"Why don't you speak?
What is it that your eyes are telling me ?" "They don't tell of any victory," replied Robert slowly.
"Then what do they tell ?" "I'm sorry, Colden, that I have to be the bearer of such news.

I would have told it to you privately, but all will have to know it anyhow, and know it soon.

There has been a great battle, but we did not win it." "You mean we had to fall back, or that we failed to advance?
But our army will fight again soon, and then it will crush the French and Indian bands!" "General Braddock's army exists no longer." "What?
It's some evil jest.

Say it's not true, Lennox!" "It's an evil jest, but it's not mine, Colden.

It's the jest of fate.
General Braddock walked into a trap--it's twice I've told the terrible tale, once to Black Rifle and now to you--and he and his army were destroyed, all but a fragment of it that is now fleeing from the woods." The full horror of that dreadful scene in the forest returned to him for a moment, and, despite himself, he made tone and manner dramatic.