The boy George Washington was magnificently strong and tall, with firm muscles and powerful body. He could run, leap, wrestle, toss the bar, and pitch quoits. He rode fiery horses and hunted foxes. He was a silent, determined lad, truth-telling, with a wonderful grip on his temper. By the time that he was sixteen he was an excellent surveyor. And he was a proud and happy boy when, one spring day, he leaped on his horse, and, with a companion, rode away into the Wilderness on a real job of surveying. Lord Fairfax, his close friend, owned a great estate of over five million acres stretching to the westward. A part of the estate was a wilderness, and lay on the other side of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It had never been surveyed. Squatters were stealing the land. So Lord Fairfax had sent sixteen-year old George Washington to survey it for him. As the boy rode over the mountains, and guided his horse down the steep trail into the beautiful Shenandoah Valley, Spring was busy all around him. Cascades and torrents of snow-water were rushing from the mountain-tops to feed the bright Shenandoah River--“The Daughter of the Stars,” the Indians called the river. The boy spent the better part of the first day riding through fine groves of sugar maples, and admiring the trees and the richness of the land. Here and there showed the little clearings, where the squatters were preparing their small farms for crops of tobacco, hemp, and corn. For some days, he surveyed along the banks of the river and in the valley, roughing it at night. And many were the adventures he had about which he has written in his diary. Sometimes he slept before the camp-fire or in a hut, at others in a tent. Once, he was nearly burnt to death when his straw bed caught fire. He roasted wild turkeys, and ate off chips for plates. He swam his horse through swollen streams, and followed the rough roads made by the squatters. But his most exciting adventure was with Indians. On the bank of the Potomac stood a little cabin. Near it was hung a huge kettle suspended over a place always ready for a fire. The cabin belonged to Cresap, a frontiersman, and so did the kettle. He kept the fireplace and everything in readiness for the passing Indians to cook their meals. The grateful Red Skins called him “Big Spoon.” Rain and floods drove Washington to the cabin. Big Spoon invited him to stay until the bad weather was past. On the third day, Washington looked out and saw a band of Indians carrying a scalp, come toward the cabin. It was a war-party returning from a raid. Big Spoon greeted them heartily, for everybody was welcome at his place. The Indians built a fire, sat down in a circle, and held a big celebration. Then they performed a war-dance, while their musicians played on drums made of pots half full of water, with deerskin stretched tightly over them. And as Washington watched their savage antics, he little dreamed how soon he himself would be fighting with Red Skins.