It was two days after the event that an infantry soldier of Major Dade's command, appeared at Fort King, on Tampa Bay, from which it had marched six days before, and gave information of what had happened. The command was on the march, in open pine woods, tall grass all around, and a swamp on the left flank. The grass concealed a treacherous ambuscade. The advanced guard had passed, and was cut off. Both the advance and the main body were attacked at the same moment, but divided from each other. A circle of fire enclosed each--fire from an invisible foe. To stand, was to be shot down: to advance was to charge upon concealed rifles. But it was the only course--was bravely adopted--and many savages thus sprung from their coverts, were killed. The officers, courageously exposing themselves, were rapidly shot--Major Dade early in the action. At the end of an hour successive charges had roused the savages from the grass, (which seemed to be alive with their naked and painted bodies, yelling and leaping,) and driven beyond the range of shot. But the command was too much weakened for a further operation. The wounded were too numerous to be carried along: too precious to be left behind to be massacred. The battle ground was maintained, and a small band had conquered respite from attack: but to advance or retreat was equally impossible. The only resource was to build a small pen of pine logs, cut from the forest, collect the wounded and the survivors into it, as into a little fort, and repulse the assailants as long as possible. This was done till near sunset--the action having began at ten in the morning. By that time every officer was dead but one, and he desperately wounded, and helpless on the ground. Only two men remained without wounds, and they red with the blood of others, spirted upon them, or stained in helping the helpless. The little pen was filled with the dead and the dying. The firing ceased. The expiring lieutenant told the survivors he could do no more for them, and gave them leave to save themselves as they could. They asked his advice. He gave it to them; and to that advice we are indebted for the only report of that bloody day's work. He advised them all to lay down among the dead--to remain still--and take their chance of being considered dead. This advice was followed. All became still, prostrate and motionless; and the savages, slowly and cautiously approaching, were a long time before they would venture within the ghastly pen, where danger might still lurk under apparent death. A squad of about forty negroes--fugitives from the Southern States, more savage than the savage--were the first to enter. They came in with knives and hatchets, cutting throats and splitting skulls wherever they saw a sign of life. To make sure of skipping no one alive, all were pulled and handled, punched and kicked; and a groan or movement, an opening of the eye, or even the involuntary contraction of a muscle, was an invitation