Early in November, 1813, Jackson built a fort at Ten Islands, on the north shore of the Coosa River, and many refugees came within its stockades. It was called Fort Strother, after the owner of the place on which it stood. On the 7th of the month an Indian runner arrived with bad news from the friendly town of Talladega, where a small fort had been built. One hundred and fifty peaceable Creeks were besieged by more than a thousand Red Sticks and their allies. The latter had given the fort three days to surrender, and relied on thirst and hunger to bring their intended victims to terms. The runner who came to Jackson is said to have disguised himself as a hog, in order to escape in the woods near-by. Jackson resolved to save the friendly Indians at any risk. Their faithfulness could not be unrewarded. They had refused all attempts to turn their allegiance, and when the enemy tried to induce them to help whip Jackson’s army and secure the booty that might be expected, they were repulsed with scorn. Just after midnight Jackson began crossing the river with two thousand men, of whom eight hundred were mounted. He relied upon the arrival of General White, with his men, to protect Fort Strother. It was sun-up of the 8th when the little army came in sight of Talladega, and deployed to right and left, for the purpose of surrounding the hostile Creeks. Only through the bravery of the beleaguered Indians were the companies under Major Russell and Captain Evans saved from an ambush. As they drew near to the fort, the friendly Indians within shouted in welcome: “How do, brother? How do?” This they kept up till Major Russell had passed the fort and was headed for the brush-covered creek behind it, where the enemy waited to surprise him. The friendly Creeks tried in vain to call him to a halt, and at last two of them leaped from the walls, ran to his horse’s head, and pointed out the danger. At once the hidden warriors fired on them, and, to quote Crockett’s description of the event, “They came forth like a cloud of Egyptian locusts, screaming as if all the young devils had been turned loose, with the old devil of all at their head. They were all painted scarlet, and were as naked as when they were born.” Leaving their horses, Russell’s men made for the fort. As the cordon of soldiers rushed to enclose them in an ever-narrowing ring of fire, the ill-fated Red Sticks fell in heaps. Many of them were armed only with bows and arrows――futile weapons, even against flintlock guns. Four hundred painted braves fell before the survivors broke through the line of drafted militia and escaped. When Davy returned that way, a year afterward, he saw the bleaching skulls scattered about like gourds upon a winter field.