All needed a rest, and the wounded demanded attention. So for the time being the battle remained a drawn one.
As soon as it was made known that the Indians had retreated, a score of rangers who were unhurt were set to watch their movements, and then began the caring for the wounded. All told, it was found that six men, women and children had been killed outright and that one man was mortally hurt. Of the pioneers five were wounded, and of the rangers three, and of the killed two had been scalped.
"Dave, my son!" exclaimed James Morris, as he rushed up. "Are you safe?"
"Yes, father," was the answer. "And you?"
"I have a scratch on the leg, but it isn't much. How are the rest?"
"Uncle Joe has been shot down. I reckon the others are all right."
"Joe shot down? Is he—he"
"There he is, over by the rocks. No, he isn't dead, but I think he's pretty bad. He got an arrow right in the breast."
Father and son hurried to the spot, to find Joseph Morris stretched out on a blanket and surrounded by all of his family, including Henry, who during the advance of the rangers had fought as bravely as anyone. The arrow had been extracted and Mrs.
