e black people; therefore their blood was getting to
be a mixture of good and bad from three races.

Head Chief William Macintosh was the peace chief. He was half Scotch
and half Creek, and bore his father's family name. He joined the side
of the United States.

The war chiefs were Lam-o-chat-tee, or Red Eagle, and Menewa. They,
too, were half-breeds.

Chief Red Eagle was called William Weatherford, after his white trader
father who had married a Creek girl. He lived in princely style, on a
fine plantation, surrounded with slaves and luxury.

Menewa was second to Chief Macintosh. His name meant "Great Warrior";
and by reason of his daring he had earned another name, Ho-thle-po-ya,
or Crazy-war-hunter. He was born in 1765, and was now forty-eight
years old. He and Chief Macintosh were rivals for favor and position.

Menewa was the head war chief--he frequently crossed into Tennessee, to
steal horses from the American settlers there. A murder was committed
by Indians, near his home; Georgians burned one of his towns, as
punishment. Chief Macintosh was accused of having caused this murder,
in order to enrage the white people against Menewa; and when Macintosh
stood out for peace, Menewa stood out for war.

He and Chief Weatherford led the Red Sticks upon the war trail; but
greater in rank than either of them was Monahoe, the ruling prophet, of
Menewa's own band. He was the head medicine-chief. He was the Sitting
Bull of the Creeks, like the later Sitting Bull of the Sioux.

Out went the Red Sticks, encouraged by Monahoe and the other prophets.
Already the white settlers had become alarmed at the quarrel between
the Macintosh bands and the Menewa bands. When two Indian parties
fight, then the people near them suffer by raids. All Alabama,
Mississippi and Georgia prepared for defense.

There were killings; but the first big blow with the Creek hatchet, to
help the British and to drive the Americans into the sea, was struck in
August against Fort Mimms, at the mouth of the Alabama River in
southwestern Alabama above Mobile.

With all the cunning of the three bloods, the warriors waited until
sand enough had drifted, day by day, to keep the gate of the fort from
being quickly closed. Then, at noon of August 30, they rushed in. The
commander of the fort had been warned, but he was as foolish as some of
those officers in the Pontiac war. The garrison, of regulars, militia,
and volunteers, fought furious