back. On the extreme right of the 31st Regiment, about the same time, ensign Houston scaled the breastworks, and called to his brave fellow-soldiers to follow him, as cutting his way he leaped down among the Indians. A barbed arrow struck deep into his thigh while he was scaling the breastworks or soon after he reached the ground. He maintained his position till his lieutenant and men were alongside of him, and the Creeks were recoiling under the terrible onset. After vainly trying to extract the arrow from his side, he called to his lieutenant to make the attempt. The officer failing after two attempts, Houston still holding command with sword uplifted over his head, told the officer to try again, and if he failed, he would smite him down. A desperate effort was made, the arrow was drawn forth, and a stream of blood rushed from the torn flesh. The young hero crossed the breastworks that his wounds might be dressed. The wound was bound up by the surgeon and the blood stanched. Gen. Jackson came to see who were wounded, and observing the young ensign among the number, firmly ordered him not to return to the contest. He begged the General to let him return to his men. The General gave him positive orders not to cross the breastworks again. Houston was determined to win a hero's name in that battle, or die in the contest. He had enlisted in the recruiting ranks, and marched through the streets of the village where his mother and friends resided. The finger of scorn had been pointed at him. To his scoffers he had said, " And what have your craven souls to say about the ranks? Go to with your stuff; I would much sooner honor the ranks than disgrace an appointment. You don't know me, but you shall hear of me." His mother did not desert him then, but handing her boy the musket, had said to him: "There, my son, take this musket and never disgrace it; for remember, I had rather all my sons should fill one honorable grave, than that one of them should turn his back to save his life. Go, and remember, too, that while the door of my cottage is open to brave men, it is eternally shut to cowards." All this young Sam Houston remembered, and dashing once more over the breastworks, he was soon again at the head of his men.
The battle raged fiercely. Over two thousand were contending hand-to-hand. The action was general. The yells of the Indian savages, and the groans of the dying rang throughout the peninsula, while arrows, spears, and balls flew, and swords and tomahawks gleamed in the sun. Some months before, all the villages of the Creek Indians had been visited by a brother of Tecumseh; he had stirred up the passions of these thousand chosen Creek warriors for blood and revenge, and had announced to the Indian prophets, that the Great Spirit had commanded him to go on this occasion; to as-
