The retreating force still fell back slowly, firing steadily by the flashes at the pursuing foe.
Henry Ware had not gone more than fifty yards before he was completely hidden from his friends.

Then he turned to a savage, at least in appearance.

He threw off the raccoon-skin cap and hunting shirt, drew up his hair in the scalp lock, tying it there with a piece of fringe from his discarded hunting shirt, and then turned off at an angle into the woods.

Presently he beheld the dark figures of the Shawnees, springing from tree to tree or bent low in the undergrowth, but all following eagerly.

When he saw them he too bent over and fired toward his own comrades, then he whirled again to the right, and sprang about as if he were seeking another target.