By the time Cousin and I passed the lower end of the marsh small bodies of Indians were making for the hills along Crooked Creek; others were following down the Ohio inside the timber, while their scouts raced recklessly after us to locate our line of battle. The scouts soon discovered that our army was nowhere to be seen. Runners were instantly sent back to inform Cornstalk he was missing a golden opportunity by not attacking at once.
Mooney was the first to reach Colonel Lewis, who was seated on a log in his shirt-sleeves, smoking his pipe. Mooney shouted:
“More’n four acres covered with Injuns at Old Town Creek!”
Rising, but with no show of haste, Lewis called to Cousin and me: “What about this?”
“An attack in force, sir, I believe,” I panted.
He glanced at Cousin, who nodded and then ducked away.
“I think you are mistaken,” the colonel coldly remarked. “It must be a big scouting-party.” I tried to tell him what Cousin and I had seen and heard. But he ignored me and ordered the drums to beat To Arms. But already the border men were turning out and diving behind logs and rocks even while the sleep still blurred their eyes.
Colonel Lewis ordered two columns of one hundred and fifty men each to march forward and test the strength of the enemy. The colonel’s brother Charles led the Augusta line to the right. Colonel William Fleming commanded the left—Botetourt men. The two columns were about two hundred yards apart, and their brisk and businesslike advance did the heart good to behold.
No one as yet except the hunters and Cousin and I realized the three hundred men were being sent against the full force of the Ohio Indians. Colonel Lewis resumed his seat and continued smoking.
“You’re nervous, Morris. It can’t be more than a large scouting-party, or they’d have chased you in.”