The Indians never lived who could stand in the face of well-aimed cannon-shot.

They fell back.
The settlers, inspired, carried beyond themselves by the heroism of a girl, fought as they had never fought before.

Every shot went to a redskin's heart, impelled by the powder for which a brave girl had offered her life, guided by hands and arms of iron, and aimed by eyes as fixed and stern as Fate, every bullet shed the life-blood of a warrior.
Slowly and sullenly the red men gave way before that fire.

Foot by foot they retired.

Girty was seen no more.