At the time of the French and Indian wars, the American army was
encamped on the plains of Chippewa. Colonel St. Clair, the commander,
was a bold and meritorious officer; but there was mixed with his bravery
a large share of rashness or indiscretion. His rashness, in this case,
consisted in encamping on an open plain beside a thick wood, from which
an Indian scout could easily pick off his outposts, without being
exposed, in the least, to the fire of the sentinel.
Five nights had passed, and every night he had been surprised by the
disappearance of a sentry, who stood at a lonely post in the vicinity of
the forest. These repeated disasters had struck such a dread into the
breasts of the remaining soldiers, that no one would volunteer to take
the post, and the commander, knowing it would be throwing away their
lives, let it remain unoccupied several nights.
At length a rifleman of the Virginia corps, volunteered his services. He
was told the danger of the duty; but he laughed at the fears of his
comrades, saying he would return safe, to drink the health of his
commander in the morning. The guard marched up soon after, and he
shouldered his rifle, and fell in. He arrived at his bounds, and,
bidding his fellow-sentinels good-night, assumed the duties of his post.
The night was dark, from the thick clouds that overspread the firmament.
No star shone on the sentinel as he paced his lonely path, and naught
was heard but the mournful hoot of the owl, as she raised her nightly
wail from the withered branch of the venerable oak. At length, a low
rustling among the bushes on the right, caught his ear. He gazed long
toward the spot whence the sound seemed to proceed; but saw nothing,
save the impenetrable gloom of the thick forest which surrounded the
encampment. Then, as he marched onward, he heard the joyful cry of
"all's well," after which he seated himself upon a stump, and fell into
a reverie. While he thus sat, a savage entered the open space behind,
and, after buckling his tunic, with numerous folds, tight around his
body, drew over his head the skin of a wild boar, with the natural
appendages of those animals. Thus accoutred, he walked past the soldier,
who, seeing the object approach, quickly stood upon his guard. But a
well-known grunt eased his fears, and he suffered it to pass, it being
too dark for any one to discover the cheat. The beast, as it appeared to
be, quietly sought the thicket to the left; it was nearly out of sight,
when, through a sudden break in the clouds, the moon shone bright upon
it. The soldier then perceived the ornamented moccasin of an Indian,
and, quick as thought, prepared to fire. But, fearing lest he might be
mistaken, and thus needlessly alarm the camp, and also supposing, if he
were right, the other savages would be near at hand, he refrained, and
having a perfect knowledge of Indian subtlety and craft, quickly took
off his coat and cap, and, after hanging them on the stump where he had
reclined, secured his rifle, and softly groped his way toward the
thicket. He had barely reached it, when the whizzing of an arrow passed
his head, and told him of the danger he had escaped. Turning his eyes
toward a small spot of cleared land within the thicket, he perceived a
dozen of the same _animals_ sitting on their hind legs, instead of
feeding on the acorns, which, at this season, lay plentifully upon the
surface of the leaves; and, listening attentively, he heard them
conversing in the Iroquois tongue. The substance of their conversation
was, that, if the sentinel should not discover them, the next evening,
as soon as the moon should afford them sufficient light for their
operations, they would make an attack upon the American camp. They then
quitted their rendezvous, and soon their tall forms were lost in the
gloom of the forest. The soldier now returned to his post, and found the
arrow sunk deep in the stump, it having passed through the breast of
his coat.
He directly returned to the encampment, and desired the orderly at the
marquee to inform the commander of his wish to speak with him, having
information of importance of communicate. He was admitted, and, having
been heard, the colonel bestowed on him the vacant post of lieutenant of
the corps, and directed him to be ready, with a picket-guard, to march,
at eight o'clock in the evening, to the spot he had occupied the night
before, where he was to place his hat and coat upon the stump, and then
lie in ambush for the intruders. Accordingly, the party proceeded, and
obeyed the colonel's orders. The moon rose, but shone dimly through the
thick branches of the forest.
While the new lieutenant was waiting the result of his manoeuver, an
arrow whizzed from the same quarter as before. The mock soldier fell on
his face. A dozen subdued voices sounded from within the thicket, which
were soon followed by the sudden appearance of the Indians themselves.
They barely reached the stump, when our hero gave the order to fire, and
the whole band were stretched dead upon the plain. After stripping them
of their arms and trappings, the Americans returned to the camp.
Twelve chiefs fell at the destructive fire of the white men, and their
fall was, undoubtedly, one great cause of the French and Indian wars
with the English. The fortunate rifleman, who had originated and
conducted the ambuscade, returned from the war, at its termination, with
a competency. He was not again heard of, until the parent-country raised
her arm against the infant colonies. Then was seen, at the head of a
band of Virginia riflemen our hero as the brave and gallant
Colonel Morgan.
[Illustration: LOSS OF THE BLENDENHALL.]