There was no pursuit by the Creeks, and after the first mile or so the doubly laden horses were permitted to slow down; and then the two Indians slid to the ground and ran easily at their sides, one hand upon the saddle.

A half hour brought them in sight of the spot where Jackson’s men had camped for the night; passing the sentries, they were received by their friends with surprise and enthusiasm.

“Never expected to see either of you again,” said one of the scouts. “Not many get away from the Creeks when they once fall into their hands.”

A little later the two boys rolled themselves in their blankets and went to sleep; they felt that as Jackson was so close to the Indians, the morning would see a battle. And in this they were right.

At sunrise the haggard general was abroad, issuing his commands. The troops were quickly under arms and advancing through the forest.

The force of savages besieging Talladega numbered more than a thousand. They were well armed, having many rifles and muskets supplied by the English, besides their spears, war clubs and bows and arrows. They were worked up to the proper war pitch and did not hesitate to give battle. With yells they greeted the force of frontiersmen, and plunged forward to the fight.

Andrew Jackson had studied the tactics of the Creek nation in warfare, and so had a pretty clear idea of what they would do. With a few orders, he arranged his soldiers in the form of a crescent, the horns pointed forward. His horsemen were placed upon the flanks.

“As the Creeks rush forward, as I think they will do,” said the general to Colonel Coffee, who led the cavalry, “drive forward without delay, and get behind them. Then, as we force them back, let them feel your strength.”

All being ready and the savages, their war cries sounding, filling the air with arrows, Jackson said to Jack Davis:

“Advance on foot with a score of men and engage them with rifle fire; as they advance, fall back until you get the order to stop.”

Promptly Jack passed the word to his fellow scouts. They dismounted and went forward, flitting from tree to tree as they went, firing sharply and making a great pretense of eagerness to push forward. Instantly the arrows of the Creeks rained about them; an occasional bullet clipped the twigs over their heads.

“They are great fellows to waste their ammunition,” said Jack, from behind a huge cottonwood.

THE ARROWS OF THE CREEKS RAINED ABOUT THEM

Frank Lawrence drew a bead upon a particularly active foeman and fired.

“Yes,” said he. “And seeing that it’s so hard to get in their case, you’d think they’d be more careful.”

Here the war-whoops grew shriller and the fire thicker.

“Fall back slowly,” ordered Jack.

The scouts did as directed. Eagerly, triumphantly, the redskins followed; faster and faster the little band under Jack retreated; like a bronze tide the Creeks pursued. This was exactly as Jackson had figured. Coffee’s cavalry was soon in their rear, awaiting the word.

When the party of scouts reached the main body, Jackson signaled for volley firing. Feeling the real weight of the force confronting them for the first time, the Indians retreated. To their consternation they found themselves surrounded; like their brothers at Tallushatchee they were in the center of an iron ring. Bitterly they fought, like rats in a trap, all the time beating at the ring in an effort to break through.

If it had not been for the rawness and confusion on the part of some militia, there is scarcely any doubt that General Jackson would have ended the Creek war right there. But unused to the grimness of a protracted fight the militia at one place gave way; and before they could be rallied, the savages had discovered the break made by their retreat, and poured through it in a frenzied stream.

In this way seven hundred hostiles escaped to face Old Hickory on another day in the wilderness. But even as it was, three hundred of them fell before the rifles of the Tennesseeans; and this, added to the blow dealt the Creeks at Tallushatchee, went a great way toward weakening their power.

Jackson saw the advantage he had gained, and was eager to follow it up; if he had been able to do so he would have been enabled to force the Creeks into another battle before many days and so delivered the blow which failed at Talladega.

But it was not to be so. Many things conspired to prolong the brave Tennesseean’s task. In the first place, much to his amazement, no supplies were being sent them from Fort Strother; indeed, a rider brought the news that the fort itself was almost destitute. To maintain an army in the wilderness without food is of course impossible; and so, instead of pressing forward to the victory which would have ended the war, the army was forced to retreat.

On top of this came the tidings that the brigade of troops left at Fort Strother to protect those wounded at Tallushatchee had been ordered away by the commander of another division which was also operating in the hostile country.

Jackson was never a man of mild temper; and seeing the result of all his work snatched from him in this way caused him to burst into a furious denunciation of all concerned. Raging like a baffled lion he fell back on Fort Strother. Even his friends advised him to continue his retreat to Fort Deposit on the Tennessee.

“You cannot maintain your army here,” he was told. “Go on falling back until you have accumulated enough supplies; then you can push on once more.”

But the stubborn spirit of Jackson was aroused. Weakened as he was by his wound, haggard, worn and really in a dangerous state due to his over-exertion, still he was resolved to retreat no further.

“I’ll hold my position at the Ten Islands,” declared he, “if we have to live on acorns.”

Because of this inefficiency of those who were in charge of the army’s supplies, and because of the loose nature of the terms under which his men had volunteered, General Jackson was soon plunged into a series of crises which would have broken the spirit of a less powerful man. Besides the Tennessee militia, there was a body of men in his force known as the United States volunteers; these troops, because of the lack of food, demanded to be led back to the border. There is no doubt that the army was in a wretched condition, needing not only food, but clothes and shoes as well. However, General Jackson realized that if they were allowed to have their way, the chances were against the advance ever being resumed. So without hesitation he refused to sanction the demand.

Officers and men joined together in a renewal of the petition, giving their reasons in detail. In great anger the commander again refused.

“We were sent out to subdue the hostile Creeks,” said he, sternly, “and until that is done we shall not turn our backs upon the wilderness!”

Finding him unyielding, the militia now became mutinous; they broke ranks and doggedly prepared to take the trail back to the border. But like lightning Jackson acted.

“Forward, volunteers!” he cried, drawing his sword. “We shall see who is commander here.”

The volunteers threw themselves across the path of the dissatisfied militia with ready rifles. Seeing that blood would be shed, and not desiring any such extreme action, the militia officers advised their men to give up their purpose. Sullenly the militia obeyed, and so the first of the mutinies at Fort Strother was at an end.

A little later discontent broke out once more; this time it was the volunteers, and it was the militia, now loyal to the commander, who were called upon to put the outbreak down.

Some time after the settling of this second uprising of the hungry soldiers, Jackson received word that a large store of supplies had arrived at the depot on the Tennessee. Feeling sure that they would at once be forwarded, the general said to his officers:

“Food is at hand; if it is not here in two days, I will consent to fall back.”

But in counting upon the promptness of the contractors, Jackson made a mistake. The supplies did not reach Fort Strother upon the day set; and bitterly disappointed he was forced to give the word to take the border trail. But even then he had not entirely given up.

“I remain behind if only two men will stay with me.”

Instantly a half dozen, Jack Davis and Frank Lawrence among them, stepped forward. Jackson’s deep-set eyes glowed.

“Volunteers!” he cried, sweeping the ranks with his stern gaze. “Volunteers to hold Fort Strother against the Creeks!”

In a few minutes one hundred and nine men had responded; and the army to the tap of a single drum set off for the border. It now looked as though the thing were at an end; but not so. Barely a dozen miles from the fort the returning soldiers met a large herd of cattle being driven forward. This was the meat expected by the general; delighted, the soldiers halted, killed what they required and settled themselves for a feast.

But when they had finished and had formed to resume their homeward march they were astonished to receive the command to face about and return to the fort. At once they rebelled. But General Jackson was on the ground, and at once took the situation in hand.

“Men!” he cried, one hand uplifted, “you have the food you required. In the future things will be better. Turn back. The work the border requires of you is yet to be done.”

A cry of dogged protest went up from the men; one company, in spite of its officers, started forward. With blazing eyes, Jackson rode forward, some of his followers at his side.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to turn back,” he shouted, as he rushed his horse at them. Sullenly, doggedly, muttering their anger, the company fell back upon the main body.

No move was made homeward by any of the others; but at the same time neither did they show any disposition to face about as ordered and march back to the fort. General Jackson threw himself from horse, the pain of his wounded arm forgotten; and he stalked among the rebellious troops with bent brows and blazing eyes.

“Soldiers!” he cried. “You are all men of the border. You know its dangers. In the face of the rising savage tide you swore to serve your state; like brave men you moved forward to strike a blow at the murderers of your fellow settlers. But you have had a change of heart! Why is this? Has the wilderness frightened you? Have the savages, whom you have twice beaten, broken your spirit? You have said it was lack of food which turned your thoughts homeward. Well, here is food in plenty. Be men; march back to Fort Strother in good spirits; and in one month we shall have ended the campaign.”

But the men refused; even while he was speaking, the boldest of them broke their ranks; the others followed suit; in a mass, disorganized, with no thought of anything but their own desires, they moved forward on the road home.

In a fury Jackson seized a rifle from one of them; his left arm was powerless, and he was unable to level the rifle in the usual way. So he stepped back to where his horse was standing; resting the barrel of the weapon across the animal’s neck, he covered the mutineers.

“Let any man among you make a step forward,” he shouted, fiercely, “and I will shoot him as I would a snake.”

Like a statue of wrath and command he stood for a moment—alone. Then Colonel Coffee and another officer, each armed with a rifle, leaped to his side.

“Now, then,” cried Jack Davis to his friend.

Frank answered promptly; and as they moved forward, the remainder of the scouts followed. Then some companies of volunteers, possibly ashamed of their conduct, lined themselves up behind the heroic leader. The mass of disorganized soldiers hesitated and wavered.

“Fall in!” thundered General Jackson. Automatically, the ranks were reformed. “About-face!” They turned toward the wilderness fort once more. “March!”

And away they went, their rifles on their shoulders, sullenly but steadily. The iron will of Jackson had conquered.