Historians decided that the Indians had preferred the vicinity of what was now upper Sixth Street but for Mike it was in Dooker's Hollow, a Dooker's Hollow with no houses, no tipsy coal sheds, no forty-five-degree-angle back yards, that General Braddock—shaking his fist at the invisible enemy, daring them to come out and fight like eighteenth-century Englishmen—was ingloriously shot, while George Washington leaped acrobatically from one horse to another.
