were
subsequently paid one hundred pounds by the colony of North
Carolina.

Beaten back from Fort Dobbs, sorely defeated along the Catawba,
hotly pursued by the rangers, the Cherokees continued to lurk in
the shadows of the dense forests, and at every opportunity to
fall suddenly upon way faring settlers and isolated cabins remote
from any stronghold. On March 8th William Fish, his son, and
Thompson, a companion, were riding along the "trace," in search
of provisions for a group of families fortified on the Yadkin,
when a flight of arrows hurtled from the cane-brake, and Fish and
his son fell dead. Although pierced with two arrows, one in the
hip and one clean through his body, Thompson escaped upon his
fleet horse; and after a night of ghastly suffering finally
reached the Carolina Fort at Bethabara. The good Dr. Bonn, by
skilfully extracting the barbed shafts from his body, saved
Thompson's life. The pious Moravians rejoiced over the recovery
of the brave messenger, whose sensational arrival gave them
timely warning of the close proximity of the Indians. While
feeding their cattle, settlers were shot from ambush by the
lurking foe; and on March 11th, a family barricaded within a
burning house, which they were defending with desperate courage,
were rescued in the nick of time by the militia. No episode from
Fenimore Cooper's Leatherstocking Tales surpasses in melancholy
interest Harry Hicks's heroic defense of his little fort on Bean
Island Creek. Surrounded by the Indians, Hicks and his family
took refuge within the small outer palisade around his humble
home. Fighting desperately against terrific odds, he was finally
driven from his yard into his log cabin, which he continued to
defend with dauntless courage. With every shot he tried to send a
redskin to the happy hunting-grounds; and it was only after his
powder was exhausted that he fell, fighting to the last, beneath
the deadly tomahawk. So impressed were the Indians by his bravery
that they spared the life of his wife and his little son; and
these were afterward rescued by Waddell when he marched to the
Cherokee towns in 1761.

The kindly Moravians had always entertained with generous
hospitality the roving bands of Cherokees, who accordingly held
them in much esteem and spoke of Bethabara as "the Dutch Fort,
where there are good people and much bread." But now, in these
dread days, the truth of their daily text was brought forcibly
home to the Moravians: "