"You're nervous, Morris. It can't be more than a large scouting-party, or they'd have chased you in."

"They came over on seventy-eight rafts!" I replied, turning to race after Colonel Charles Lewis' column.

The Augusta men were now swinging in close to Crooked Creek where it skirts the foot of the low hills. As I drew abreast of the head of the column we were fired upon by a large force of Indians, now snugly ensconced behind trees and fallen timber along the creek. We were then not more than a quarter of a mile from camp. The first fire was tremendously heavy and was quickly followed by a second and third volley. The Augusta men reeled, but quickly began returning the fire, the behavior of the men being all that a commander could desire. They were forced to give ground, however, as the odds were heavy.

On our left crashed a volley as the Botetourt men were fired on. Colonel Lewis ordered his men to take cover, then turned to Captain Benjamin Harrison and cried:

"This is no scouting-party! But my brother will soon be sending reinforcements."

He had hardly spoken before he spun half-way around, a surprised expression on his face.

"I'm wounded," he quietly said.

Then handing his rifle to a soldier, he called out to his men:

"Go on and be brave!"

With that he began walking to the camp. I ran to help him, but he motioned me back, saying:

"Your place is there. I'm all right."

So I left him, a very brave soldier and a Christian gentleman, to make his way alone while his very minutes were numbered.

Half a dozen of our men were down and the rest were slowly giving ground.

Up to the time Colonel Lewis left us I had seen very few Indians, and only mere glimpses at that. Now they began showing themselves as they crowded forward through the timber, confident they were to slaughter us. Above the noise of the guns, the yells and shouts of red and white combatants, rose a deep booming voice, that of Cornstalk, and he was shouting:

"Be strong! Be strong! Push them into the river!"

We dragged back our dead and wounded as with a reckless rush the Indians advanced over logs and rocks up to the very muzzles of our guns. But although the Augusta line gave ground the men were not suffering from panic, and the smashing volley poured into the enemy did great damage and checked their mad onslaught.

Never before did red men make such a determined charge. In an instant there were a score of individual combats, backwoodsman and savage being clinched in a death-struggle with ax and knife. Now our line stiffened, and the very shock of their attack seemed to hurl the Indians back. Still we would have been forced back to the camp and must have suffered cruel losses if not for the timely reinforcements brought up on the run by Colonel John Field, veteran of Braddock's and Pontiac's Wars.

He led Augusta and Botetourt men, for it was no longer possible to keep the two lines under their respective commanders, nor did any captain for the rest of the day command his own company as a unit. With the coming up of Colonel Field the Indians immediately gave ground, then charged most viciously as our men pursued. This maneuver was one of Cornstalk's cunning tactics, the alternate advance and retreat somewhat confusing our men.

The second attack was repulsed and the riflemen slowly gained more ground.

The firing on our left was now very heavy and Colonel Field directed me to learn how the fight there was progressing. Some of our fellows were screaming that Fleming's column was being driven in, and our colonel had no intention of being cut off.

As I started toward the river I could hear Cornstalk exhorting: "Shoot straight! Lie close! Fight and be strong!"

As I withdrew from the right column I had a chance to get a better idea of the battle. The Indians lined the base of the hills bordered by Crooked Creek, and were posted on all the heights to shoot any whites trying to swim either the Ohio or the Kanawha. On the opposite side of the Ohio and, as I later learned on the south bank of the Kanawha, red forces had been stationed in antic.i.p.ation of our army being routed.

As I neared the Botetourt men I could hear between volleys the Indians shouting in unison:

"Drive the white dogs over!" meaning across the river.

The Botetourt men were well posted and considerably in advance of the right column, as they had given but little ground while the right was retiring after Lewis was shot. At no time did either column fight at a range of more than twenty yards, and when I crawled among Fleming's men the range was not more than six yards, while here and there in the deeper growth were hand-to-hand struggles.

"A big chunk of a fight!" screamed a shrill voice, and Cousin was beside me, wearing a brilliant scarlet jacket. As he was crawling by me I caught him by the heel and dragged him back.

"You fool! Take that coat off!" I yelled. For the vivid splotch of color made him a tempting target for every Indian gun. And the Shawnees were skilful marksmen even if less rapid than the whites because of their inability to clean their fouled weapons.

Cousin drew up his leg to kick free, then smiled sweetly and said:

"It's my big day, Morris. Don't go for to meddle with my medicine.

Everything's all right at last. I've found the long trace that leads to my little sister. She's waitin' to put her hand in mine, as she used to do on Keeney's k.n.o.b."

With that he suddenly jerked his leg free and sprang to his feet and streaked toward the savages, his blood-curdling panther-screech penetrating the heavier vibrations of the battle.

He was lost to view in the brush and I had my work to do. I kept along the edge of the timber, and answered many anxious queries as to the fate of the right column. I rea.s.sured them, but did not deem it wise to tell of Colonel Lewis' wound. I found the column quite close to the river and by the stubborn resistance it was meeting I knew the Indians were strongly posted.

"Why don't you whistle now?" they kept howling in concert, and referring to our fifes which were still.

"We'll kill you all, and then go and speak to your big chief (Dunmore),"

was one of their promises.

And there were other things shouted, foul epithets, which I am ashamed to admit could only have been learned from the whites. And repeatedly did they encourage one another and seek to intimidate us by yelling:

"Drive the white dogs over the river! Drive them like cattle into the water!"

While I kept well covered and was completing my reconnaissance I was horrified to see Colonel Fleming walk into the clear ground. He fired at an Indian who had showed himself for a moment to make an insulting gesture. He got his man, and the next second was struck by three b.a.l.l.s, two pa.s.sing through his left arm and the third penetrating his left breast.

He called out to his captains by name and sharply ordered them to hold their ground while he went to the rear to be patched up. He was answered by hearty cheers, but his absence was to be keenly felt by his officers.

He started to work his way to the Point, but the exertion of bending and dodging from tree to stump sorely taxed him. I ran to his aid just as Davis, of Howard's Creek, sprang from behind a log and seized his right arm. Between us we soon had him back in camp and his shirt off. The lung tissue had been forced through the wound a finger's length. He asked me to put it back. I attempted it and failed, whereat he did it himself without any fuss.

On returning to the right column to make a belated report to Colonel Field I ran across the body of Mooney, my partner on several scouts. He had been shot through the head. It may here be said that nearly all the dead on both sides were shot through the head or chest, indicating the accuracy of marksmanship on both sides.

I found the Augusta men steadily pushing the Indians back. But when they gave ground quickly, as if in a panic, it was to tempt the foolhardy into rushing forward. The riflemen had learned their lesson, however, and maintained their alignment. The advance was through nettles and briers, up steep muddy banks and over fallen timber.

The warriors rushed repeatedly to the very muzzles of our guns, and thus displayed a brand of courage never surpa.s.sed, if ever equaled, by the North American Indian before. It was Cornstalk who was holding them to the b.l.o.o.d.y work. His voice at times sounded very close, but although we all knew his death would count a greater coup than the scalps of a hundred braves we never could get him. He was too shrewd and evasive.

Once I believed I had him, for I had located him behind a detached mound of fallen timber. He was loudly calling out for his men to be brave and to lie close, when a warrior leaped up and started to run to the rear. Then Cornstalk flashed into view long enough to sink his ax into the coward's head. It was all done so quickly that he dropped to cover unharmed.

That was one of his ways of enforcing obedience, a mode of terrorization never before practised by a war-chief to my knowledge. It was told afterward by the Shawnees that he killed more than that weak-hearted one during the long day. I saw nothing of the other chiefs who attended the conference in Cornstalk's Town while I was a prisoner. And yet they were there, chiefs of Mingos, Wyandots, Delawares and Ottawas.

"They're fallin' back! They're fallin' back!" yelled a voice in advance of our first line.

And the scream of a panther told us it was Cousin. He had worked across from the left column, and we were soon beholding his bright jacket in a tangle of logs and stumps.

The men advanced more rapidly, but did not break their line; and it was evident the savages were giving ground in earnest. Our men renewed their cheering and their l.u.s.ty shouts were answered by the column on the river-bank, still in advance of us.

As it seemed we were about to rush the enemy into a panic we received our second heavy loss of the day. Colonel Field was shot dead. He was standing behind a big tree, reserving his fire for an Indian who had been shouting filthy abuse at him. Poor colonel! It was but a ruse to hold his attention while savages up the slope and behind fallen timber drew a bead on him.

Captain Evan Shelby a.s.sumed command and ordered the men to keep up the advance.

The Indians gave ground, but with no signs of confusion. Observing our left column was in advance of the right, Cornstalk was attempting to straighten his line by pulling in his left. As we pressed on we discovered the savages were scalping their own dead to prevent their hair falling into our hands. From the rear of the red men came the sound of many tomahawks. Cousin, who for a moment found himself at my side, exulted:

"Curse 'em! Their squaws an' boys are cuttin' saplin's for to carry off their wounded! They'll need a heap o' stretchers afore this day is over!"

The sun was now noon-high and the heat was beastly. The battle was at its climax. The left column was near a little pond and about fifty yards from the river, or a fourth of a mile beyond the spot where Lewis was shot. We had evened up this lead, and the battle-line extended from the river and pond to Crooked Creek and half-way down the creek, running from west to east and then southwest.