off from the fort, and then sprung after them, tomahawk in hand.  Luckily, however, for our little band of heroes, the Indians had just discharged their rifles, and their own were loaded; by which means, when hard pressed, they turned and kept their foes at bay—­the savage, in all cases, being too cautious to rush upon a weapon so deadly, with only a tomahawk wherewith to defend himself.  Moreover, the corn was stout and tall, among which they ran and dodged with great agility; and whenever an Indian halted to load his rifle, the fugitive for whom its contents were designed, generally managed, by extra exertion, to gain a safe distance before it was completed, and thus effect his escape.  Some five or six, however, were so unfortunate as to be knocked or shot down, when they were immediately tomahawked and scalped; but the remainder, in various directions and by various artifices, succeeded in making their escape.  A few reached the fort in a roundabout manner; but the main body of them returned to Lexington; where, had the savages followed them, they would have found an easy conquest.  Fortunately for the whites, however, the red men were not so inclined; and pursuing them a few hundred yards only, the latter abandoned the chase as hopeless.

One of the most active and ferocious on the part of the Indians during this skirmish, which lasted nearly an hour, was Simon Girty.  Enraged to madness at the failure of his stratagem in the morning, he gnashed his teeth and rushed after the fugitives, with all the fury depicted on his countenance of a demon let loose from the infernal regions of Pluto.  Two with his own hand he sent to their last account; and was in hot pursuit of a third—­a handsome, active youth—­who, being hard pressed, turned round, and raising his rifle to his shoulder, with a scornful smile upon his face, bitterly exclaimed, as he discharged it: 

“Take that, you ——­ renegade, and see how it’ll digest!”

As he fired, Girty fell, and perceiving this, the Indians, with a yell of despair, instantly gathered round him, while the man effected his escape.  This closed the exciting contest of the cornfield—­which had been witnessed throughout from the station with feelings better imagined than described—­but, unfortunately for humanity, did not end the career of Girty; for the ball had taken effect in his shot pouch instead of his body; and though wounded, his case was in no wise critical; and he was soon able to take his place at the council fire, to deliberate upon what further should be done.[22]

The council alluded to, lasted some two or three hours.  The Indians were disheartened at their loss in the morning, and the failure of all their stratagems, even to cutting off the reinforcements of the enemy.  They were sufficiently convinced they could not carry the fort by storm; and they also believed it unsafe to longer remain where they were; as the alarm of their presence had spread far and wide, and there was