up our camp fires and then fell back into the dark, expecting to see the
Indians pouring in, and intending, when they should do so, to shoot them
by the light of our own fires. It so happened, however, that the Indians
did not rush in as we expected, but commenced a fire on us as we were.
This we returned and continued to shoot as well as we could in the dark,
guided only by the flash of the Indians' guns. When day broke, the
Indians disappeared, but they had killed four of our men and wounded
several. Whether we killed any of the Indians or not, we could not tell,
for it is their custom to carry off their dead whenever they can. We
buried ours all in one grave and laid logs over them and set them afire,
so that the savages might not find them when they returned, as we knew
they would do, to scalp the slain.

We made some horse-litters for our wounded, and took up our retreat. We
had to cross a large creek, and when about half our men were over, the
Indians commenced firing and kept it up very warmly. They hid themselves
behind a large log and could kill one of our men, who were in open
ground and exposed, with almost every shot. At this trying moment two
of our colonels left their men, and by a _forced march_ crossed the
creek out of the reach of the fire. Here Governor Carroll distinguished
himself by a greater bravery than I ever saw in any other man. In truth,
I believe that if it hadn't been for Carroll, we should all have been
genteelly licked that time; with part of our men on one side of the
creek and part on the other, and the Indians all the time pouring it in
on us as hot as fresh mustard is to sore skin. I know I was mighty glad
when the savages quit us, for I began to think there was one behind
every tree in the woods.

Soon after this, an army was raised to go to Pensacola, and I determined
to go again with them, for I wanted a small taste of British fighting
and supposed I would find it there. I joined old Major Russell again and
followed on after the main army with about a hundred and thirty men in
our company. We crossed the river near where I had crossed when I first
went out; then we passed through the Choctaw and Chickasaw nations to
what is called the Cut-off at the junction of the Tom Bigby with the
Alabama River.

This place is near the old Fort Mimms where the Indians committed the
great butchery at the commencement of the war. The fort was built right
in the middle of a large old field; and