Dunlap and Nora.
But Dunlap was not lost. He was shot through the left shoulder when the attack was first made, fainted and fell, and was scalped and left for dead. He lay hours, until nightfall—half waking, half sleeping and dreaming. Suddenly he felt a soft hand bathing his fevered head. He knew this kindness came not from savage hands, nor from the rough goodness of a fellow huntsman, for the sweetness of an angel's breath fanned his face. Pain was forgotten, yet he was afraid to move lest the charm should be broken and the vision vanish. Half unconscious, he whispered, as if by inspiration, "Nora." And the guardian angel hovered about him proved to be the Nora for whom he had been searching. She suppressed an involuntary scream as she recognized the object of her compassion, and, laying her hand on the face of her old friend, in a trembling voice said:
"Oh! my more than brother, have we met at last, after so many long and weary years of separation, each of which has seemed an eternity?"
The recognition was mutual, but the meeting was too happy, too full of sacred joy, to be intruded upon. The wounds of Dunlap were carefully bound up by Nora, after the fashion of her companions from girlhood, and they at once removed as far as possible from the vicinity of the fight. They were not discovered the next morning and then commenced a long and weary journey homeward, which extended through many days. At last they saw the curling smoke arising from their native cabin. Here the long lost were greeted with joy, and at an early day there was a wedding—Dunlap and Nora were united, and at once settled down to the realities of life.
In 1796, fearing other molestations from the savages, who were then hostile to the whites, the Dunlap family sold their lands in Bibb and removed to Liberty County, Georgia, where, at the present time, many of their children's children may be found occupying high social positions.