"Happily, on the left, where lay the heaviest fire, Washington's rangers were posted, but not exposed like the British. For, on hearing the savage yells aforesaid, in a moment they flew each to his tree, like the Indians; and, like them, each leveled his rifle, and with as deadly aim. This, through a kind Providence, saved Braddock's army; for, exulting in their confusion, the savages, grimly painted, and yelling like furies, leaped from their coverts, eager to glut their hellish rage with a total massacre of the British. But, faithful to their friends, Washington's rangers stepped forth with joy to met the assailants. Then rose a scene sufficient to fill the stoutest heart with horror. _Here_ falls the brave Virginia blue, under the stroke of his nimbler foe; and _there_, man on man, the Indians perish beneath the furious storm of lead. But who can tell the joy of Washington, when he saw this handful of his despised countrymen thus gallantly defending their British friends, and, by dint of mortal steel, driving back their blood-thirsty assailants? Happy check! for by this time, covered with wounds, Braddock had fallen; his aids and officers, to a man, killed or wounded; and his troops, in _hopeless_, _helpless_ despair, flying backwards and forwards from the fire of the Indians, like flocks of crowded sheep from the presence of their butchers. Washington alone remained unhurt. Two horses had been killed under him. Showers of bullets had lifted his locks or pierced his regimentals. But still protected by heaven, still supported by a strength not his own, he had continued to fly from quarter to quarter, where his presence was most needed, sometimes animating his rangers, sometimes striving, but in vain, to rally the regulars. 'Twas his lot to be close to the brave but imprudent Braddock when he fell, and assisted to place him in a tumbril, or little cart. As he was laid down, pale and near spent with loss of blood, he faintly said to Washington: "Well, colonel, what's to be done now?" "Retreat, retreat by all means," answered Washington. "The regulars won't fight and the rangers are nearly all killed." "Poor fellows! poor fellows!" weakly replied the dying general. "Do as you will, colonel, the command is on you." "More than half of the army are dead and wounded," continued Washington, "and retreat is all that is left us. The surviving rangers can cover the retreat of the remnant." "Pardon me, colonel for rejecting your counsel, which I now deeply regret," the general frankly confessed. "I see it now, but it is all over." The command of the army reverted to Colonel Dunbar after the fall of Braddock; but he was several miles away, on the other side of the Monongahela, when the disaster occurred, in charge of the rear division and supplies. Hence the authority of Washington for the time being.