“I tell you, Mr. Washington, I have seen a little of the Indian fighting, and you give a few of those red devils firelocks, with a handful of French to direct them, and there is not a general in England who would know how to fight them. And the worst of it is that the English despise the Indians, and you could not make an Englishman believe that he could not lick two Frenchmen until he has been licked. An English general would want roads and bridges and an artillery-train and a dozen other things that these savages never heard of, while all they want is a firelock and a tree, and they can pick off their man every time.” “Then do you think the English will not be able to hold this part of the country?” asked George. “With the militia--yes, sir. Your provincial troops know how to fight Indians, and can get through a wilderness without making a highway like a Roman road. But, mark my words, Mr. Washington, many a brave fellow has got to lay down his life before the English learn how to fight in the woods.” These prophetic words came back vividly to George before many years had passed. The summer came on apace. Never had George seen anything more beautiful than the outburst of tree and leaf and flower among these lonely peaks. The out-door life agreed with him perfectly, as it did with William Fairfax. They worked hard all the week, always leaving camp before sunrise, and generally not returning until after sunset. Lance always had a good fire and a capital supper waiting for them. He fashioned rude but comfortable seats and tables out of logs, and his impromptu out-door kitchen was a model of neatness and order. He was an accomplished laundress, but, after instructing Billy in the art of washing and drying clothes, turned that branch of their housekeeping over to this young person, who worked steadily, if unwillingly. On rainy days the boys remained in their tent, with two large tarpaulins thrown over it to keep out the water. George then wrote in his journal and read one of his precious books, William reading the other. On Sundays they took turns in the morning, after the work of the camp was over, in reading the service of the Church of England to a congregation composed of Lance, Billy, and Rattler--the two latter generally going to sleep in the first five minutes.