red to fall
back. The entire little army, which was being pressed hard now, seeing
the movement of Whittlesey, began to retreat. Even without the mistake
it is likely they would have lost in the face of such numbers.

The entire horde of Indians, Tories, Canadians, English, and renegades,
uttering a tremendous yell, rushed forward. Colonel Zebulon Butler,
seeing the crisis, rode up and down in front of his men, shouting:
"Don't leave me, my children! the victory is ours!" Bravely his officers
strove to stop the retreat. Every captain who led a company into action
was killed. Some of these captains were but boys. The men were falling
by dozens.

All the Indians, by far the most formidable part of the invading force,
were through the swamp now, and, dashing down their unloaded rifles,
threw themselves, tomahawk in hand, upon the defense. Not more than two
hundred of the Wyoming men were left standing, and the impact of seven
or eight hundred savage warriors was so great that they were hurled back
in confusion. A wail of grief and terror came from the other side of
the river, where a great body of women and children were watching the
fighting.

"The battle's lost," said Shif'less Sol.

"Beyond hope of saving it," said Henry, "but, boys, we five are alive
yet, and we'll do our best to help the others protect the retreat."

They kept under cover, fighting as calmly as they could amid such a
terrible scene, picking off warrior after warrior, saving more than one
soldier ere the tomahawk fell. Shif'less Sol took a shot at "Indian"
Butler, but he was too far away, and the bullet missed him.

"I'd give five years of my life if he were fifty yards nearer,"
exclaimed the shiftless one.

But the invading force came in between and he did not get another shot.
There was now a terrible medley, a continuous uproar, the crashing fire
of hundreds of rifles, the shouts of the Indians, and the cries of the
wounded. Over them all hovered smoke and dust, and the air was heavy,
too, with the odor of burnt gunpowder. The division of old men and very
young boys stood next, and the Indians were upon them, tomahawk in hand,
but in the face of terrible odds all bore themselves with a valor worthy
of the best of soldiers. Three fourths of them died that day, before
they were driven back on the fort.

The Wyoming force was pushed away from the edge of the swamp, which had
been some protection to the left, and they were now assailed from all