When the first Indian was shot, Mr. Duly called to us women and children, and bade us go to a slough, not far off, which was the only place that presented itself for concealing ourselves, and that was but poor. We turned our course toward the slough, amid a shower of balls and shot. One large ball entered my heel, which caused me much pain. Mrs. Ireland’s youngest child was shot through the leg; Emma Duly through the arm, and Willie Duly in the shoulder. We soon reached the slough, and all concealed ourselves as best we could, by lying down in the tall grass. This, however, only hid us from the sight, but not from the shot and balls. For two hours, or more, we were exposed to the random shots of our merciless foe. My husband tried several times to shoot the savages, but his gun missed fire, and he was obliged to work a long time before it would go off. Meanwhile, to me, every minute seemed an hour, for I thought John could do good service with his gun, being a good marksman and having a good rifle. Several times our comrades called on him to shoot, saying, “There is an Indian! why don’t you shoot him? for my gun will not reach him.” The Indians only showed themselves one or two at a time, they would skulk behind the hills, crawl up to the top, rise up, fire on us, and drop out of sight instantly, thus proving themselves to be great cowards. The odds were fearfully against us; two hundred Indians to six white men. We felt that we were but weakly protected, and we could expect no mercy from our inhuman enemy: we all knew that death or captivity was before us, and I had no idea that any of our company would escape them. The balls fell around us like hail. I lay in the grass with my little ones gathered close around me: as it was very hot and sultry, I tried to move a little distance from them, but could not get a foot away from them, for they would follow me. Poor little dears! they did not know how much they were destined to suffer, and they seemed to think if they kept close to mother, they would be safe. I could now hear groans about me in the grass, in various directions, and Mrs. Everett told me she was shot in the neck; and in a few minutes more, I was struck by a ball in the side. I told my husband I was shot. “Are you much hurt?” he asked. “Yes, I think I shall die,” I answered, “but do not come here, for you can do me no good; stay there, for you can do more good with your rifle.” I knew he could not come without being discovered by the Indians. Another ball soon struck me on the head, lodging between the skull and the scalp, where it still remains. I could tell when a ball struck any one, by the sound. My husband then said he thought he would move a little, as the Indians had discovered his hiding-place. He removed, re-loaded his gun, and was watching for a chance to shoot, when I heard a ball strike some one. Fearing that he was the one, I called to him, saying, “John, are you hurt?” He did not answer. I