1763, July.] FLIGHT OF BORDERERS. 51 



inhabitants of the neighboring Tuscarora valley. 

 On entering it, they found that the enemy had 

 been there before them. Some of the houses were 

 on tire, while others were still standing, with no 

 tenants but the dead. Under the shed of a fcirmer, 

 the Indians had been feasting on the flesh of the 

 cattle they had killed, and the meat had not yet 

 grown cold. Pursuing their course, the white 

 men found the spot where several detached parties 

 of the enemy had united almost immediately before ; 

 and they boldly resolved to follow, in order to 

 ascertain what direction the marauders had taken. 

 The trail led them up a deep and woody pass of 

 the Tuscarora. Here the yell of the war-whoop 

 and the din of fire-arms suddenly greeted them, 

 and five of their number were shot down. Thirty 

 w^arriors rose from their ambuscade, and rushed 

 upon them. They gave one discharge, scattered, 

 and ran for their lives. One of them, a boy named 

 Charles Eliot, as he fled, plunging through the 

 thickets, heard an Indian tearing the boughs be- 

 hind him, in furious pursuit. He seized his pow- 

 der-horn, poured the contents at random down the 

 muzzle of his gun, threw in a bullet after them, 

 without using the ramrod, and, wheeling about, 

 discharged the piece into the breast of his pursuer. 

 He saw the Indian shrink back and roll over into 

 the bushes. He continued his flight ; but a mo- 

 ment after, a voice called his name. Turning to 

 the spot, he saw one of his comrades stretched 

 helpless upon the ground. This man had been 

 mortally wounded at the first fire, but had fled a 



