ken by surprise, could offer no resistance.

The signal was given. Caffre sprang upon his victim and bore him to the
ground. McClure shot his man dead. Davis' gun flashed in the pan. The
Indian thus narrowly escaping death immediately aimed his gun at Caffre,
who was struggling with the one he had grappled, and instantly killed
him. McClure in his turn shot the Indian. There was now one Indian and
two white men. But the Indian had the loaded rifle. McClure's was
discharged and Davis' missed fire. The Indian, springing from the grasp
of his dying antagonist, presented his rifle at Davis, who immediately
fled, hotly pursued by the Indian. McClure, stopping only to reload his
gun, followed after them. Soon he lost sight of both. Davis was never
heard of afterwards. Doubtless he was shot by the avenging Indian, who
returned to his wigwam with the white man's scalp.

McClure, after this bloody fray, being left alone in the wilderness,
commenced a return to his distant home. He had not proceeded far before
he met an Indian on horseback accompanied by a boy on foot. The warrior
dismounted, and in token of peace offered McClure his pipe. As they were
seated together upon a log, conversing, McClure said that the Indian
informed him by signs that there were other Indians in the distance who
would soon come up, and that then they should take him captive, tie his
feet beneath the horse's belly and carry him off to their village.
McClure seized his gun, shot the Indian through the heart, and plunging
into the forest, effected his escape.

About this same time Captain James Ward, with a party of half a dozen
white men, one of whom was his nephew, and a number of horses, was
floating down the Ohio River from Pittsburgh. They were in a flat boat
about forty-five feet long and eight feet wide. The gunwale of the boat
consisted of but a single pine plank. It was beautiful weather, and for
several days they were swept along by the tranquil stream, now borne by
the changing current towards the one shore, and now towards the other.
One morning when they had been swept by the stream within about one
hundred and fifty feet of the northern shore, suddenly several hundred
Indians appeared upon the bank, and uttering savage yells opened upon
them a terrible fire.

Captain Ward's nephew, pierced by a ball in the breast, fell dead in the
bottom of the boat. Every horse was struck by a bullet. Some were
instantly killed; others, severely wounded