As proof of the singular nature of the war, a few instances may be named. While the sloop _Pilot_ was sailing up the Halifax River, it was attacked by Indians and would have been captured had the Seminoles been better marksmen. General Gaines, while marching from Tampa for the Indian country, with a large force was fired upon several times, and his losses, which were not great, included a lieutenant of United States dragoons, while the general himself was wounded. It seemed as if the end of the war was put off in more than one instance, by some incident, slight of itself, but enough to cause misunderstanding. The whites had good reason to suspect the honesty of the Indians, and the latter were equally distrustful--and it must be confessed that ground was sometimes given for such distrust--of the honor of the white men. Thus early in March, 1836, Osceola headed a party which met one of General Gaines' staff officers under a flag of truce, and sent word that he and his warriors were tired of fighting, and wished to make peace. General Gaines made the unwise answer that it mattered nothing to him whether the hostiles wanted peace or not, a large force would soon be on the ground, and every Indian taken with arms in his hands would be shot. Osceola answered this message by saying that the chiefs would hold a council and send their reply before the close of the day. General Gaines told them that if they would stop fighting, go south of the Ouithlacoochee River, and come to a council when told to do so by the United States Commissioners, no harm should befall them. Osceola agreed to this, but had hardly done so, when General Clinch, with several hundred armed men appeared near them. He had just arrived with supplies for the army, and had no other thought in mind, but Osceola believed the whole thing was a trap, and he and his warriors dashed into the woods in precipitous flight. General Scott now took command in Florida. Fighting went on all through the summer, with no real advantage to either side. The Seminoles met with several successes, but when cool weather came again, no actual gain had been made by the Americans. Congress had to grant funds to save many of the settlers from starvation. The whole country became impatient. Again and again, reports were printed that the final blow to the revolt had been given and peace was secured at last; but, hardly was this news read when it was followed by tidings of some startling success of the hostiles. If any of the readers of these pages are old enough to remember the Seminole War, they will recall those trying months and years with their "hope long deferred." In September, 1836, a hatless man dashed into Jacksonville, with the report that his home, only seven miles away, was attacked by Indians. Volunteers hurried to the relief of the besieged, who, it was found, had been able to hold off their assailants; but several neighbors had been slain and their houses burned.