An Indian fired at him point
blank, and he swung heavily with his clubbed rifle. Then his
comrades were by his side, and they leaped down into the Indian
camp. After them came the riflemen, and then the line of
bayonets. Even then the great Mohawk and the great Wyandot
shouted to their men to stand fast, although the Royal Greens and
the Rangers had begun to run, and the Johnsons, the Butlers,
McDonald, Wyatt, and the other white men were running with them.
Henry, with the memory of Wyoming and all the other dreadful
things that had come before his eyes, saw red. He was conscious
of a terrible melee, of striking again and again with his clubbed
rifle, of fierce brown faces before him, and of Timmendiquas and
Thayedanegea rushing here and there, shouting to their warriors,
encouraging them, and exclaiming that the battle was not lost.
Beyond he saw the vanishing forms of the Royal Greens and the
Rangers in full flight. But the Wyandots and the best of the
Iroquois still stood fast until the pressure upon them became
overwhelming. When the line of bayonets approached their breasts
they fell back. Skilled in every detail of ambush, and a
wonderful forest fighter, the Indian could never stand the
bayonet.
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