The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1849-11-08

>Ou. she tltIukS tndt we Will De SCdlpeO
before night, because the handsome Major
Montgomery left us this morning. cried
one of the maidens laughing. Lucy's oval
face colored with sweeter crimson than
ever olushed on the cheek of an evening
cloud.
No. that is not it, said merry mad
romp, arching pair of pretty black eye
brows into comical expression. 'She is
afraid her old beau, Sultan Weatherford,
| will pay her another visit, and she objects
to being made the light of the harem.'
Lucy turned deadly pale at this sally of
wit; but she darkened the smile playing
round the circle, by suddenly addressing
the officer, in tones so solemn that they
seemed like an unearthly warning. What
said General Claiborn when he parted with
Major Beasly"
TO respect an enemy, and prepare to
meet him, as the only method to ensure
success answered the officer.
Then look at yonder open gate, and
those little children running outside of the
| fort exclaimed the young girl with
slight shudder. is that preparation to
meet an enemy!'
'My spies came in not an hour ago, and
assured me that there are no Greeks with
III fifty miles, replied the commander con-
! fidently.
'Oh! then. you do not know the won
derful art of Weatherford, and we shall all
perish!' sighed Lucy Dean, in voice Of
despair.
Just at that moment a small boy rushed
into the room with looks of wonder depict
ed on his countenance crying out eagerly
-'Oh! sister Lucy, you can't guess what
| saw In the cane near the river
| 'What did you see, my son?' enquired
Major Beasly, smoothing the golden locks
of the child.
Il saw negro with straight hair, and
his face all over stained with poke-berres,
and he had feathers in his head like
| bird
'Indians!' shouted Beasily, leaping out
of the door.
Indians! Indians!' screamed the women,
gathering their children, and flying wildly
! to their blockhouses.
.Indians! resounded from all parts of
the fort, as the aroused soldiers grasped
their guns.
But the alarm came too late. Two hun
dred painted warriors, headed by the bar
barously brave Weatherford in person al
ready occupied the large gate, which was
literally bristling with British bayonets,
supplied by the internal fellon Elliot, by
the order of his court-a court ever devoid
of humanity as the demoniac ministry of
Lucifer himself.
A tremendous contest ensued. The
Americans animated by the example of
Major Beasley, strove to push their enc
mics from the gate. The Creeks inspired
to frenzy by the trumpet-tongue of Wealth
erord, struggled TO maintain their ground.
The weapons employed by the front ranks
OF combatants were swords, knives, toma-
hawks, and bayonets. Those behind, who
could not get within striking distance, on
account OF the throng fighting before them,
resorted to the rifle and musket. After fif-
teen minutes frighttul slaughter, the savages
entered the fort, not till every officer of the
garrison was dead, and all the soldiers
slain or MORALLY wounded. One might
have supposed the triumph of the Indians
complete. No doubt they thought SO
themselves, as they raised a wild and deaf
enng yell of infuriate Joy. But hundred
more were destined to bite the dust ere
the evening sun should gid the green pine
tops Of the western woods. They had
murdered all the heroes. What them
They had that day to learn, if they knew
it not previously, that despair could always
mould heroines out Of American women
as well as men. Suddenly the majestic
form of the great chief Weatherford trem-
bled. He heard the voice of Lucy Dean
giving orders and encouraging the females
in the block-houses to resist to the last ex-
tremity. Immediately every angle of the
fort roared with exploding rifles, touched
off by the hands Of the wives and sisters
of the slain; and fifty Indians fell to riso no
more.
A conflict, still more terrible than the
first followed, which was finally terminated
when the enemy fired the strongholds,
and, with single exception, all the wo-
men and children perished in the flames.
'Come down, Lucy, you shall not be
hermed: Oh! come down., cried the chief
of the Greeks, imploringly, as he saw the
red blaze mounting over the house where
he had distinguished her voice. But his
words were drowned in the shouts of his
own Indians, and in the shrieks of moth
ers and their babes, burning away in the
agonies of the most torturing Of all deaths.
Five thousand dollars,' exclaimed the
frantic chief, to the man who breaks open
the iron-bound door! and soon the shutter
started from its hinges, beneath a hail of