ation, fell in the action. Throughout this bloody engagement
the coolness and bravery of Proctor were unsurpassed. But his conduct
after the battle has always, with those acquainted with it, elicited the
warmest commendation. He brought off the field of battle, and most of the
way to the station, a distance of forty miles, on his back, his badly
wounded friend, the late brave Colonel William Irvine, so long and so
favorably known in Kentucky.

A PIONEER MOTHER.

The mothers of the west deserve as wide a fame as their fearless husbands
and brothers. In no situation were courage and resolution so much required
in women as in the western wilderness, during the Indian wars, and even
the celebrated heroines of European history seem to us ordinary in
comparison.

In the fall of 1779, Samuel Daviess, who resided in Bedford county,
Virginia, moved with his family to Kentucky, and lived for a time, at
Whitley's station, in Lincoln. After residing for some time in the
station, he removed for a time to a place called Gilmer's Lick, some six
or seven miles distant from said station, where he built a cabin, cleared
some land, which he put in corn next season, not apprehending any danger
from the Indians, although he was considered a frontier settler. But this
imaginary state of security did not last long; for one morning in August,
1782, having stepped a few paces from his door, he was suddenly surprised
by an Indian appearing between him and the door, with tomahawk uplifted,
almost within striking distance. In this unexpected condition, and being
entirely unarmed, his first thought was, that by running round the house,
he could enter the door in safety, but to his surprise, in attempting to
effect this object, as he approached the door he found the house full of
Indians. Being closely pursued by the Indian first mentioned, he made his
way into the cornfield, where he concealed himself with much difficulty,
until the pursuing Indian had returned to the house.

[Illustration: SCALPING.]

Unable as he was to render any relief to his family, there being five
Indians, he ran with the utmost speed to the station of his brother, a
distance of five miles. As he approached the station, his undressed
condition told the tale of his distresses, before he was able to tell it
himself. Almost breathless, and with a faltering voice, he could only say,
his wife and children were in the hands of the Indians. Scarcely was the
communicati