order to draw as many shots as possible. This act of superb
self-sacrifice was successful; and while the rifles of the
whites, who riddled the brave Indian with balls, were empty, the
other savages made a wild dash for liberty. Seven fell thus under
the deadly rain of bullets; but many escaped. Ten of the Indians,
all told, lost their scalps, for which the volunteer rangers were
subsequently paid one hundred pounds by the colony of North
Carolina.

Beaten back from Fort Dobbs, sorely defeated along the Catawba,
hotly pursued by the rangers, the Cherokees continued to lurk in
the shadows of the dense forests, and at every opportunity to
fall suddenly upon way faring settlers and isolated cabins remote
from any stronghold. On March 8th William Fish, his son, and
Thompson, a companion, were riding along the "trace," in search
of provisions for a group of families fortified on the Yadkin,
when a flight of arrows hurtled from the cane-brake, and Fish and
his son fell dead. Although pierced with two arrows, one in the
hip and one clean through his body, Thompson escaped upon his
fleet horse; and after a night of ghastly suffering finally
reached the Carolina Fort at Bethabara. The good Dr. Bonn, by
skilfully extracting the barbed shafts from his body, saved
Thompson's life. The pious Moravians rejoiced over the recovery
of the brave messenger, whose sensational arrival gave them
timely warning of the close proximity of the Indians. While
feeding their cattle, settlers were shot from ambush by the
lurking foe; and on March 11th, a family barricaded within a
burning house, which they were defending with desperate courage,
were rescued in the nick of time by the militia. No episode from
Fenimore Cooper's Leatherstocking Tales surpasses in melancholy