but Ensign Whiting brought
him down.

"We will go back to our packs," said Lovewell; but when they reached the
place they found that the Indians had seized them, and that their
retreat was cut off by more than one hundred Pigwackets. The terrible
war-whoop rang through the forest, and the fight began, Indians and
white men alike sheltering themselves behind the trees and rocks,
watching an opportunity to pick each other off without exposing
themselves. All day long the contest went on, the Indians howling like
tigers. The white men saw that they were outnumbered three to one. It
must be victory or death.

Lieutenant Wyman was their commander in place of Lovewell, who was
mortally wounded. He was cool and brave.

[Illustration: "LIEUTENANT WYMAN, CREEPING UP, PUT A BULLET THROUGH
HIM."]

"Don't expose yourselves. Be careful of your ammunition." So cool and
deliberate was the aim of the white men that at nearly every shot an
Indian fell. They suffered so severely that they withdrew and held a
powwow with their "medicine man," who was going through his
incantations, when Lieutenant Wyman, creeping up, put a bullet through
him. The Indians, howling vengeance, returned to the fight; but the
white men, protected on one side by the pond, held their ground.

All through the afternoon the struggle went on.

"We will give you good quarter," shouted Paugus.

"We want no quarter, except at the muzzle of our guns," shouted Wyman.

Paugus had often been to Dunstable, and was well acquainted with John
Chamberlain. They fired at each other many times, till at last
Chamberlain sent a bullet through Paugus's head, killing him instantly.

"I am a dead man," said Solomon Keys. "I am wounded in three places." He
crawled down to the shore of the pond, found an Indian canoe, and crept
into it. The wind blew it out into the lake, and he was wafted to the
southern shore. The sun went down, and the Indians stole away. Pitiable
the condition of the settlers. Lovewell was dead, and also their beloved
chaplain, Jonathan Frye, who with his dying breath prayed aloud for
victory; Jacob Farrar was dying; Lieutenant Rollins and Robert Usher
could not last long; eleven others were badly wounded. There were only
eighteen left. The Indians had seized their packs; they had nothing to
eat; it was twenty miles from the little fort which they had built at
Ossipee; but they were victors. They had killed sixty or more Indians,
and had inflicted a def