“Father!” cried the boy. He could scarcely believe the evidence of his eyes.
“Yes, yes,” answered Ezra Winship. “Here, take this pistol and defend yourself.”
The fighting on all sides was now fearful, and hunting knives and tomahawks were freely used. The whites lost no time in seeing Mrs. Winship and Clara to a place of safety, and in caring for the other captives.
For once the red men had been caught napping, and the battle went against them from the very start. With Long Knife dead they speedily became demoralized, and in less than quarter of an hour after the first shot was fired they were fleeing in all directions.
But the blood of the pioneers was now up, and the chase after the Indians was kept up all of that night and also the day following. How many were killed and wounded will never be known, but it is a fact that from that time forth the bands that had formerly been headed by Long Knife and Red Feather became a thing of the past. Those who were not killed left that vicinity entirely and their squaws and children went after them.
Wounded though he was, Joe went with his father after the Indians, so that he did not return to his mother’s side until sometime after his rescue from the flames.
It was a happy reunion and one long remembered, both by the Winships and the Parsons. And all of the other captives who had at last escaped from the clutches of the red men were equally joyful.
At the Indian village were found the most of the things stolen from the whites, and these articles were, later on, returned to their respective owners.
It was a happy band that returned to Boonesborough about a week later. Those left at the fort turned out to meet those who were coming in, and a celebration was held that lasted far into the night. Mrs. Parsons was especially glad to see her daughter alive and well, and Harry was equally pleased.
“I hope we may never be separated again,” said Harry, who was doing as well as could be expected.