The sun was beaming all over this land of the wild; the birds were singing, and the sweet scent of burning birch was wafted upon the breezy air; the fish darted from their hiding places and splashed gleefully upon the calm bosom of the river; a timid deer came to the clear water for its early drink, and all seemed glad on this glorious morning.
Let us look a quarter of a mile above and we do not see these signs of peace.
Two fortified camps face each other: the renegades on the right – Osceola on the left. Presently a white man emerged from the edge of the forest; tall, dressed in buckskin and carrying an unusually long rifle. It was Pinery, the hunter. Osceola greeted him warmly.
“My white brother is just in time; we are about to make a move against yonder camp, and when a bright light and a loud report comes from the Big Rock, we will begin.”
“So ye air goin’ ter lather it to ’em, Ossy? Wall, I hope you’ll ‘ave good luck an’ it won’t be my fault if old Kill-deer don’t drap sum on ’em.” Here he paused and patted affectionately the muzzle of his rifle. As we take a close observation we notice that there are but few braves around; the fact is, they have nearly all disappeared. It is evident that even now, Osceola is closing around his enemies.
About noon there was a sound that caused every warrior to leap to his feet; a loud report comes rolling over the country from Chesaning. The chieftain gave a few orders and together they rushed for their canoes at the foot of the cliff. Almost at the same instant, loud war-whoops were heard on the opposite side; rifles cracked and bow-strings sprung; the hillside seemed to be fairly alive with the decorated and painted savages.
Down they came dodging from tree to tree, from rock to rock, sending a bullet here, and a bullet there, with deadly effect. Shako’s men greatly outnumbered them, and could yet hold their own.
The wily chieftain withdrew to the wooded hillside on his right, where he was partially protected from the hail of lead. Still Osceola and Glencoe pressed forward, continually forcing the enemy deeper into the forest.
Pinery was always at the front, loading and firing “Kill-deer” with terrible precision; at close intervals the bodies of the fallen would be ; some with arrows in their breast, others with ghastly bullet wounds.
The shadows of the forest grew deeper as the day waned; the firing had nearly ceased, and no terrible war-crys startled the inmates of the woods. Both of the main parties had withdrawn, and were camped on the verge of the forest, to await the coming day, when they again continue the fight.
Osceola’s men held complete possession of the flats, and a part of the forest; the young chief was confident of final victory.
The night passes without any hostility of either side, but at dawn the contending forces again took their stand.
About noon, Shako abandoned the woods entirely, and chose a strong position in a deep ravine, flanked by thickets. Their rifles held the pursuing party in check for a time, but by a well directed charge they at length drove the enemy, who fled across the Shiawassee in utter rout.
The renegade leader had lost over two-thirds of his force, but collecting his men together, to the number of a hundred, he made his last stand in a small but very thick grove of beech.
During the preceding battle, Osceola had been slightly wounded in the foot, enough to make walking extremely difficult, so Glencoe and Pinery now took command. They crossed the river with 150 braves, and by nightfall had gained an important footing in the grove.
Shako lost all hope, many of his followers deserted him, while some few, repenting of past actions, returned to their rightful chief. Notwithstanding, the renegade determined to fight as long as he had strength to lift a rifle. He yet had a number of trusty braves, about 60, and with these he attempted to regain a part of what he had lost.
As he could not hold the grove, he again retreated to the ravine, from which he had been dislodged but a few hours before. By posting a part of his men in the thickets, and the remainder on the steep wooded side of the hill, he could yet make a stout resistance.
During the night the Indians strengthened their position as much as possible. Early next morning Glencoe began the battle on the hillside, while Pinery forced his way up the ravine.
The enemy kept up a murderous fire in the woods and Glencoe was at length forced to retreat, leaving a large number of his followers behind, either dead or wounded. Pinery was more successful: he gradually forced Shako back, and was soon in the rear of the of the victorious party above. With a well directed fire he soon captured this position and with the aid of Glenoe’s shattered band, swept all before him.
Shako’s only way of escape now lay in the direction of the river: if he could once reach his canoe and cross, they could find safety in the great forest that stretched mile after mile to the northward. In all probability if this could be done Shako would return to Canada and bring back enough of the warlike Hurons to completely vanquish Osceola. The latter realized this and gave orders to capture the renegade dead or alive. If he escaped all would be lost.
Pinery tried to cut his way through and reach the canoes first, but was driven back. Up the hill rushed Shako dodging from tree to tree, and halting at regular intervals to fire a volley at the advancing foe. At last he reached the utmost verge of the sheltered ravine, and with a loud war-whoop rushed over the hill followed by about a dozen companions. Glencoe and Pinery dashed upward at their utmost speed, but reached the top just in time to see the remains of the once powerful renegade tribe disappear around the bluff at the foot of which lay their canoes.
With a smothered oath the white hunter raised his rifle and fired. The next instant a loud cry arose from the surrounding warriors.
Shako tottered and fell backward. Kill-deer had done its work.
The old chief did not die, but was held prisoner for several years, when he was released on promise that he would never again molest the tribe.
His death occured in 1857, and his grave is yet to be seen in one of the most wild and beautiful spots on the Shiwawassee.