burning arrows into the roofs of the houses; some of the cabins were
burnt, but an east wind was blowing at the time, and that saved the
station.

The enemy now fell back into the grass. They had found out, in some way,
that help was expected from Lexington, and they were preparing to cut it
off. In a little time, all was still. Presently sixteen horsemen,
followed by thirty-one foot-soldiers, were seen coming; these were the
men from Lexington. Thinking only of the distress of their friends, they
were hurrying along, when the Indians opened a fire upon them. The
horsemen galloped off in a cloud of dust, and reached the station in
safety. The soldiers on foot, in their effort to escape, plunged into the
cornfields on either side of the road, only to meet the enemy. A
desperate fight commenced on both sides: two soldiers were killed; the
rest--four of them having dangerous wounds--reached the pickets. The
exasperated Indians, disappointed at the escape of this party, now
wreaked their vengeance by killing all the cattle they could find.

Finding all their efforts to enter the station idle, Simon Girty now came
near enough to be heard, mounted a stump, and holding in his hand a flag
of truce, began to talk. "Surrender promptly," cried Simon; "if you
surrender promptly, no blood shall be shed; but if you will not
surrender, then know that our cannons and reinforcements are coming. We
will batter down your pickets as we did at Riddle's and Martin's; every
man of you shall be slain; two are dead already four are wounded; every
man shall die." This language was so insolent, that some of the settlers
cried out, "Shoot the rascal!" No man, however, lifted his rifle; the
flag of truce protected him. "I am under a flag of truce," cried Simon;
"do you know who it is that speaks to you?"

Upon this, a young man named Reynolds leaped up and cried out, "Know
you! know you! yes, we know you well. Know Simon Girty! yes: he is the
renegado, cowardly villain, who loves to murder women and children,
especially those of his own people. Know Simon Girty! yes: his father
must have been a panther, and his mother a wolf. I have a worthless dog
that kills lambs: instead of shooting him, I have named him Simon Girty.
You expect reinforcements and cannon, do you? Cowardly wretches like you,
that make war upon women and children, would not dare to touch them off,
if you had them. We expect reinforcements, too, and in numbers to give a
short acc