ted for a time; for we were much exhausted by our efforts, and
were about to march back, when a messenger arrived, who gave us orders
to go to Fort Anne at Wood Creek, and cut off a party of French and
Indians who were near Fort Edward.

We had about five hundred men, eighty of whom were Rangers. The rest was
made up of some of Gage's light infantry and Connecticut troops, under
Major Israel Putnam.

On the 7th of August we reached the spot where old Fort Anne had stood,
and camped there.

The forest for a mile around the old fort had been cut down and burned
years before. But the fort had rotted away, and the clearings had become
overgrown with bushes, with here and there an open space.

Early the next morning we began our march. Putnam and his men were in
front, the light infantry in the centre, and the Rangers in the rear.

Rogers had been shooting at a mark that morning with Lieutenant Irwin of
the regulars. The enemy had overheard the firing and ambuscaded us.

Putnam was leading his men. As he left the clearing, and entered the
forest, the yelling and firing began. Several Indians rushed at him. His
gun missed fire, and he with three or four men was captured by the
Indians.

[Sidenote: BEN WRESTLES WITH AN INDIAN]

The redskins forced the Connecticut men back, the light infantry held
their ground, and we of the Rangers struggled through the bushes as best
we could, to get to the front.

Every one fought for himself. I had fired my gun just as I reached an
open space, and seeing a number of men on the other side, I started to
run across to them.

Of course I should have reloaded before I attempted this; but one does
not always do the right thing, especially in a hot fight. I had gone but
a short distance when an Indian fired at me from the bushes, and then
ran at me with a tomahawk.

I turned, parried the blow with my gun, and the tomahawk was struck from
his hand.

We grappled each other. He was a fine, large man, decked out with
feathers and warpaint, and was the strongest and most active man I ever
got hold of. He seemed to be made of steel springs. As I struggled with
him, I couldn't help thinking, "What a splendid wrestler you would make
if you only knew the tricks!" I gave him Jonas Parker's best throw, and
we came down together, and I on top.

The fall knocked the wind out of him and partly stunned him. I got hold
of my hatchet and brained him. I had not noticed or thought of anything
but hi