o places, no particular
danger was apprehended. The Indians, however, from the fastnesses of
the forest, were all the time watching their movements with eagle eye,
and with consummate cunning were plotting their destruction.

After leaving Deerfield, the march led for about three miles through a
very level country, densely wooded on each side of the road. The march
was then continued for half a mile along the borders of a morass
filled with large trees and tangled underbrush. Here a thousand
Indians had planted themselves in ambuscade. It was a serene and
beautiful autumnal day. Grape-vines festooned the gigantic trees of
the forest, and purple clusters, ripe and juicy, hung in profusion
among the boughs. Captain Lothrop was so unsuspicious of danger that
many of his men had thrown their guns into the carts, and were
strolling about gathering grapes.

The critical moment arrived, and the English being in the midst of the
ambush, a thousand Indians sprang up from their concealment, and
poured in upon the straggling column a heavy and destructive fire.
Then, with savage yells, which seemed to fill the whole forest, they
rushed from every quarter to close assault. The English were scattered
in a long line of march, and the Indians, with the ferocity of
wolves, sprang upon them ten to one. A dreadful scene of tumult,
dismay, and carnage ensued.

The tragic drama was soon closed. The troops, broken and scattered,
could only resort to the Indian mode of fighting, each one skulking
behind a tree. But they were so entirely surrounded and overpowered
that no one could discharge his musket more than two or three times
before he fell. Some, in their dismay, leaped into the branches of
the trees, hoping thus to escape observation. The savages, with shouts
of derision, mocked them for a time, and then pierced them with
bullets until they dropped to the ground. All the wounded were
indiscriminately butchered. But eight escaped to tell the awful story.
Ninety perished upon this bloody field. The young men who were thus
slaughtered constituted the flower of Essex county. They had been
selected for their intrepidity and hardihood from all the towns. Their
destruction caused unspeakable anguish in their homes, and sent a wave
of grief throughout all the colonies. The little stream in the south
part of Deerfield, upon the banks of which this memorable tragedy
occurred, has in consequence received the name of Bloody Brook.

Captain Mo