Scarcely any mistake, in a military officer, can be greater than that of despising his enemy. The French authorities, in Canada, had carefully read Washington’s report. They had made themselves intimately acquainted with all the discussions in the legislature. They had watched every movement. They had read Governor Dinwiddie’s order to “disperse, capture, or kill” them all. They were as well acquainted with the number of troops sent to attack them, and with the strength of their armament, as was the youthful Colonel Washington himself. They knew the day and the hour when the march was commenced; and, by the aid of Indian runners, kept themselves pretty accurately informed of the progress which the army made in its advance. The march, through the barren and rugged ranges of the Alleghanies, for a distance of nearly one hundred miles, was exhausting in the extreme. There was often suffering for food. Though in the rich and well-watered plains beyond, game was abundant, it was very scarce amid the bleak crags of the mountains. Experienced hunters accompanied the little band, whose duty it was to range the country for one or two miles on each side of the line of march, and bring in such game as could be shot down. Slowly and painfully the soldiers toiled along, until they had accomplished the passage of the mountains, and, emerging from the rugged defiles, had entered hunting grounds which were abundantly stocked with every variety of game. The troops had reached the valley of the Monongahela, and, buoyant with hope, were pressing forward, sanguine in the expectation of the entire success of their enterprise, when their march was arrested by the appalling tidings which we have recorded. They were within three or four days’ march of the fortress when a courier communicated the alarming intelligence which we have related. To add to their consternation, he stated, that a combined and outnumbering force of French and Indians were on the rapid march to attack them in front, while a numerous array of Indian warriors had already reached their rear to cut off their retreat. More awful tidings for a young and ambitious soldier, can scarcely be conceived. Retreat was impossible. Even without encountering any foe, his exhausted troops, destitute of food, and with the game driven from their path, would inevitably perish by the way. But to add to his consternation he was told that the veteran soldiers of France, fresh from their barracks, in greatly outnumbering force, were coming down, at the double quick, upon his front; while Indian warriors, the strength of whose bands he could not compute, were lining the path of his retreat with their ambushes.[26]