lay along the edge of the cliff and I saw the Major turn and wave his rifle at us, evidently with the desire of assuring us that he was safe.  Suddenly, on the very summit of the hill, he reined in his horse as if undecided.  I knew in an instant what had happened.  The Major had run right into the returning party of Indians, which had been sent out to intercept our reinforcements.  In a moment more we heard the exultant yells of the savages, and saw them gliding from tree to tree, slowly lengthening out their line and surrounding the unfortunate Major.  They did not fire a shot.  We in the fort were stupefied with horror, and stood helplessly with our useless guns, watching and waiting for the seemingly inevitable doom of our comrade.  Not so with the Major!  Knowing that he was a marked man by the Indians and feeling that any death was preferable to the gauntlet, the knife, the stake and torch of the merciless savage, he had grasped at a desperate chance.  He saw his enemies stealthily darting from rock to tree, and tree to bush, creeping through the brush, and slipping closer and closer every moment.  On three sides were his hated foes and on the remaining side—­the abyss.  Without a moment’s hesitation the intrepid Major spurred his horse at the precipice.  Never shall I forget that thrilling moment.  The three hundred savages were silent as they realized the Major’s intention.  Those in the fort watched with staring eyes.  A few bounds and the noble steed reared high on his hind legs.  Outlined by the clear blue sky the magnificent animal stood for one brief instant, his black mane flying in the wind, his head thrown up and his front hoofs pawing the air like Marcus Curtius’ mailed steed of old, and then down with a crash, a cloud of dust, and the crackling of pine limbs.  A long yell went up from the Indians below, while those above ran to the edge of the cliff.  With cries of wonder and baffled vengeance they gesticulated toward the dark ravine into which horse and rider had plunged rather than wait to meet a more cruel death.  The precipice at this point is over three hundred feet in height, and in places is almost perpendicular.  We believed the Major to be lying crushed and mangled on the rocks.  Imagine our frenzy of joy when we saw the daring soldier and his horse dash out of the bushes that skirt the base of the cliff, cross the creek, and come galloping to the fort in safety.”

“It was wonderful!  Wonderful!” exclaimed Isaac, his eyes glistening.  “No wonder the Indians call you the ‘Flying Chief.’”

“Had the Major not jumped into the clump of pine trees which grow thickly some thirty feet below the summit he would not now be alive,” said Colonel Zane.  “I am certain of that.  Nevertheless that does not detract from the courage of his deed.  He had no time to pick out the best place to jump.  He simply took his one chance, and came out all right.  That leap will live in the minds of men as long as yonder bluff stands a monument to McColloch’s ride for life.”