“The troops behaved most gallantly.  They were but a handful, but they seemed resolved to sell their lives as dearly as possible.  Our horses pranced and bounded, and could hardly be restrained as the balls whistled among them.  I drew off a little, and gazed upon my husband and father, who were yet unharmed.  I felt that my hour was come, and endeavored to forget those I loved, and prepare myself for my approaching fate.

“While I was thus engaged, the surgeon, Dr. Van Voorhees, came up.  He was badly wounded.  His horse had been shot under him, and he had received a ball in his leg.  Every muscle of his face was quivering with the agony of terror.  He said to me, ’Do you think they will take our lives?  I am badly wounded, but I think not mortally.  Perhaps we might purchase our lives by promising them a large reward.  Do you think there is any chance?’

“‘Dr. Van Voorhees,’ said I, ’do not let us waste the few moments that yet remain to us in such vain hopes.  Our fate is inevitable.  In a few moments we must appear before the bar of God.  Let us make what preparation is yet in our power.’

“‘Oh, I cannot die!’ exclaimed he, ’I am not fit to die—­if I had but a short time to prepare—­death is awful!’

“I pointed to Ensign Ronan, who, though mortally wounded and nearly down, was still fighting with desperation on one knee.[35]

“‘Look at that man!’ said I.  ‘At least he dies like a soldier.’

“‘Yes,’ replied the unfortunate man, with a convulsive gasp, ’but he has no terrors of the future—­he is an unbeliever!’

“At this moment a young Indian raised his tomahawk at me.  By springing aside, I partially avoided the blow, which was intended for my skull, but which alighted on my shoulder.  I seized him around the neck, and while exerting my utmost efforts to get possession of his scalping-knife, which hung in a scabbard over his breast, I was dragged from his grasp by another and older Indian.

“The latter bore me struggling and resisting towards the lake.  Notwithstanding the rapidity with which I was harried along, I recognized, as I passed them, the lifeless remains of the unfortunate surgeon.  Some murderous tomahawk had stretched him upon the very spot where I had last seen him.

“I was immediately plunged into the water and held there with a forcible hand, notwithstanding my resistance.  I soon perceived, however, that the object of my captor was not to drown me, for he held me firmly in such a position as to place my head above water.  This reassured me, and, regarding him attentively, I soon recognized, in spite of the paint with which he was disguised, The Black Partridge.

“When the firing had nearly subsided, my preserver bore me from the water and conducted me up the sand-banks.  It was a burning August morning, and walking through the sand in my drenched condition was inexpressibly painful and fatiguing.  I stooped and took off my shoes to free them from the sand with which they were nearly filled, when a squaw seized and carried them off, and I was obliged to proceed without them.