Arrived at Apple River fort, twelve or fourteen miles southeast from Galena, at about noon, the express found there Capt. Clack Stone, the commandant, with only fifteen or twenty of his command with him, the others being absent on detached service. The women of the post were all out along the river, gathering berries, or else just starting for that purpose, clearly indicating that war was furthest from their thoughts. Pausing but a moment to pass the news from Galena and allow Mr. Welch to reload his musket, the express again started forward and had covered about 300 yards to the east, when Mr. Welch, who had gained about fifty yards on his companions, was suddenly fired on by a large party of Indians concealed in the high grass near a point necessary to pass on his journey. Rising instantly, they were on the point of seizing and scalping him, as he fell from his horse, shot through the thigh, when he quickly rose and fired at his assailants, some fifteen steps away. His shot was ineffectual, his horse fled, and he would surely have perished had not his companions rushed to his rescue and saved him. They had no loads to fire, but used their guns in a series of feints as though to shoot. The Indians dodged and cowered until the men were able to gain the fort, and there secure protection for two of the number. Mr. Dixon, in his frantic efforts to secure the safety of the wounded man, paid no attention to his own welfare, and, though he saw Kirkpatrick slip within, did not consider himself until the heavy timbered door slammed in his face, leaving him to face the Indians, who by this time were upon him in overwhelming numbers. Dixon was a redoubtable man and full of the resources needed in a new country, and without an instant’s loss he mounted, wheeled, and made for the timber, whose hidden paths he thoroughly knew. The Indians must have been more intent upon the scalps of the little garrison and plunder of the many substantial homes of the neighborhood than Dixon, for they quickly abandoned him altogether, but he, on reaching the house of Mr. John McDonald, where he expected certain relief and safety, found it filled with Indians and himself surrounded. Abandoning his horse, he fled to the rear, followed the margin of Apple River, under cover of its high bank, and, after traveling all night, reached Galena in the morning, painfully bruised and exhausted, but not so tired as to prevent his wish and determination to return to the rescue of his friends. The shots by the Indians warned all of approaching danger and gave them time to leave the berries and the river and gain the fort, but no sooner were they all safely “forted” than the Indians, who had been massing from all points of the compass to the number of at least 200, surrounded it and hurled against the fort a terrific fire. Providentially, a wagonload of meat and lead from Galena had been unloaded that very forenoon, which put the garrison in a tolerable state to sustain a siege.