outnumbered them. What of that!
The night was dark. They knew their ground. Their scouts would soon
bring other tribes to help them.

Every Indian was out of sight; every gun was loaded. The tramp of feet
drew nearer. A dark mass of marching men came in sight. The quick steps
of the advanced guard rang on the wooden bridge. All else was still. The
vanguard had crossed the bridge and the main body of the English had
started over, when, in front, to right, to left, burst blood curdling
yells, blazed a fatal volley of muskets.

Back only, lay safety. Those who had not fallen in the first charge
turned and fled, followed by a rain of bullets. Panic spread along the
line. But the brave leader of the English, Captain Dalzel, sprang to the
front and rallied his men. They made a bold charge, as they thought,
into the midst of the enemy; but they found none to resist them. Every
Indian had vanished. They pressed bravely on in search of their
assailants; but the night was black and the way was rough and
unfamiliar. Whenever they reached a place of difficulty the Indians
unexpectedly renewed their attack.

The savages, whose eyes were accustomed to the darkness, saw the enemy
after a parley return to the bridge. There, half of the men mounted
guard while the others took up the dead and wounded and carried them to
two armed boats that had accompanied them down the river.

Seeing that a return to the fort was intended, the Indians turned back
in large numbers to form another ambuscade at a point where several
houses and barns stood near the road and cut the English off from the
fort.

They again allowed the vanguard to pass unmolested and surprised the
center with a galling fire. The soldiers, confused by the weird and
terrible cries of the savages and the blaze of musketry, blinded by
smoke and flash, and stung by pelting bullets, huddled together like
sheep.

Captain Dalzel, though severely wounded, by commanding, imploring,
fairly driving his men with his sword, at last succeeded in regaining
order. He made a charge and as usual the Indians fled before the attack.
As soon as the English attempted to continue their retreat the Indians
were upon them again, firing from every fence and thicket.

The gallant Dalzel was among those shot down by this fire. He died
trying to save a wounded soldier from the scalping knife of the Indians.
In the confusion he was scarcely missed. The officers next in command
took charge of the ret