om their ambush, shows a remarkable confidence in their numerical
strength.[275] They no doubt expected to strike their enemies with a
panic. Lovewell received another mortal wound; but he fired more than
once on the Indians as he lay dying. His two lieutenants, Farwell and
Robbins, were also badly hurt. Eight others fell; but the rest stood
their ground, and pushed the Indians so hard that they drove them back
to cover with heavy loss. One man played the coward, Benjamin Hassell,
of Dunstable, who ran off, escaped in the confusion, and made with his
best speed for the fort at Lake Ossipee.

The situation of the party was desperate, and nothing saved them from
destruction but the prompt action of their surviving officers, only one
of whom, Ensign Wyman, had escaped unhurt. It was probably under his
direction that the men fell back steadily to the shore of the pond,
which was only a few rods distant. Here the water protected their rear,
so that they could not be surrounded; and now followed one of the most
obstinate and deadly bush-fights in the annals of New England. It was
about ten o'clock when the fight began, and it lasted till night. The
Indians had the greater agility and skill in hiding and sheltering
themselves, and the whites the greater steadiness and coolness in using
their guns. They fought in the shade; for the forest was dense, and all
alike covered themselves as they best could behind trees, bushes, or
fallen trunks, where each man crouched with eyes and mind intent, firing
whenever he saw, or thought he saw, the head, limbs, or body of an enemy
exposed to sight for an instant. The Indians howled like wolves, yelled
like enraged cougars, and made the forest ring with their whoops; while
the whites replied with shouts and cheers. At one time the Indians
ceased firing and drew back among the trees and undergrowth, where, by
the noise they made, they seemed to be holding a "pow-wow," or
incantation to procure victory; but the keen and fearless Seth Wyman
crept up among the bushes, shot the chief conjurer, and broke up the
meeting. About the middle of the afternoon young Frye received a mortal
wound. Unable to fight longer, he lay in his blood, praying from time to
time for his comrades in a faint but audible voice.

Solomon Keyes, of Billerica, received two wounds, but fought on till a
third shot struck him. He then crawled up to Wyman in the heat of the
fight, and told him that he, Keyes, was a dead man, bu