For some time following the battle of Tohopeka, the warriors came in and surrendered to Jackson. None of them seemed to know anything of Weatherford, for he had not shown himself since the fatal contest. Determined not to be forcibly taken, Weatherford resolved on going voluntarily to the camp of Jackson, make a plea for the women and children, and then surrender, to be dealt with as the American commander might desire.

Issuing from his solitary retreat in the hills, he mounted his fine gray, with his rifle well loaded, and turned toward the American camp. On his way, a large deer came within rifle range, which he shot, strapped it behind his saddle, reloaded his rifle, and proceeded to the camp of Jackson. His full purpose was to present himself as a prisoner, and to demand proper treatment, which if denied him, he intended to kill Jackson on the spot, and boldly take the consequences. Reaching the outposts, he politely asked the way to the tent of the commander, when the pickets chided him, without knowing who he was, and gave him no satisfaction. A gray-haired civilian being near, kindly pointed out the tent of General Jackson, who was sitting just within it, talking to some of his officers. As Weatherford rode up, Jackson spied him, but a few yards away, and rising from the camp-chair greeted him with, “Well, Bill Weatherford, we’ve got you at last!” This was followed by some abusive language to which Weatherford made no reply till he had finished, when he said: “I am not afraid of you, General Jackson. I am a Creek warrior, and fear no man. I am not here to be insulted, and if you undertake that, I shall put a bullet through your heart. You can’t awe me, but I wish to say some things, and when I am done, you may do with me what you please, but these things you shall hear. I have come voluntarily to surrender, and you shall not insult me, sir, till I am through speaking.” Jackson’s eyes were flashing in anger while Weatherford spoke coolly, as he sat on his horse. Meanwhile a large crowd gathered about the scene.

Continuing, Weatherford said: “It is plain that I can no longer fight you. If I could, I would. It is not fear that leads me to surrender, but necessity. My brave warriors are dead, and their war-whoop is silent. Could I recall them, I should fight you to the last. I come to ask nothing for myself. I am now your prisoner. I am indifferent about what you shall do to me, but am not about the women and children of my dead warriors. These helpless ones are now starving in the woods. Their fields and cribs have been destroyed by your people, and they are wanderers in the woods, without an ear of corn. All that I now ask is that you will send out parties and bring them in and feed them. I know that I am held responsible for the massacre of the women and children at Fort Mims, but I could not stay the fury of my warriors there, though I sought to do so. However, take what view you please of that, I am no longer concerned about myself. I am done fighting, but these helpless women and children in the woods are my chief concern. They never did you any harm, but I did all I could, and only the lack of men prevents me from continuing the struggle. I have done my best. Would have done more if I could. I am now in your hands, and if it is the wish of the white people, you may kill me.”

The crowd, roused by his defiance, rushed about him with cries, “Kill him! Kill him!” While Weatherford bowed his head, with his rifle still in front of him, Jackson strided forward with indignation, and in a stentorian voice commanded silence, and then in severe rebuke said: “Any man who would kill as brave a man as this, would rob the dead.” The crowd was sternly ordered to disperse, and Jackson, subdued by the eloquence of the brave chief, as well as by his courage, invited him into his tent, and extended to him all the civilities due a distinguished guest. The horse was given in charge of an orderly, and the brave men sitting face to face forgot the strife of the past, and were now friends. A prolonged interview followed, in which a treaty was entered into, and the war between the red and white races was over in Alabama. Jackson arranged to provide for the women and children of the Indians, and when all was duly settled, Weatherford kindly presented to General Jackson the buck which he had shot, and they shook hands, when Weatherford mounted his horse and rode away. Jackson and not Weatherford became concerned about the safety of the other, for he knew the temper of the people and the vengeance which they bore toward Weatherford. In truth, Jackson was charmed by the spirit of the chief, and resolved on saving him from the fury of those who had suffered by reason of the Fort Mims massacre.

Weatherford now sought his home at Little River, in Monroe County, where his brothers had kindly divided their effects with him, and established him comfortably on a good plantation stocked with negro slaves. Gen. William Henry Harrison having resigned as major general in the regular army was disbanded, and the troops returned home. him. The war with the Indians being over, the Tennessee troops were mustered out of service, the army was disbanded and the troops returned home.

In the southern part of the state, the Mississippi militia was still held in organization, a large body of which was located at Fort Claiborne, on the Alabama River. This was about one year before the battle of New Orleans was fought. As this does not come within the compass of this narrative, we lose sight of General Jackson here, excepting as he will appear in the succeeding article in a new relation to Weatherford, who did not find his surroundings the most congenial in the outset of his residence at Little River. Of the hazards which menaced him in that quarter we shall see in the article next succeeding this. With the presentation of that article, Weatherford will vanish from the narrative. But that which follows, reflects the spirit which animated both Weatherford and Jackson to the end.