e sluggish stream.
Just as the sun was rising over the forest, they reached the camp of
Major Russell. The detachment then immediately commenced its march down
the River Scambia, and joined the main body at a point called Miller's
Landing. Here learning that some fugitive Indians were on the eastern
side of the stream, a mounted party was sent across, swimming their
horses, and several Indians were hunted down and shot.

Soon after this, the whole party, numbering nearly twelve hundred in
all, commenced a toilsome march of about two or three hundred miles
across the State to the Chattahoochee River, which constitutes the
boundary-line between Southern Alabama and Georgia. Their route led
through pathless wilds. No provisions, of any importance, could be
found by the way. They therefore took with them rations for
twenty-eight days. But their progress was far more slow and toilsome
than they had anticipated. Dense forests were to be threaded, where it
was necessary for them to cut their way through almost tropical
entanglement of vegetation. Deep and broad marshes were to be waded,
where the horses sank almost to their saddle-girths. There were rivers
to be crossed, which could only be forded by ascending the banks
through weary leagues of wilderness.

Thus, when twenty-eight days had passed, and their provisions were
nearly expended, though they had for some time been put on short
allowance, they found that they had accomplished but three-quarters of
their journey. Actual starvation threatened them. But twice in nineteen
days did Crockett Taste of any bread. Despondency spread its gloom over
the half-famished army. Still they toiled along, almost hopeless, with
tottering footsteps. War may have its excitements and its charms. But
such a march as this, of woe-begone, emaciate, skeleton bands, is not
to be counted as among war's pomps and glories.

One evening, in the deepening twilight, when they had been out
thirty-four days, the Indian scouts, ever sent in advance, came into
camp with the announcement, that at the distance of but a few hours'
march before them, the Chattahoochee River was to be found, with a
large Indian village upon its banks. We know not what reason there was
to suppose that the Indians inhabiting this remote village were
hostile. But as the American officers decided immediately upon
attacking them, we ought to suppose that they, on the ground, had
sufficient reason to justify this course.

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