(73) WHILE the chief was talking with the whites the others scattered out, and, slipping quickly behind the brush, forded the river. The chief was told to bring them back. This he agreed to do, and started very deliberately to the other side of the river, not trying to keep out of sight as the others had done. The opposite bank was five or six feet high and quite steep. On reaching the other side he shook the water from his leggins, climbed the bank, faced the whites, and, stooping forward, made ready to fire.

     All the Indians began at once to jump from side to side so as to make it more difficult for the whites to hit them if they should fire. Just then Rollins called out, "Halt I Halt I" The Indians, not regarding the command or not understanding it, continued to jump from side to side and immediately fired on the whites. Several of the whites at once returned the fire, two or three firing at the chief. The chief fell forward on his face, his head lying near the edge of the high bank. This was the one who held up three fingers, saying he was good for three white men. The Indians then retreated a few rods, turned, and charged up to the bank, giving the war-whoop and shooting their arrows. Again they retreated and again charged up to the bank. Before the first charge the whites had found cover behind the trees and wagons, or their loss would no doubt have been very serious. The Indians made a mistake when they charged. At least three of them fell from the return fire of the whites, one on the bank and at least two farther back, and some of the others were (74) wounded. Belmer and Leach were hunting for a deer they had wounded when they heard the firing and the war-whoop of the Indians. They were on low, swampy ground covered with willow brush and tall grass, and could see nothing, but could distinctly hear the noise of the fight. They came out on the run, and as soon as they reached higher ground could plainly see the Indians shooting their arrows, but the whites, being lower down, could not be seen.

     The Indians soon retreated in haste, carrying with them one of the wounded, and one of them was limping badly. When back some distance from the river they dropped the wounded one in the grass and went on about a quarter of a mile to the top of a knoll, where they sat down and began singing their death song, supposing, no doubt, that their chief was killed.

     The whites suffered considerably. Crandall Hopkins was shot with an arrow through the upper muscle of the right arm while drawing an arrow from a wounded horse; S. P. Morgan was shot with an arrow in the right hand while loading his gun; John Cowin had a slight wound in one finger; Jeptha Hopkins had a fine young horse killed, having been struck both by arrows and buckshot; A. H. Palmer and Crandall Hopkins each had a horse wounded with arrows. The Indians made a mistake when they charged. Had they continued to retreat, as at first, probably only the chief would have been hurt. The whites had time to take cover, and were ready when the Indians charged back. The Indians probably expected to stampede the horses, but did not succeed.

     There was no one to command the whites; no consultation was had as to who should command in case a fight occurred. This was a mistake. They should have elected officers after all were together, before going on up the valley. Only one command was given to the whites during the fight. When Crandall Hopkins was shot, he said, "Give 'em h-ll, boys, I am shot!" The command; was obeyed. It was now beginning to be dark. The fight (75) was over, but the Indians might be only a few of a large party, and they might soon be reinforced. An election was held and Jeptha Hopkins was made captain. He gave orders to move down to the French settlement, where the wounded men and horses could be cared for, and stated that he would get reinforcements and come back next day. The party started down the valley just after dark, leaving the Indians singing their death dirge. They reached Louis Contois' place about eleven o'clock P. M. and remained there until morning, keeping a guard out during the night. The settlers all followed down to Contois' place and remained through the night. Of course the settlers were badly frightened, the women and children crying and not daring to go to bed for fear of an attack. There was good reason for this. These settlers in Frenchtown had not forgotten their experiences with the Indians the previous February. All the men who were not wounded were ready to go back up the river the next day, and Bernard Whitwer and Pat Ford, who were there, were ready to join them. But the French settlers were unwilling to take the risk, and declined to furnish horses, fearing they would lose them. It was therefore decided to come on down the valley and arrange a meeting for the next day to organize a military company to protect the settlements.

     On the next day, therefore, a meeting was held and a company organized, twenty-six men joining the company the first day, and in a very few days nearly every able-bodied man in the settlements had enrolled his name. The company, which was named the Elkhorn Guards, was constituted as follows:

     In this fight the Indians did much greater execution with their bows and arrows than with their guns. Only one gunshot took effect, the one that struck the horse that was killed. After discharging their guns they did not reload, but began immediately to shoot arrows. This they could do as rapidly as one can fire a Winchester magazine rifle, and the arrows flew very thickly for a little while.

     The white men's version of this fight has been given; it will now be only fair to give the Indians' version. Frank Cottle, one of those participating in the fight, afterward went to South Dakota and located near the Brule reservation, where he engaged in trade, a part of his business being with the Indians. He became acquainted there with some of the Indians who were on this raid. They claimed that none of their number were killed, but admitted that several were wounded. The horse the whites supposed was dead (77) was only badly wounded. They went back to where the fight occurred after the whites had gone, and finding the horse still alive and able to travel, they took him along with them, and he finally recovered. The wounded Indians also all got well.

     A few months after this fight occurred Jeptha Hopkins, Ben Trueblood, and Allen Hopkins took a trip to the place and looked over the battle-field. They found a great many arrows on the ground held by the whites during the fight, every one of which was broken in two. They also found a bundle of sticks, eleven in number, one large one, nearly an inch in diameter, the others considerably smaller. These were about eighteen inches long, each one painted red and blue in spiral stripes, and to each one was tied a little sack filled with tobacco and kinnikinick, and all were bound together with strings. On the side of the river where the Indians were when the fight occurred, there were nine sods of turf turned over. Where the chief fell the sod was a large one, about a foot square; the other eight were smaller and farther back from the bank.

     What these things signified is not known. It is strange that they should have come back and have broken all the arrows that they had discharged that could be found, but it probably was in compliance with some superstition. They found no Indians fastened in the trees, as was the Sioux custom of disposing of the dead, nor did they find any signs whatever of the dead horse. It is quite probable, therefore, that the Indian account is correct. The whites supposed surely that the chief, who was lying perfectly still on the edge of the bank, and in plain sight, was killed. He no doubt was badly wounded and had either swooned or was shamming death, believing that if he moved he would be killed. It was at the time supposed that it was for the chief especially that the Indians were singing the death song, and doubtless at that time they did think him dead.