A number of the settlers had received friendly warning and were expecting the attack, some having made as many as three removals from their claims, each time approaching nearer to the fort. Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny forsook their cabin in the wilderness and spent an anxious night at the home of W. N. Bell, which was a mile or more from the settlement, and the following day moved in to occupy a house near A. A. Denny's, where the Frye block now stands. From thence they moved again to a little frame house near the fort. Yoke-Yakeman, an Indian who had worked for A. A. Denny and was nicknamed "Denny Jim," played an important part as a spy in a council of the hostiles and gave the warning to Captain Gansevoort of the Decatur of the impending battle. Mr. and Mrs. Blaine, the pioneer M. E. minister, and his wife, who was the first school teacher of Seattle, went on board the man-of-war on the 22nd of January, 1856, with their infant son, from their home situated where the Boston Block now stands. On the morning of the 26th, while not yet arisen, she was urging her husband to get a boat so that she might go ashore; he demurred, parleying, with his hand upon the doorknob. Just then they heard the following dialogue: Mr. H. L. Yesler (who had come aboard in some haste): "Captain, a klootchman says there are lots of Indians back of Tom Pepper's house." Captain Gansevoort (who was lying in his berth): "John bring me my boots." H. L. Yesler: "Never mind Captain, just send the lieutenant with the howitzer." Captain G.: "No sir! Where my men go, I go too John bring me my boots." And thus the ball opened; a shell was dropped in the neighborhood of "Tom Pepper's house" with the effect to arouse the whole horde of savages, perhaps a thousand, gathered in the woods back of the town. Unearthly yells of Indians and brisk firing of musketry followed; the battle raged until noon, when there was a lull. A volume of personal experiences might be written, but I will give here but a few incidents. To a number of the settlers who were about breakfasting, it was a time of breathless terror; they must flee for their lives to the fort. The bullets from unseen foes whistled over their heads and the distance traversed to the fort was the longest journey of their lives. It was remembered afterward that some very amusing things took place in the midst of fright and flight. One man, rising late and not fully attired, donned his wife's red flannel petticoat instead of the bifurcated garment that usually graced his limbs. The "pants" were not handy and the petticoat was put on in a trice.