Washington rallied all the Americans within his reach, and each man, posting himself behind a tree, fired not a bullet without taking deliberate aim. The English huddled together, and senselessly, in their frenzy, firing at random, presented a fair target to the Indian marksmen, and fell as fast as the savages could load and fire. As the Indians rushed from their covert, with tomahawk and scalping-knife to seize their bloody trophy of scalps, from the dead and the wounded, who were struggling upon the ground, the Americans, with their rapid and deadly fire checked them, and drove them back. But for this the army would have been utterly destroyed. The English regulars were helpless. “They ran,” wrote Washington, “like sheep before the hounds.” The rout was complete. Braddock, bleeding, exhausted, and experiencing the intensest mental anguish, begged to be left upon the field to die. Everything was abandoned. The wagoners and artillery-men, cutting the traces, mounted the horses and fled. Fortunately, the savages were too much engaged in plunder to pursue. The carnage had been awful. Out of eighty-six officers, twenty-six were killed and thirty-six wounded. Over seven hundred of the rank and file fell. The tomahawk of the savage soon numbered the wounded with the slain. Braddock was hurried from the field in a litter, and his wounds dressed about a mile from the scene of carnage. He could not mount a horse, and had to be carried. A woe-stricken band of eighty soldiers formed his escort. For four days he lingered in great pain, and then died. Once he was heard to exclaim: “Who would have thought it.” It is also said that he apologized to Washington for the manner in which he had rejected his advice. His remains were buried in the road, and all indications of his grave concealed, lest the Indians might discover the spot. In the gloom of night the melancholy funeral ceremonies were performed. Washington read the burial service. It is probable that not even a volley was fired over his grave. Seldom has there been recorded a more sad close of an ambitious life. The army of Braddock was annihilated. The French, conscious that it could do no further harm, left the starving, staggering, bleeding remains to struggle back to Virginia. They returned to Fort Duquesne, to rejoice over the victory, and to strengthen their works, in preparation for another assault, should the attempt be renewed. There was, at that time, an English officer, Colonel James Smith, a captive at the fort. He has given a minute and exceedingly interesting account of the scenes which had transpired, and which continued to be enacted there. His narrative throws much light upon the character of the conflict, and upon the woes with which man’s inhumanity can crush his brother man.