if they surrendered, but could not restrain the Indians if they carried the fort by storm; adding, he supposed they knew who it was that thus addressed them. A young man, named Reynolds, fearing the effect which the threat of cannon might have on the minds of the defending party with the fate of Martin's and Ruddle's stations fresh in their memories, left no opportunity for conference by replying instantly, that he knew him well and held him in such contempt that he had called a good-for-nothing dog he had by the name of Simon Girty. "Know you?" added he, we all know you for a renegade, cowardly villain, that delights in murdering women and children! Wait until morning and you will find on what side the reinforcements are. We expect to leave not one of your cowardly souls alive, and if you are caught, our women shall whip you to death with hickory switches. Clear out, you cutthroat villain." Some of the Kentuckians shouted out, "Shoot the d-d rascal!" and Girty was glad to retreat out of the range of their rifles, lest some one of the garrison might be tempted to adopt the advice.

The night passed away in uninterrupted tranquillity, and at daylight in the morning the Indian camp was found deserted. Fires were still burning brightly and several pieces of meat were left upon their roasting-sticks, from which it was inferred that they had retreated just before daybreak.

Battle of the Blue Licks.-Early in the day reinforcements began to drop in, and by noon one hundred and sixty-seven men were assembled at Bryant's station, among whom were Cols. Boone, Todd, and Trigg; and Majors Harland, McBride, M'Gary, and Levy Todd; and Captains Bulzer and Gordon; of the last six named, except Todd and M'Gary, all fell in the subsequent battle. A tumultuous conversation ensued, and it was unanimously resolved to pursue the enemy forthwith, notwithstanding that they were three to one in numbers. The Indians, contrary to their usual custom, left a broad and obvious trail, and manifested a willingness to be pursued. Notwithstanding, such was the impetuosity of the Kentuckians that they overlooked these considerations, and hastened on with fatal resolution, most of them being mounted.

The next day about noon they came, for the first time, in view of the enemy at the Lower Blue Licks. A number of Indians were seen ascending the rocky ridge on the opposite side of the Licking. They halted upon the appearance of the Kentuckians, gazed at them a few moments, and then calmly and leisurely disappeared over the top of the hill. An immediate halt ensued. A dozen or twenty officers met in front of the ranks, and entered into consultation. The wild and lonely aspect of the country around them, their distance from any point of support, with the certainty of their being in the presence of a superior enemy, seems to have inspired a portion of seriousness bordering upon awe. All eyes were now turned upon Boone, and Col. Todd asked his opinion as

to what should be done. The veteran woodsman, with his usual unmoved gravity, replied:

That their situation was critical and delicate; that the force opposed to them was undoubtedly numerous and ready for battle, as might readily be seen from the leisurely retreat of the few Indians who had appeared on the crest of the hill; that he was well acquainted with the ground in the neighborhood of the Lick, and was apprehensive that an ambuscade was formed at the distance of a mile in advance where two ravines, one upon each side of the ridge, ran in such a manner that a concealed enemy might assail them at once both in front and flank before they were apprised of the danger.

It would be proper, therefore, to do one of two things. Either to await the arrival of Logan, who was now undoubtedly on his march to join them with a strong force from Lincoln, or, if it was determined to attack them without delay, that one half of their number should march up the river, which there bends in an elliptical form, cross at the rapids and fall upon the rear of the enemy while the other division attacked in front. At any rate, he strongly urged the necessity of reconnoitering the ground carefully before the main body crossed the river.

Boone was heard in silence and with deep attention. Some wished to adopt the first plan, others preferred the second, and the discussion threatened to be drawn out to some length, when the boiling ardor of M'Gary, who could never endure the presence of an enemy without instant battle, stimulated him to an act which had nearly proved destructive to his country. He suddenly interrupted the consultation with a loud whoop resembling the war-cry of the Indians, spurred his horse into the stream, waved his hat over his head, and shouted aloud: "Let all who are not cowards follow me!" The words and the action together produced an electrical effect. The mounted. men dashed tumultuously into the river, each striving to be foremost. The footmen were mingled with them in one rolling and irregular mass.

No order was given, and none observed. They struggled through a deep ford as well as they could, M'Gary still leading the van, closely followed by Majors Harland and McBride. With the same rapidity they ascended the ridge, which, by the trampling of Buffalo foragers, had been stripped bare of all vegetation, with the exception of a few dwarfish cedars, and which was rendered still more desolate in appearance, by the multitude of rocks, blackened by the sun, which was spread over its surface.

Suddenly the van halted. They had reached the spot mentioned by Boone, where the two ravines head, on each side of the ridge. Here a body of Indians presented themselves, and attacked the van. M'Gary's party instantly returned the fire, but under great disadvantage. They were upon a bare and open ridge; the Indians in a bushy ravine. The center and rear, ignorant of the ground, hurried up to the assistance of the van, but were soon

stopped by a terrible fire from the ravine, which flanked them. They found themselves inclosed as if in the wings of a net, destitute of proper shelter, while the enemy were, in a great measure, covered from their fire. Still, however, they maintained their ground. The action became warm and bloody. The parties gradually closed, the Indians emerged from the ravine, and the fire became mutually destructive. The officers suffered dreadfully. Todd and Trigg, in the rear; Harland, M'Bride and young Boone, in front, were already killed.

The Indians gradually extended their line, to turn the right of the Kentuckians, and cut off their retreat. This was quickly perceived by the weight of the fire from that quarter, and the rear instantly fell back in disorder, and attempted to rush through their only opening to the river. The motion quickly communicated itself to the van, and a hurried retreat became general. The Indians instantly sprung forward in pursuit, and falling upon them with their tomahawks, made a cruel slaughter. From the battleground to the river, the spectacle was terrible. The horsemen generally escaped, but the foot, particularly the van, which had advanced farthest within the wings of the net, were almost totally destroyed. Col. Boone, after witnessing the death of his son and many of his dearest friends, found himself almost entirely surrounded at the very commencement of the retreat.

Several hundred Indians were between him and the ford, to which the great mass of the fugitives were bending their flight, and to which the attention of the savages was principally directed. Being intimately acquainted with the ground, he, together with a few friends, dashed into the ravine which the Indians had occupied, but which most of them had now left to join in the pursuit. After sustaining one or two heavy fires, and baffling one or two small parties, who pursued him for a short distance, he crossed the river below the ford, by swimming, and entering the wood at a point where there was no pursuit, returned by a circuitous route to Bryant's station. In the meantime, the great mass of the victors and vanquished crowded the bank of the ford.

The slaughter was great in the river. The ford was crowded with horsemen and foot and Indians, all mingled together. Some were compelled to seek a passage above by swimming; some, who could not swim, were overtaken and killed at the edge of the water. A man by the name of Netherland, who had formerly been strongly suspected of cowardice, here displayed a coolness and presence of mind, equally noble and unexpected.

Being the first in gaining the opposite bank, he then instantly checked his horse, and in a loud voice, called upon his companions to halt, fire upon the Indians, and save those who were still in the stream. The party instantly obeyed; and facing about, poured a close and fatal discharge of rifles upon the foremost of the pursuers. The enemy instantly fell back from the opposite bank, and gave time for the harassed and miserable footmen to cross in safety.

The check, however, was but momentary. Indians were seen crossing in great numbers above and below, and the flight again became general. Most of the foot left the great buffalo track, and plunging into the thickets, escaped by a circuitous route to Bry

ant's station.

But little loss was sustained after crossing the river, although the pursuit was urged keenly for twenty miles. From the battleground to the ford, the loss was very heavy; and at that stage of the retreat, there occurred a rare and striking instance of magnanimity, which it would be criminal to omit. The reader could not have forgotten young Reynolds, who replied with such rough but ready humor to the pompous summons of Girty, at the siege of Bryant's station. This young man after bearing his share in the action with distinguished gallantry, was galloping with several other horsemen in order to reach the ford. The great body of fugitives had preceded them, and their situation was in the highest degree critical and dangerous.

About halfway between the battleground and the river, the party overtook Capt. Patterson, on foot, exhausted by the rapidity of the flight, and in consequence of former wounds received from the Indians, so infirm as to be unable to keep up with the main body of the men on foot. The Indians were close behind him, and his fate seemed inevitable. Reynolds, upon coming up with this brave officer, instantly sprung from his horse, aided Patterson to mount into the saddle, and continued his own flight on foot. Being remarkably active and vigorous, he contrived to elude his pursuers, and turning off from the main road, plunged into the river near the spot where Boone had crossed, and swam in safety to the opposite side. Unfortunately, he wore a pair of buckskin breeches, which had become so heavy and full of water as to prevent his exerting himself with his usual activity, and while sitting down for the purpose of pulling them off, he was overtaken by a party of Indians, and made prisoner.

A prisoner is rarely put to death by the Indians, unless wounded or infirm, until they return to their own country; and then his fate is decided in solemn council. Young Reynolds, therefore, was treated kindly, and compelled to accompany his captors in the pursuit. A small party of Kentuckians soon attracted their attention; and he was left in charge of three Indians, who, eager in pursuit, in turn committed him to the charge of one of their number, while they followed their companions. Reynolds and his guard jogged along very leisurely; the former totally unarmed; the latter, with a tomahawk and rifle in his hands. At length the Indian stopped to tie his moccasin, when Reynolds instantly sprung upon him, knocked him down with his fist, and quickly disappeared in the thicket which surrounded them. For this act of generosity, Capt. Patterson afterward made him a present of two hundred acres of first-rate land.

The melancholy intelligence rapidly spread throughout the

country, and the whole land was covered with mourning, for it was the greatest loss that Kentucky had ever experienced in Indian warfare. Sixty Kentuckians were slain and a number taken prisoners. The loss of the Indians while the battle lasted, was also considerable, though far inferior to that of the whites.

On the very day of the battle Colonel Logan arrived at Bryant's station with four hundred and fifty men. Fearful of some disaster, he marched on with the utmost diligence, and soon met the foremost of the fugitives. Learning from them the said tidings, he continued on, hoping to come up with the enemy at the field of battle, which he reached on the second day. The enemy were gone, but the body of the Kentuckians still lay unburied on the spot where they had fallen. Immense flocks of buzzards were soaring over the battleground, and the bodies of the dead had become so much swollen and disfigured that it was impossible to recognize the features of the most particular friends. Many corpses were floating near the shore of the northern bank, already putrid from the action of the sun, and partially eaten by fishes. The whole were carefully collected by Colonel Logan, and interred as decently as the nature of the soil would permit.

As soon as intelligence of this disastrous battle reached Colonel George Rogers Clarke, who then resided at Louisville, he set on foot an expedition against the Shawanese. In the latter part of September, one thousand Kentuckians rendezvoused at the mouth of the Licking, and marching northward a distance of near one hundred miles, destroyed the Indian towns near the site of Piqua, Ohio. From that time forward the Indians never again as a body invaded the country south of the Ohio, and a few months later hostilities ceased between the United States and Great Britain.

. THE HARD WINTER OF 1780.

THE winter of 1779-'80, was a marked era in the history of the West. It proved to be uncommonly severe, insomuch that it was distinguished as the Hard Winter. The rivers, creeks, and branches were covered with ice of great thickness, where the water was sufficient; while the latter were generally converted into solid crystal. The snow, by repeated falls, increased to an unusual depth, and continued for an extraordinary length of time: so that men and beasts could, with much difficulty, travel; and suffered greatly in obtaining food, or died of want and the cold combined.

Many families traveling to Kentucky in this season, were overtaken in the wilderness, and their progress arrested by the severity of the weather. Compelled to encamp and abide the storm, the pains of both hunger and frost were inflicted on them in many instances in a most excruciating degree. For when their traveling stock of provisions was exhausted, as was soon the case with many,