the houses were still on fire, others were standing. Upon entering these a ghastly scene was presented. The dead and mangled bodies were strewn upon the floors, and the furniture was stained with human blood. They turned away, filled with horror. The adventurers came upon one house where the Indians had held a feast only a few hours previous. A large number of cattle had been killed, the meat roasted, and, after they had eaten to their satisfaction, they had fled. Pursuing their course, the white men soon came within a few rods of the enemy. They here boldly resolved to overtake them and see, if possible, what direction they were pursuing. The trail led them into a thicket, where, as soon as they had entered it, they were surprised by a volley of musketry, and four of their number were shot down. Thirty warriors rose from their hiding places and rushed upon them. The white men returned their fire and then fled in all directions. A boy named Charles Eliot was among the number. As he ran, plunging through the thickets, he heard his pursuers close behind. He seized his powder horn and poured the contents into his gun, dropping a bullet in after it without using a ramrod, and wheeling about he discharged his gun into the breast of the Indian who had now advanced to within three or four yards from him. He then continued his flight, leaving the Indian in the agonies of death, but at the next moment a faint voice earnestly called out his name. Turning to the spot he beheld one of his companions stretched helplessly on the ground. He had been mortally wounded by the first shot from the Indians, but had advanced thus far before his strength gave out. Eliot approached him but could offer no assistance. The dying man looked up into the face of his comrade, saying: "Here, Charley, take my gun, whenever you see an Indian kill him with it, and then I shall be satisfied." Eliot and several others of the party escaped to the settlement. They reported what they had seen and experienced, which added another cloud of horror to the desolating news that was hourly coming in from all points on the frontier. Several other parties went out, and one of them, commanded by the sheriff of the place, encountered a band of Indians, defeated them, and brought away many scalps.

The settlers now became frantic with alarm, and many of them left Carlisle and pushed rapidly towards Lancaster and Philadelphia. "Carlisle," says a reliable author, "presented a most deplorable spectacle. A multitude of refugees, unable to find shelter in the town, had encamped in the woods or on the adjacent fields, erecting huts of branches and bark, and living on such charity as the slender means of the townspeople could supply. Passing among them, one would have witnessed every form of human misery. In these wretched encampments were men, women and children, bereft, in one stroke, of friends, of home, and the means of supporting life. Some stood aghast and bewildered at the sudden and fatal blow, others were sunk into the apathy of despair, others were weeping and mourning with irrepressible anguish."

The multitude were now threatened with famine, and crowds of them flocked to the tents of Bouquet soliciting food, which he gave them.

In the meantime, the march of the little army had been considerably delayed. This was owing to the fact that, the necessary horses and wagons could not be procured, without returning to the older towns. After a delay of eighteen days Bouquet broke up his camp and marched towards Fort Pitt. As the little army passed through Carlisle, the frightened inhabitants crowded around them, and, no doubt, fervently prayed for their success. Bouquet's march was truly a bold adventure. In his front lay a vast wilderness, filled with ferocious warriors, who, from their secret shelters, would shoot down his soldiers at every turn. The memories of former days came up to weigh upon the stout heart of this gallant officer. He was about to march through a wild country upon whose bosom slept the bones of Braddock and the hundreds of brave soldiers who fell around him. The numbers of the latter far exceeded Bouquet's whole force, while, on the other hand, there were now a hundred warriors prowling the lonely woods to one when Braddock penetrated them. With one or two exceptions, the soldiers under Bouquet's command were wholly inexperienced in the perils of border warfare. To say the least, the

great end which he had set out to accomplish could not, apparently, be achieved with so small a force.

Let us, for a single moment, glance at this brave officer who was now, in the eyes of all around him, leading his army into the jaws of death. Henry Bouquet was a Swiss by birth.

His military career began when a boy. Previous to the war between France and England, he held a commission under the King of Sardinia, but when that struggle began, in 1755, he was engaged in the service of the King of Holland. At this time the Duke of Cumberland formed a plan to organize a corps to serve in the provinces, and to be called the Royal Americans. Bouquet accepted a position as Lieutenant Colonel in this regiment, and his services soon proved of great value. "His person was fine, his bearing composed and dignified." Everywhere in the provinces, and more especially in Pennsylvania, he was regarded with profound respect. He was a good English scholar, and could write with ease, and in a style of great purity. As a soldier, he was active, courageous and faithful. Withal, he had acquired a practical knowledge of Indian warfare. Brave as a lion, he would often, when the most dangerous passes were to be made, advance to the front of his men, and, with no other guard than his musket, lead the way like the boldest Indian warrior.

The army marched along the beautiful valley of the Cumberland. On every hand could be seen ruins, marking the deeds of savage cruelty. At length they reached Shippensburg, about twenty miles from Carlisle. Here, as at the latter place, were congregated a large number of pioneers, who had fled in terror from the scene of blood and slaughter.

From the latest advices, it now appeared that Fort Ligonier was about to fall into the hands of the Indians who were besieging it, and Bouquet resolved to send a detachment to its relief. For this purpose, thirty of the best men were selected, and ordered to force their way over the desolate mountains. Accordingly the party set out. Marching day and night, they at length came in sight of the hapless fort. It was surrounded by savages who were firing upon it. The adventurers made a

rush for the gate, and, although hotly charged upon by the Indians, entered it without losing a man.

But, meanwhile, the bulk of Bouquet's army moved slowly on towards Fort Pitt. They had now entered a country where, up to this time, no Englishman had ever ventured-the home of the fiercest warriors. "Far on their right stretched the green ridges of the Tuscarora, while, in front, mountain beyond mountain rose high against the horizon. Climbing heights, and descending into the valleys, passing the two solitary posts of Littleton and the Juniata, both abandoned by their garrisons, they came in sight of Fort Bedford, hemmed in by encircling mountains."

ans.

Bouquet's arrival was a happy event for the tired and worn garrison. They had long been besieged by a swarm of IndiAround this post, the work of scalping and murdering the settlers had been carried on until the forests rang with the scalp yells of a thousand savages. All had been killed who failed to escape within the gates of the little fort. The commandant, Capt. Ourry informed Bouquet that for several weeks he had been unable to hear from the garrison at Fort Pitt. The last accounts left it closely besieged by a thousand warriors. After resting his men for three days at this post, Bouquet continued his march, and was soon buried in the wilderness. The forest was dense, affording a good opportunity for ambuscades. In the advance were the provincial rangers, closely followed by the pioneers. The wagons and cattle were in the centre, guarded in front, flank and rear by the regulars. The rear was guarded by another company of rangers. The riflemen, acting as scouts, ranged through the woods far in front and at either flank. In this order the courageous army marched on; up, up the rugged side of the Alleghany Mountains. It was in the middle of July, and the heat was intolerable, but they toiled on, crossing the mountains, and, at length, reaching Fort Ligonier. At their advance the Indians fled in disorder, and Bouquet marched quietly up to the fort.

At this place he left the cattle, and some of the heaviest luggage, and resolved to make forced marches towards Fort Pitt. Thus relieved, the army pursued its course. At no

great distance in their front were the dangerous passes of the Turtle Creek. At this point Bouquet expected to encounter the enemy, and he therefore pushed on towards Bushy Run, hoping to cross Turtle Creek during the night. They toiled on, weary and foot-sore. At length the tired army was within half a mile of Bushy Run. Here they were to rest, preparatory to making the forced march through the dangerous defiles of Turtle Creek, but, when within a few rods of the coveted spot, the report of rifles from the front surprised the army. Alas! they had met the enemy. As they listened the reports become quicker, and now the fierce war-whoop resounded through the woods. The advanced guard was hotly engaged. Two companies were at once ordered to its support, but as the firing increased, indicating that the enemy had appeared in a large force, the army halted, the troops formed in line, and a charge was ordered. "Bearing down through the forest with fixed bayonets, they drove their yelping assailants before them, and swept the ground clear." But no sooner had this been done than a volley of musketry poured in upon them from either flank, and from the rear. Charging upon the enemy in the rear, they routed the savages in that quarter, and immediately surrounded their teams. In the distance, on every side they could hear the whoopings of the savages, and at every moment the report of their guns sounded out through the trees. Again and again, now on this side and now on that, a crowd of Indians rushed up, pouring in a heavy fire, and striving with ferocious outcries to break into the circle. At every attempt a well directed charge met them, putting them to flight. Few of the Indians were hurt, while the English suffered severely. Thus the fight went on, without intermission, for several hours, until the darkness of night gathered round them. Now the Indians slackened their fire, withdrawing from the scene of

action.

The soldiers now encamped on the spot where the battle had taken place. Numerous sentinels were stationed at a suitable distance from the camp in every direction.

Bouquet now feeling confident that they would be attacked on the following morning, and fearing that he would not sur