I started with my father, who took
command of a small party, and proceeded against the enemy to chastise
them for the wrongs they had heaped upon us. We met near the Merimac
and an action ensued; the Cherokees having a great advantage in point
of numbers. Early in this engagement my father was wounded in the
thigh, but succeeded in killing his enemy before he fell. Seeing that
he had fallen, I assumed command, and fought desperately until the
enemy commenced retreating before the well directed blows of our
braves. I returned to my father to administer to his necessities, but
nothing could be done for him. The medicine man said the wound was
mortal, from which he soon after died. In this battle I killed three
men and wounded several. The enemy's loss was twenty-eight and ours
seven.
I now fell heir to the great medicine bag of my forefathers, which had
belonged to my father. I took it, buried our dead, and returned with
my party, sad and sorrowful, to our village, in consequence of the
loss of my father.
Owing to this misfortune I blacked my face, fasted and prayed to the
Great Spirit for five years, during which time I remained in a civil
capacity, hunting and fishing.
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