In two days more he reached the Ohio River above Wheeling. On account of his foot and his gun he could not swim it. No matter. He made a raft of logs tied together with vines and strips of bark, and paddled over. There he saw some horses grazing in a bottom. He must have a horse. He fashioned a halter from twisted bark, and hobbled about, trying to catch a mount. He limped and coaxed and sweated for two hours. The horses were frisky and suspicious. Every time he stalked one and was about to lay his hand upon its mane, it tossed its head and with a snort galloped away. Finally he managed to grab the worst of the lot--an old mare. On her he rode on, down to Short Creek, where he found all the settlers gathered in the little fort there, under Major Sam McColloch, expecting an attack by the Indians who had defeated Colonel Crawford's column. Other refugees from the battle-field had brought the alarming news. He was asked many questions--about Colonel Crawford, and Doctor Knight, and John Slover, and the score who were missing with them. He could tell little. All he knew, was, that he had escaped, and that he wished to get word to his mother, down in Virginia. He did not stay. He borrowed a better horse and hastened on--got as far as the cabin of his cousins, and here he had to stay and treat his foot. At first he feared that it ought to be cut off. It was a frightful looking foot, swollen and red and poisoned. However, in about ten days it grew better. He traveled down to his mother. She was in their cabin doorway, peering up the road. "Jim!" "Mother!" She welcomed him as one back from the land of the dead. News was slow, in those days. Nevertheless-- "I knew you'd come--I knew you'd come," she sobbed, gladly, as he held her in his arms. For she was a widow and he was her only boy. It was different with Mrs. Crawford and many another wife and mother. Mrs. Crawford waited day after day, for word from her husband, the gallant colonel. At last it arrived, with Doctor Knight, and all the border heard. The brave and courtly Colonel William Crawford had been tortured and burned. So had his gallant young son, John--and others. Mrs. Crawford never got over that loss. She loved her husband devotedly. Long years afterward, when she was old and wrinkled, she placed a little grandson behind her on her horse and took him far into the forest. She set him down beside a moss-covered log. "Here is where I parted with your grandfather, when he rode against the Indians," she said. And she cried and cried. CHAPTER IX THE BRAVE WOMEN OF BRYANT'S STATION (1782) AND THE DEFEAT OF THE VILLAIN GIRTY The words of John Slover, that the British army had surrendered and that the Americans were victors in the great war, were proved to be true. Now there arose much excitement among the Indians, in their towns and villages beyond the Ohio. Their British father had been laid upon his back, and they did not know exactly what to do.