and he was
now upon his knees, struggling against them with surprising exertion.
Mr. Peyton, at this juncture, having a double-barrelled musket in
his hand, and seeing the distress of his friend, fired at one of the
Indians, who dropped dead upon the spot. The other thinking the ensign
would now be an easy prey, advanced towards him; and Mr. Peyton, having
taken good aim at the distance of four yards, discharged his piece the
second time, but it seemed to take no effect. The savage fired in his
turn, and wounded the ensign in his shoulder; then, rushing upon him,
thrust his bayonet through his body. He repeated the blow, which Mr.
Peyton attempting to parry, received another wound in his left hand:
nevertheless, he seized the Indian's musket with the same hand, pulled
him forwards, and with his right drawing a dagger which hung by his
side, plunged it in the barbarian's side. A violent struggle ensued: but
at length Mr. Peyton was uppermost; and, with repeated strokes of his
dagger, killed his antagonist outright. Here he was seized with an
unaccountable emotion of curiosity, to know whether his shot had taken
place on the body of the Indian: he accordingly turned him up; and,
stripping off his blanket, perceived that the ball had penetrated quite
through the cavity of the breast. Having thus obtained a dear-bought
victory, he started up on one leg; and saw captain Ochterlony standing
at the distance of sixty yards, close by the enemy's breastwork,
with the French soldier attending him. Mr. Peyton then called
aloud,--"Captain Ochterlony, I am glad to see you have at last got under
protection. Beware of that villain, who is more barbarous than the
savages. God bless you, my dear captain! I see a party of Indians coming
this way, and expect to be murdered immediately." A number of those
barbarians had for some time been employed on the left, in scalping
and pillaging the dying and the dead that were left upon the field
of battle; and above thirty of them were in full march to destroy Mr.
Peyton. This gentleman knew he had no mercy to expect; for, should his
life be spared for the present, they would have afterwards insisted upon
sacrificing him to the manes of their brethren whom he had slain; and
in that case he would have been put to death by the most excruciating
tortures. Full of this idea, he snatched up his musket, and,
notwithstanding his broken leg, ran about forty yards without halting:
feeling himself now totall