"I never knew men to vanish so swiftly before," he said, "but last
night was good proof that they were here, and that they came in
time. I suppose it's about the only victory of which we can make
boast."

He spoke the full truth. From the St. Lawrence to the Ohio the border
was already ravaged with fire and sword. Appeals for help were pouring
in from the distant settlements, and the governors of New York,
Pennsylvania and Massachusetts scarcely knew what to do. France had
struck the first blow, and she had struck hard. Young Washington,
defeated by overwhelming numbers, was going back to Virginia, and
Duquesne, the fort of the French at the junction of the Monongahela
and Allegheny, was a powerful rallying place for their own forces and
the swarming Indian bands, pouring out of the wilderness, drawn by the
tales of unlimited scalps and plunder.

The task before Captain Colden's slender force was full of danger. His
numbers might have been five times as great and then they would not
have been too many to build and hold the fort he was sent to build and
hold. But he had no thought of turning back, and, as soon as
Daganoweda and the Mohawks were gone, they started, bending their
course somewhat farther toward the south. At the ford of a river
twenty men with horses carrying food, ammunition and other supplies
were to meet them, and they reckoned that they could reach it by
midnight.

The men with the horses had been sent from another point, and it was
not thought then that there was any danger of French and Indian attack
before the junction was made, but the colonial authorities had
reckoned without the vigor and daring of St. Luc. Now the most cruel