Year: 1871

III tbC 1<llS VI A4oJSA NNASAesl
Greene" by George W. Greene, find the
following account Of thrilling adven'


ture of Daniel Morgan. Mr.. Greene


describes the occasion OF his receiving
wound in the old French war. The
scene was in the valley of the Shenan'
doah, not many miles from Winchester,
and the occasion an ambuscade ol


French and Indians. Morgan had


been sent with an escort Of two horse
men to carry dispatch ts the com.
mander of the garrison at Winchester.
His road lay along a narrow path
path formed by a huge precipice, known
in that region as the Hanging Rock,
which, jutting over a small stream, left
no other passage for footman or rider
but the scanty space between it and the
margin of the water-course, 1t was
the very spot for an ambuscade,
and local traditions told Of a
fierce battle which mad been
fought there by the Delawares and
Catawbas many years before. A party
of French and Indians were now lying
among the rocks which commanded
the way, peering out unseen, like tigers
on the watch Tor prey. The first to
come within their tolls were Morgan
and his unfortunate escort. How far
the associations and nature Of the spot
excited their suspicious we do not
know, for Morgan never told, and his
companions did not live TO tell. ltwas
their only path, and they rode boldly
into it. Their unseen enemy had but
to choose his moment and fire. 1t was
the work of an instant; at the first fire
the two soldiers dropped dead from
their saddles, and Morgan reeled in his
with desperate wound. A bullet had
entered the back of his neck, grazed the
neck bone, passed into his mouth near
the socket OF the jaw.bone, and knock.
ing out all the teeth on the
left side Of his face, came out
through the left cheek. The blood
gushed after it, and though he kept
his seat with an iron will, he felt that
his strength was already beginning to
fail The wound he did not doubt was
mortal; he felt that he must die but he
shrank from the thought of being mu
tilated by the scalping-knife oil his
savage foe. Some mems thoughts are
like instincts in these moments Of
supreme danger. Morgans horse, a
feet flly, had stopped short at the sud,
den alarm, standing motionless with
expanded nostrila startled eye. But
she was swift Of foot and true TO her
masters voice. That voice was gone
now; but leaning over his sadile-bow,
Morgan clasped her neck with his
gigantic arms, and as she felt the pres.
sure she started forward at the top OF
her speed. The enemy saw that he was
wounded; saw, too, that they could
not reach him with their rifles
without injuring the horse, which
they were anxious TO preserve, and
bending all their attention to secure the
other horses and the scalps, which they
valued most Of all, left him to single
warrior. In later life Morgan loved to
tell how he watched the expression OF
that Indians face as he ran with open
mouth by the horses side, looking
every moment to see his victim fall;
how doubt came over it, and then
gradual conviction that the horse was
too swift for him, and at last, how lie
urled his tomahawk with hand made
uncertain by age and exeriion, and see
ing that he had missed, turned back
with yell OF bafiled fury. Fortunately
for Morgan his horse had, with the
singular instinct Of that selfreasOning
animal, turned back toward the fort
When che reached the gate her rider
was insensible.