Ah, where are the soldiers that fought here of yore? The sod is upon them, they'll struggle no more, The hatchet is fallen, the red man is low; And near him reposes the arm of his foe. . . . . . . . . Sleep, soldiers of merit; sleep, gallants of yore. The hatchet is fallen, the struggle is o'er. While the fir tree is green and the wind rolls a wave, The tear drop shall brighten the turf of the brave. --From an Old Poem. The BOYS' BOOK OF INDIAN WARRIORS told of the deeds by the red Americans in defense of their lives and to keep their homes. This second book tells of the deeds by the white Americans, in defense of their lives and also to clear the way …
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