Colonel Coffee had only nine hundred men with him, and sent forward only a few of his soldiers to attack the Indian stockade and then to retreat. He thus hoped to entice the red men from their strong position, and his plan was entirely successful. After making a vigorous advance against the Creeks, his soldiers began to fall back, and then to run away. The Indians hotly pursued, thinking that they had the white men at their mercy. But this is exactly what Coffee wished them to do. His greater force was lying in ambuscade, and, as the painted warriors rushed, yelping, after his flying column, his other soldiers poured vigorous broadsides into their ranks.
Dismayed and terrified, the followers of Weatherford now turned to retreat, but the Americans surrounded them entirely. Then ensued a sanguinary, hand-to-hand encounter. Some of the red warriors broke through the surrounding line and ran back to their village, where they hid in the tepees. As long as they had power to move a limb, they fought like tigers at bay. But the white troops soon overcame all resistance, and killed all of those who had, such a short time before, rushed victoriously against them. Five of the Americans only were killed, and forty-one were wounded, while about two hundred Indians were put to death.
Weatherford was not with this division of his forces, but, with a more powerful contingent, was besieging the friendly Path Killer at Fort Talladega. Jackson hurried to the relief of this place, and, because of very swift marching, arrived there much sooner than the Creeks had expected. But Weatherford was not taken by surprise, and hurled his warriors against the militia with such fury that they gave away. Jackson quickly brought up some mounted rangers, who charged the oncoming redskins with a will. In spite of Weatherford's example and exhortations, his red warriors now broke and ran. Three miles off was a range of densely wooded mountains, and to this the Creeks hastened as fast as their nimble limbs would carry them, while the Americans followed in hot pursuit. Fully a thousand savages fell before the onrush of the men in fringed buckskin, while but fifteen of the American riflemen were killed.
As the Creeks, weary and disgruntled, rested in the security of the mountains, a warrior approached Weatherford, and said:
"Great Chief, I see that we can do nothing against these whites. They will conquer us, no matter how long we resist. I, for one, am going to give myself up. As for you, you can continue the war if you so will, but it will be useless."
"Coward," shouted the Creek leader in great wrath. "I will have your blood for such treachery!" And with no more words, he struck the red man down with his hatchet.
With Jackson things were also going ill. His men grew so ill-humored with starvation that many revolted, and there was danger of the expedition being abandoned. One day, a starving soldier saw the General sitting under a tree, eating something, and going to him, said:
"General Jackson, I can stand this no longer. If you cannot furnish me with bread, I will go home, and many others with me. Men, sir, cannot fight on empty stomachs."
Jackson looked carefully at him before answering.
"You see that I am eating," said he. "I am always ready to divide with a hungry man. Here, take half of my supply of nourishment."