They were now safe, for deep darkness had fallen, and their enemies feared to pursue them. Cochran recovered during the night, but diligent search failed to ascertain anything as to the fate of Dunlap; and, warned by the signal smokes of the enemy, the trio started early next morning for the nearest block-house east of the Ocmulgee.
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.
Fate of Our Heroes.
The boy, Ben Fitzpatrick, grew up to manhood in company with his friend, Watson. Subsequently he removed to Montgomery, Ala., where he died a short time since. His career in his adopted State was an honored one, he having served in both branches of the National Congress and as Governor of the State. Governor Fitzpatrick was a cousin of Mrs. Cynthia Varner, of Indian Spring. After the Indians were removed from this section, Douglas Watson settled in Monroe County, where he resided until his decease, which occurred a few years ago. Of the career of Cochran we have been unable to obtain any data.
The foregoing history of the discovery of Indian Spring by the whites is not all fiction. It is an "o'er true tale." "Duggie" Watson, the hero of the foregoing pages—he who feared the smell of gunpowder when he first looked upon the halfhidden spring, and fled—has often repeated the history as we have given it in our hearing.