“Ha! foul play!” cried the chiefs in a breath; “pale-faced liars! you shall rue this treason;” and, without waiting to exchange another sentence, all three sprang off from the spot, and ran at full speed towards the covert of the woods.
We turned back within the lines of the camp, where the shots had also been heard, and interpreted as the advance of Clinch’s brigade attacking the Indian outposts in the rear. We found the troops already mustered in battle-array, and preparing to issue forth from the stockade. In a few minutes, the order was given, and the army marched forth, extending itself rapidly both right and left along the bank of the river.
As soon as the formation was complete, the line advanced. The troops were burning for revenge. Cooped up as they had been for days, half-famished, and more than half disgraced, they had now an opportunity to retrieve their honour; and were fully bent upon the punishment of the savage foe. With an army in their rear, rapidly closing upon them by an extended line—for this had been pre-arranged between the commanders—another similarly advancing upon their front, how could the Indians escape? They must fight—they would be conquered at last.
This was the expectation of all—officers and soldiers. The commander-in-chief was himself in high spirits. His strategic plan had succeeded. The enemy was surrounded—entrapped; a great victory was before him—a “harvest of laurels.”
We marched forward. We heard shots, but now only solitary or straggling. We could not hear the well-known war-cry of the Indians.
We continued to advance. The hommocks were carried by a charge, but in their shady coverts we found no enemy.
Surely they must still be before us—between our lines and those of the approaching reinforcement? Is it possible they can have retreated—escaped?
No! Yonder they are—on the other side of the meadow—just coming out from the trees. They are advancing to give us battle! Now for the charge—now—
Ha! those blue uniforms and white belts—those forage-caps and sabres—these are not Indians! It is not the enemy! They are our friends—the soldiers of Clinch’s brigade!
Fortunate it was that at that moment there was a mutual recognition, else might we have annihilated one another.