in St. Louis offered to lend him all he needed. There was the water to cross, but the hardy Kentucky hunters were used to wet and cold, so Colonel Clark hastily collected his men and set out for Vincennes. A sturdy set of men they were who followed him, dressed in hunting shirts and carrying their long and tried rifles. On their heads were fur caps ornamented with deer or raccoon tails. They believed in Colonel Clark, and that is a great deal in war-like affairs. As they trudged onward there came days of cold hard rain, so that every night they had to build great fires to warm themselves and dry their clothes. Thus they went on, day after day, through the woods and prairies, carrying their packs of provisions and supplies on their back, and shooting game to add to their food supply. This was a holiday work to what lay before them. After a week of this kind of travel they came to a new kind. The drowned lands of the Wabash lay before them. Everywhere, nothing but water was to be seen. The winter rains had so flooded the streams that a great part of the country was overflowed. And there was no way to reach the fort, except by crossing those waters, for they spread round it on all sides. They must plunge in and wade through or give up and go back. We may be sure that there were faint hearts among them when they felt the cold water, and knew that they were miles of it to cross. Here ankle or knee deep, there are waist deep. But they had known this when they started, and they were not the men to turn back. At Colonel Clark's cheery word of command they plunged in and began their long and shivering journey. For nearly a week this terrible journey went on. It was a frightful experience. Now and then one of them would stumble and fall and come up dripping. All day long they tramped dismally on through that endless waste of icy water. Here and there were islands of dry land over which they were glad enough to trudge. But at night they often had trouble to find a dry spot to build their fires and cook their food and to sleep on beside the welcome blaze. It was hard enough to find game in that dreary waste and their food ran out so that for two whole days they had to go hungry. Thus they went on till they came to the point where White River runs into the Wabash. Here they found some friends who had come by a much easier way. On setting out Colonel Clark had sent Captain Rogers and forty men with two small cannon in a boat up Wabash River telling them to stop at the White River fork about fifteen or twenty miles below Vincennes. Here their trudging friends found them and from this point they resumed their marching company. It was easy enough now to transport the cannon by dragging or rowing the boat through the deep water which they had to traverse. The worst of their difficult journey lay before them. For surrounding the fort was a sheet of water four miles wide which was deeper than any they had yet gone through. They had waded to their knees and at sometimes to their waist but now they might have to wade to their necks. Some of them thrust their hands into the water and shivered at the touch saying that it was freezing cold. There were men among them who held back exclaiming that it was folly to think of crossing that icy lake. We have not come so far to turn back now said Colonel Clark sternly. Yonder lies the fort and a few hours will take us there. Follow me. And he walked boldly into the flood. As he did so he told one of his officers to shoot the first man who refused to follow. That settled the matter they all plunged in. It was the most frightful part of their journey. The water at places as we have said came at times almost to their necks much of it reached their waist. They struggled resolutely on almost been numbed with cold now stumbling and catching themselves again holding their guns and powder above their heads to keep them from becoming wet and glad enough when they found the water growing shallower. At length dry land was reached once more and none too soon for some of the men were so faint and weak that they fell flat on the ground. Colonel Clark set two of his men to pick up these worn out ones and run them up and down till they were warm again. In this way they were soon made all right. It was now the evening of the 18th of February 1779. They were near enough to the fort to hear the boom of the evening gun. This satisfied the Colonel that they were at the end of their journey and he bade his men to lie down and sleep and get ready for the work before them. There was no more waiting to do but there was likely to be some fighting. Bright and early the next morning they were up and had got their arms and equipment in order. They were on the wrong side of the river but a large boat was found in which they crossed. Vincent was now near at hand and one of its people soon appeared, a Frenchman, who looked at them with as much astonishment as if they had dropped down from the sky. Colonel Clark questioned him about matters in the fort and then gave him a letter to Colonel Hamilton telling the Colonel that they had come across the water to take back the fort and that he had better surrender and save trouble. We may be sure that the English Colonel was astounded on receiving such a letter at such a time, that any men on earth could have crossed those wintery waters he could hardly believe and it seemed to him that they must have come on wings. But there they were asking him to give up the fort a thing he had no intention of doing without a fight. If Colonel Clark wanted the fort he must come and Colonel Clark did want it. He wanted it badly and it was not long before the two cannon which he had brought with him were loaded and pouring their shot into the fort, while the riflemen kept them company with their guns. Colonel Hamilton fired back with grape shot and cannonballs and for hour after hour the siege went on, the roar of cannon echoing back from woodland and water. For fourteen hours the cannonade was kept up, all day long and far into the night, the red flashes from cannon and rifle lighting up all around. At length both sides were worn out and they lay down to sleep, expecting to begin again with the morning light. But that day's work and the sure shooting of the Kentucky Riflemen had made such havoc in the fort as to teach Colonel Hamilton that the bold Kentuckians were too much for him. So when at day dawn another messenger came with a summons to surrender he accepted as gracefully as he could. He asks to be given the honors of war and to be allowed to march back to Detroit, but Colonel Clark wrathfully answered, to that I can by no means agree, I will not again leave it in your power to spirit up the Indian nation to scalp men, women and children. Soon into the fort marched the victors with shouts of triumph, their long rifles slanting over their shoulders, and soon the red cross flag of England came down and the Star-Spangled Banner of America waved in its place. Hamilton and his men were prisoners in American hands. There was proof enough that this English Colonel had been busy in stirring the Indians up to their dreadful work. His papers showed that. And even while the fight was going on some of the red demons came up with the scalps of white men and women to receive their pay. The pay they got was in bullets when they fell into the hands of the incensed Kentuckians. Colonel Hamilton and his officers were sent as prisoners to Williamsburg, Virginia, and were there put in fetters for their murderous conduct. It would have served them right to hang them, but the laws of war for bad, and they were soon set free. We have told this story that you may see what brave men Virginia and Kentucky bred in the old times. In all American history there is no exploit to surpass that of Colonel Clark and his men, and it led to something of the greatest importance to the Republic of the United States, as you shall hear. It was not long after that time that the war ended and the freedom of the colonies was gained. When the Treaty of Peace was made the question arose what territory should belong to the New Republic and what should still be held by England. It was finally decided that the land which each country held at the end of the war should be held still. In that way England held Canada, and it would have held the great country north of the Ohio too if it had not been for George Rogers Clark. His capture of Cuskaskia and his splendid two weeks march through the drowned lands of the Wabash had won that country for the United States, and when the treaty was signed all this fine country became part of the territory of the United States. So it is to George Rogers Clark, the Virginian and Kentuckian, that this country owes the region which in time was divided up into the great states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan, and perhaps Kentucky also, since only for him the British might have taken the new settled land of Daniel Boone. End of Chapter 16