" The plan of battle agreed on was to
surround the hill, hold the enemy on the top and, themselves
screened by the trees, keep pouring in their fire. There was a
good chance that most of the answering fire would go over their
heads.
As Shelby's men crossed a gap in the woods, the outposts on the
hill discovered their presence and sounded the alarm. Ferguson
sprang to horse, blowing his silver whistle to call his men to
attack. His riflemen poured fire into Shelby's contingent, but
meanwhile the frontiersmen on the other sides were creeping up,
and presently a circle of fire burst upon the hill. With fixed
bayonets, some of Ferguson's men charged down the face of the
slope, against the advancing foe, only to be shot in the back as
they charged. Still time and time again they charged; the
overhill men reeled and retreated; but always their comrades took
toll with their rifles; Ferguson's men, preparing for a mounted
charge, were shot even as they swung to their saddles. Ferguson,
with his customary indifference to danger, rode up and down in
front of his line blowing his whistle to encourage his men.
"Huzza, brave boys! The day is our own!" Thus he was heard to
shout above the triumphant war whoops of the circling foe,
surging higher and higher about the hill.
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