mmediately called his company together, and, running
from house to house, collected every loaf of bread in town for the
supply of his troops.

Early in the afternoon he commenced his march, and early in the
evening arrived at Bridgewater. As they were advancing in the
darkness, they heard a sharp firing in the distance. It afterward
appeared that Philip had felled a tree across the stream, which was
there quite narrow, as a bridge for his men. Some energetic
Bridgewater lads had watched the movements of the Indians, and had
concealed themselves in ambush on the Bridgewater side of the stream.
As soon as the Indians commenced passing over the tree, they poured in
upon them a volley of bullets. Many dropped from the slender bridge,
dead and wounded, into the river. The rest precipitately retreated.
This was on the evening of the 31st of July.

Early the next morning, Captain Church, having greatly increased his
force by the inhabitants of Bridgewater, marched cautiously to the
spot where Philip had attempted to effect a passage. Accompanied by a
single Indian, he crept to the banks of the stream where the tree had
been. He saw upon the opposite side an Indian in a melancholy, musing
posture, sitting alone upon a stump. He was within short musket shot.
Church clapped his gun to his shoulder, and was just upon the point of
firing, when the Indian who accompanied him hastily called out for him
not to fire, for he believed it was one of their own men. The Indian
heard the warning, and, startled, looked up. Captain Church instantly
saw it was King Philip himself. In another instant the report of a gun
was heard, and a bullet whistled through the thin air, but Philip,
with the speed of an antelope, was gone.

Captain Church immediately rallied his company, crossed the river, and
pursued the Indians. The savages scattered and fled in all directions.
Church and his men picked up a large number of women and children
flying in dismay through the woods. Among the rest, he captured the
wife of Philip and their only son, a bright boy nine years of age.
Quinnapin, the husband of Wetamoo, with a large band of the Indians,
retreated down the eastern bank of the river, looking anxiously for a
place where they might ford the stream. Captain Church followed upon
their trail, pursued them across the stream, and continued the chase
until he thought it necessary to return and secure the prisoners.

The Saconet Indians begged permission to