emed a very long time before I heard the bushes rustle. I
drew my ax, but a voice whispering "Richmond," the parole for the night,
composed me. Feeling his way to my side he gravely informed me:

"There's seventy-eight or nine rafts an' a few canoes. It's goin' to be a
fine piece o' fightin'. At least there's a thousand warriors on this side
an' a lot o' squaws an' boys."

I estimated our army at eleven hundred and I thanked God they were all
frontiersmen.

Cousin now was as eager to go as I; and leaving our hiding-place, we
worked north until we felt safe to make a detour to the east. Our progress
was slow as there was no knowing how far the Indian scouts were ranging.
Once we were forced to remain flat on our stomachs while a group of
warriors passed within a dozen feet of us, driving to their camp some
strayed beeves from the high rolling bottom-lands to the east. When the
last of them had passed I observed with great alarm a thinning out of the
darkness along the eastern skyline.

"Good God! We'll be too late!" I groaned. "Let's fire our guns and give
the alarm!"

"Not yet!" snarled my companion. "I must be in the thick o' that fight.
We're too far east to git to camp in a hustle. We must sneak atween the
hills an' that small slash (Virginian for marsh). Foller me."

We changed our course so as to avoid the low hills drained by Crooked
Creek, and made after the warriors. About an hour before sunrise we were
at the head of the marsh, and in time to witness the first act of the
day's great drama. Two men were working out of the fallen timber, and
Cousin threw up his double-barrel rifle. I checked him, saying:

"Don't! They're white!"

"Renegades!"

"John Sevier's younger brother, Valentine. T'other is Jim Robertson."

"Then Lewis knows. He sent 'em to scout the camp."

"They're after game. James Shelby is sick with the fever. Yesterday
morning he asked them to perch a turkey for him. Signal them. They know
nothing about the Indians!"

Cousin risked discovery by standing clear of the bushes and waving his
hat. "There comes two more of 'em!" he exclaimed.

This couple was some distance behind the Watauga boys, but I recognized
them. One was James Mooney, my companion on the Coal River scout. The
other was Joseph Hughey.

I jumped out and stood beside Cousin and waved my arms frantically. One of
them caught the motion and said something. The four paused and stared at
us. We made emphatic gestures for the