Notwithstanding his victory, Jackson prudently determined to retreat. He had gained his object; for in drawing the attention of the Indians to his own force, he had diverted it from that under Gen. Floyd. Besides, his horses had been without forage for two days, and would soon break down. He, therefore, buried the dead on the field where they had fallen; and, on the 23d, began to retrace his footsteps. Judging from the quietness of the Indians since the battle, he suspected they were lurking in ambush ahead. Remembering also what an excellent place there was for a surprise at the ford of Enotochopeo, he sent men in advance to reconnoitre, who discovered another ford some six hundred yards farther down the stream. Reaching this just at evening, he encamped there all night, and the next morning commenced crossing. He expected an attack while in the middle of the stream, and, therefore, had his rear formed in order of battle. His anticipations proved correct; for no sooner had a part of the army reached the opposite bank, than an alarm-gun was heard in the rear. In an instant, all was in commotion. The next moment, the forest resounded with the war-whoop and yells of the savages, as they came rushing on in great numbers. As they crowded on the militia, the latter, with their officers, gave way in affright, and poured pell-mell down the bank. Jackson was standing on the shore superintending the crossing of his two pieces of artillery, when his broken ranks came tumbling about him. Foremost among the fugitives was Captain Stump; and, Jackson, enraged at the shameful disorder, aimed a desperate blow at him with his sword, fully intending to cut him down. One glance of his eye revealed the whole extent of the danger. But for Gen. Carroll, who, with Capt. Quarles and twenty-five men, stood nobly at bay, beating back with their deliberate volleys the hordes of savages, the entire rear of the army would have been massacred. But, over the din and tumult, Jackson's voice rang clear and steady as a bugle-note, as he rapidly issued his orders. The gallant and intrepid Coffee, roused by the tumult, raised himself from the litter on which he lay wounded, and casting one glance on the panic, and another upon the little band that stood like a rock embedded in the farther bank, leaped to the ground, and with one bound landed in his saddle. The next moment, his shout of encouragement broke on the ears of his companions as he dashed forward to the conflict. Jackson looked up in surprise as that pale face galloped up the bank, and then his rage at the cowardice of the men gave way to the joy of the true hero when another hero moves to his side, and he shouted, "We shall whip them yet, my men! _the dead have risen, and come to aid us_." The company of artillery followed, leaving Lieutenant Armstrong and a few men to drag up the cannon. When one of the guns, at length, reached the top of the bank, the rammer and picker were nowhere to be found. A man