ahead he lay in ambush until the Indians were close up.  He then fired, killing the leader, whereat the others fled in terror, leaving the woman and child.  In the confusion, however, the captive squaw also escaped and succeeded in joining the fleeing savages, to whom she told the small number and woful plight of their assailants; and they at once turned to pursue them.  Brady, however, had made good use of the time gained, and was in full flight with his two rescued prisoners; and before he was overtaken he encountered a party of whites who were themselves following the trail of the marauders.  He at once turned and in company with them hurried after the Indians; but the latter were wary, and, seeing the danger, scattered and vanished in the gloomy woodland.  The mother and child, thus rescued from a fearful fate, reached home in safety.  The letter containing the account of this deed continues:  “This young officer, Captain Brady, has great merit as a partizan in the woods.  He has had the address to surprise and beat the Indians three different times since I came to the Department—­he is brave, vigilant, and successful.” [Footnote:  Draper MSS.  Alex.  Fowler to Edward Hand, Pittsburgh, July 22, 1780.]

For a dozen years after the close of the Revolution Brady continued to be a tower of strength to the frontier settlers of Pennsylvania and Virginia.  At the head of his rangers he harassed the Indians greatly, interfering with and assailing their war parties, and raiding on their villages and home camps.  Like his foes he warred by ambush and surprise.  Among the many daring backwoodsmen who were his followers and companions the traditions pay particular heed to one Phouts, “a stout, thick Dutchman of uncommon strength and activity.”

In spite of the counter strokes of the wild wood-rangers, the Indian ravages speedily wrapped the frontier in fire and blood.  In such a war the small parties were really the most dangerous, and in the aggregate caused most damage.  It is less of a paradox than it seems, to say that one reason why the Indians were so formidable in warfare was because they were so few in numbers.  Had they been more numerous they would perforce have been tillers of the soil, and it would have been far easier for the whites to get at them.  They were able to wage a war so protracted and murderous, only because of their extreme elusiveness.  There was little chance to deliver a telling blow at enemies who had hardly anything of value to destroy, who were so comparatively few in number that they could subsist year in and year out on game, and whose mode of life rendered them as active, stealthy, cautious, and ferocious as so many beasts of prey.

    Ravages in Kentucky.