Explore "With George Washington into the Wilderness" by Edwin L. Sabin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It seemed to Robert, while he lay panting and kicking and trying to wake, that a battle had been raging over him. He knew that he was wet with cold water, and that fingers were busy upon his head; and at last he looked into a face black-whiskered, black-eyed, a face very dark and stern, but ready to smile: the face, yes, of the Black Rifle!
Robert struggled to sit up in a jiffy. The Black Rifle was a fearsome man――an Indian-killer. And around-about there were other white-men, in buckskin and long hair, powder flasks and bullet pouches, hatchets and knives――several of them with fresh scalps at their belts.