ground.
Instantly recovering from the shock, he pursued his course to the fort
with the Indian close at his heels. Mr. Meigs was in the vigor of early
manhood, and had, by frequent practice in the race, become a very swift
runner. His foeman was also very fleet, and amongst the most active of
their warriors, as none but such were sent into the settlements on
marauding excursions. The race continued for sixty or eighty rods with
little advantage on either side, when Mr. Meigs gradually increased his
distance ahead, and leaping across a deep run that traversed the path, the
Indian stopped on the brink, threw his tomahawk, and gave up the pursuit
with one of those fierce yells which rage and disappointment both served
to sharpen. It was distinctly heard at both the forts. About sixteen years
since, an Indian tomahawk was ploughed up near this spot, and was most
probably the one thrown at Mr. Meigs; as the rescue and pursuit from Fort
Harmar was so immediate upon hearing the alarm, that he had no time to
recover it. With the scalp of the poor black boy, the Indians ascended the
abrupt side of the hill which overlooked the garrison, and shouting
defiance to their foes, escaped in the forest.

The excitement was very great at the garrison, and taught the inmates a
useful lesson; that of being better armed and more on their guard when
they went out on agricultural pursuits. Had Mr. Meigs tried any other
expedient than that of facing his enemy and rushing instantly upon him, he
must have lost his life, as the Indian was well aware of his gun being
unloaded. On his right was the river, on his left a very high hill; beyond
him the pathless forest, and between him and the fort his Indian foe. To
his sudden and unexpected attack, to his dauntless and intrepid manner,
and to his activity, he undoubtedly owed his life.

ESTILL'S DEFEAT.

One of the most remarkable pioneer fights, in the early history of the
west, was that waged by Captain James Estill, and seventeen of his
associates, on the 22d of March, 1782, with a party of Wyandotte Indians,
twenty-five in number. Seventy-one years almost have elapsed since; yet
one of the actors in that sanguinary struggle, Rev. Joseph Proctor, of
Estill county, Kentucky, survived to the 2d of December, 1844, dying in
the full enjoyment of his faculties at the age of ninety. His wife, the
partner of his early privations and toils, and nearly as old as himself,
deceased six months previ