A reconnoitring party had been sent out under Captain Mason.  These were ambushed by the cunning leader of the Indians, and more than half of them fell victims to the rifle and the tomahawk.  Their perilous position being perceived, a party of twelve more, under Captain Ogle, sallied to their rescue.  They found themselves overwhelmingly outnumbered, and eight of the twelve fell.  These untowards events frightfully reduced the garrison.  Of the original forty only twelve remained, some of them little more than boys.  Within the fort were this little garrison and the women and children of the settlement.  Outside raged four hundred savage warriors, under a skilful commander.  It seemed absolute madness to attempt a defence.  Yet Colonel Sheppard was not one of the men who lightly surrender.  Death by the rifle was, in his view, better than death at the stake.  With him were two men, Ebenezer and Silas Zane, of his own calibre, while the whole garrison was made up of hearts of oak.

As for the women in the fort, though they were of little use in the fight, they could lend their aid in casting bullets, making cartridges, and loading rifles.  Among them was one, Elizabeth Zane, sister of the two men named, who was to perform a far more important service.  She had just returned from school in Philadelphia, knew little of the horrors of border warfare, but had in her the same indomitable spirit that distinguished her brothers.  A woman she was of heroic mould, as the events will prove.

It was in the early morning of September 26 that Girty appeared before the fort.  A brief period sufficed, in the manner related, to reduce the garrison to a mere handful.  Sure now of success, Girty advanced towards the palisades with a white flag, and demanded an unconditional surrender.

Colonel Sheppard was ready with his answer.  He had already felt the pulse of his men, and found that it beat with the same high spirit as his own.  He mounted upon the ramparts, stern and inflexible, and hurled back his reply,—­

“This fort shall never be surrendered to you, nor to any other man, while there is an American left to defend it.”

“Are you mad, man?” cried Girty.  “Do you know our force?  Do you know your own?  Resistance is folly.”

“I know you, Simon Girty.  That is enough to know.  You have my answer.”

In a rage, Girty hurled back a volley of dark threats, then turned away, and ordered an instant attack.  Unluckily for the garrison, some of the deserted log-huts were sufficiently near to shelter the Indians, and enable them to assault the fort under cover.  They swarmed into these houses, and for six hours kept up an incessant fire on the works, wasting their bullets, as it proved, for none of them did harm to fort or man.  As for the defenders, they had no ammunition to waste.  But most of them were sharp-shooters, and they took good care that every bullet should tell.  Nearly every report from behind the walls told a story of wound or death.  As good fortune willed, the savages had no artillery, and were little disposed to hazard their dusky skins in an assault in force on the well-defended walls.