The Indians numbered not less than thirty,
and both Braxton Wyatt and Coleman were with them, but the value
of skill was here shown by the smaller party, the one that
attacked. The frontiersmen, trained to every trick and wile of
the forest, and marksmen such as the Indians were never able to
become, continually pressed in and drove the Iroquois from tree
to tree. Once or twice the warriors started a rush, but they
were quickly driven back by sharpshooting such as they had never
faced before. They soon realized that this was no band of border
farmers, armed hastily for an emergency, but a foe who knew
everything that they knew, and more.
Braxton Wyatt and his friend Coleman fought with the Iroquois,
and Wyatt in particular was hot with rage. He suspected that the
five who had defeated him so often were among these marksmen, and
there might be a chance now to destroy them all. He crept to the
side of the fierce old Seneca chief, Hiokatoo, and suggested that
a part of their band slip around and enfold the enemy.
Old Hiokatoo, in the thick of battle now, presented his most
terrifying aspect. He was naked save the waist cloth, his great
body was covered with scars, and, as he bent a little forward, he
held cocked and ready in his hands a fine rifle that had been
presented to him by his good friend, the king.
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