But then the tide turned. Because of his own persistent efforts, those of the authorities whom he aroused, and the good will of those of his officers who had returned to the settlements, a new army was raised. By the middle of the following March some five thousand well conditioned troops were assembled at Fort Strother. During this entire time of stress and falling away, Jack Davis and Frank Lawrence clung to the cause of the general. And now that his star was once more upon the rise, they were delighted. “Any other man, almost, would have gone down under that fight and never risen again,” said Jack, admiringly. “It’ll not be long now before he gets to work again,” said Frank. “I don’t think it’ll be as easy a task as it would have been some time ago,” observed the young borderer. “The Creeks have pulled themselves together, and they are once more ready to make a fight of it.” During all this time of trouble at Fort Strother, things had not been at a standstill in the Creek country; that savage tribe had been ravaging and burning; the war-whoop had been heard in many a little hamlet, and the tomahawks and scalping knife had made their presence felt. But the white man had not done much in return. Floyd and a body of Georgia militia had marched against the Indian towns on the lower Tallapoosa. At a place called Autosee, in November, he attacked the redskins and drove them from the field, slaying some two hundred of their warriors. However, though much was expected of him, Floyd did little more. An expedition up the Alabama River under General Claiborne was a failure. From then on it was seen that if the Creeks were subdued it would be Jackson’s force that would do it. But while the renewing of his army was in progress, Jackson had not altogether closed his work against the hostiles. He was not the man to pause, even though he had but soldiers enough to man his few pieces of artillery. But by the early part of January, 1814, he had a strong body of men at Fort Strother; though more were on their way, he felt that he need not wait for them. About eighty miles south of his position on the Coosa River was a fortified camp of Creeks, a place called Tohopeka. At this place the savages were assembling in great numbers; the scouts from Fort Strother had been watching them for some time and keeping the general closely in touch with what was happening there. One night Jack Davis and Frank Lawrence arrived at the fort, their horses in a lather of foam. At once they went to the commander’s tent and were admitted. The general was seated at his table going over a map he had made of the region, and he looked up as the boys entered. “Well,” said he, “what is there to report?” “We’ve been scouting in the neighborhood of Tohopeka for the last week,” said Jack. “And things have reached such a state we thought it best to come in at once.” “Hah!” The deep-set eyes of the general began to glow. “So the Indians are still gathering?”