
 
 <\T\v- uunrvH i \j^ 
 
 \\tfUNIVERty
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN 
 SKETCHES 
 
 Folk Tales and Legends Collected in the 
 Mountains of Southern Pennsylvania 
 
 BY 
 
 Henry W. Shoemaker 
 
 (Author of "North Mountain Mementoes", etc.) 
 
 'Dream of the mountains, 
 As in their sleep 
 They brood on things eternal." 
 
 Altoona, Pennsylvania 
 Published by Times Tribune Company 
 
 1920 
 
 Copyright : All rights reserved.
 
 INDEX 
 
 Chapters Pages 
 
 Introduction 7- 11 
 
 I. Aunt Tilly Henry's Vision 13- 23 
 
 IT. There were Giants 24- 40 
 
 III. Love F>eyond the Grave 41- 54 
 
 IV. Conestoga 55- (5(5 
 V. The White Lady of Pomfret 
 
 Castle 67- 80 
 
 VI. The Lost Valley 81- 9(5 
 
 VII. Whippoorwill's Shoes 97-10!) 
 
 VIII. The Star of the Glen 110-120 
 
 IX. Ghosts of the Living 121-135 
 
 X. Fire for the Ghosts 13(5-147 
 
 XL The Proof of Ossian 148-1(53 
 
 XII. A Ghost Flower 164-175 
 
 XIII. The Wolf's Glen 17(5-18(5 
 
 XIV. The I51ue Girl 187-195 
 XV. The I'.lack Cat at Peter Allen's 19(5-212 
 
 XVI. The Squaw Man 213-227 
 
 XVII. Woodpecker's Mead 228-238 
 
 XVIII. The Timber Line 239-25? 
 
 XIX. The Seal]) i'tounty 258-27 1 
 
 XX. Mary Casselman, Redemptioner 272-287 
 
 XXI. The North Hastion 288-29!) 
 
 XXII. The Hunter's Moon 300-310 
 
 XXIII. The Lion's Garden 311-321 
 
 XXIV. The Man of Peace 322-332 
 
 715255
 
 Introduction 
 
 FOR some years the compiler of these pages desired 
 to complete his researches into the traditional 
 history and folk-lore of the Pennsylvania Moun- 
 tains in a series of ten volumes ; the eighth was pub- 
 lished the year before this country entered the World 
 War ; the ninth was completed in manuscript form in 
 1917, but the great conflict held up its publication until 
 the present year, and the tenth volume is only now 
 completed from the notes. The compiler's aim in this 
 series has been to comprise all the sections of the 
 State where he has made folk-lore studies, and be- 
 lieves that he has accomplished the work as far as it 
 lies in his power to do so. There are some portions of, 
 the State where he has done very little collecting 
 along the Blue Mountains of Berks, Schuylkill and 
 Lehigh Counties, for instance partly because his 
 knowledge of the "Pennsylvania Dutch" vernacular 
 was limited, but principally because the late Judge 
 Henning has done this work so admirably. As it is, 
 this ten-volume series represents pretty much all the 
 regions where folk-lore abounds, though the chapters 
 collected cannot be said to be all that could have been 
 done with the materials available. Probably better 
 stories might have been secured if more time had been 
 devoted to the quest, and it is certain that had his pen 
 been gifted with the fluency of an Irving or a Charles 
 Egbert Craddock, a more immediate reputation would 
 have been established for his labors. As it is. they are 
 tales in the rough, the recitals of plain, untutored per-
 
 sons for the most part, and the writer has not been 
 able or tried to gloss them over with the veneer of a 
 literary style and imagery. This he greatly regrets, as 
 in the previous volumes. There is one point where his 
 literary limitations have proved of service : they have 
 helped maintain the fidelity of the transcribing of the 
 stories. On several occasions he has read the legends 
 to the persons who related them to him, and they have 
 confirmed them word for word. This fidelity to the 
 original form of the stories has been maintained even 
 to preserving sordid details and unhappy endings, and 
 an entire absence of those fine moral sequels so notice- 
 able in those finest of manufactured folk-tales, "Young 
 Goodman Brown," or "Feathertop," in Hawthorne's 
 "Mosses from an Old Manse." The compiler began 
 collecting stories in the South Mountain region in the 
 spring of 1907, and the last were secured in the fall of 
 1919. Unfortunately he was not able to spend enough 
 time in the South Mountain proper, in Adams County, 
 to have collected enough material to fill the entire vol- 
 ume, but has had to include all legends originating in 
 the southern counties, the highlands of which are given 
 by some in the North the generic term of "South 
 Mountains." As many of the characters in the tales 
 connected with Fulton, Bedford or Somerset Counties 
 lived in the South Mountains proper, at one period or 
 another, they can be said to belong to that region spe- 
 cifically. The writer must state that to his regret he 
 was never once able to take a trip solely to collect folk- 
 lore ; his visits have always been on some matter of 
 business or of an official nature, and collecting tradi- 
 tional lore has been a "side issue," hence he has proba- 
 bly only pricked the surface of the field. As to the
 
 ghost stories in this and previous vdlumes, many of 
 them are in a class by themselves, having been told to 
 the writer by persons who actually saw the ghosts. 
 They have the charm of directness and truth that those 
 heard second, third or fourth-hand lose in the repeti- 
 tion. They are as near to "real" ghost stories as are 
 possible to present. Many of the chapters in this book 
 deal with events connected with the French and Indian 
 War and' the principal actors therein. This is one of 
 the most remarkable and colorful phases of Pennsyl- 
 vania history and romance, and it is not surprising that 
 so many touches of it linger among the old people all 
 along the roads from Carlisle to the west country. 
 This phase of traditional history should be more fully, 
 gone into, as there must be the plots for a score of 
 good historical novels to be had for the asking, among 
 the coves and knobs adjacent to the Lincoln Highway, 
 the grand scenic route of Pennsylvania. By leaving 
 Columbia on the east and traveling to Graeffenburg, 
 Chambersburg, Fort London, McConnellsburg, Bed- 
 ford. Stoyestown, and on to Pittsburg, practically the 
 entire country treated in this volume will be spanned. 
 Most of the sketches have been collected near to the 
 main arteries of travel, the Lincoln Highway princi- 
 pally ; but there is a rich untouched field on the byways 
 that run off from the more traveled roads. Imperfect 
 as this volume is, of which the compiler is fully aware, 
 for his powers of expression have little improved since 
 the first volume, "Pennsylvania Mountain Stories," 
 appeared thirteen years ago, it at least shows that an 
 immense fund of folk-lore exists in Southern Pennsyl- 
 vania, and is worthy of collecting. Future generations 
 and historians will use this folk-lore, and it will gild
 
 with romance many a region that commerce and man- 
 ufacturing has marred from a. purely scenic standpoint. 
 It will show that the first settlers and the Indians lived' 
 vividly, and were persons possessed of all the hopes 
 and aspirations, virtues and weaknesses that later 
 generations, with wider advantages, do not possess to 
 a greater extent. It proves that love and romance 
 outlast all other imprinted chronicles, deathless as in 
 the lines of Alan Seeger, are "the hours when we have 
 loved and heen beloved." As in the previous volume', 
 the compiler strictly calls attention to the fact that he 
 has changed the names of persons, places, dates, etc., 
 in order not to give offense to parties still living, or to 
 the relatives of those recently deceased, or for other 
 reasons best known to himself. He has all the correct 
 data in his notes, and will be pleased to reveal such 
 information, at his discretion, upon application. The 
 recent increased interest in spiritism may make the 
 true ghost stores in this volume of interest, especially 
 as some of them are of recent origin notably Chapter 
 111, which happened in 1!) 18-1 9 19. He is pleased at the 
 memories revived in the South Mountain Country, 
 which he will call from Connellsville to the mouth of 
 the Conewago, above all sections of the State where 
 he has carried on his investigations, for he found the 
 field the richest and his informants more disposed to 
 co-operate to the fullest extent. That he did not pro- 
 duce a superior volume, in point of interest, rests with 
 his pen, not with the mine of romance which he was 
 fortunate enough to touch. There are many persons 
 whom he wishes to thank for helpfulness ; about one 
 every mile or so along the Lincoln Highway, and col- 
 lectively he extends appreciation and gratitude. To
 
 Miss Ruth Hastings Gehr, gifted newspaper woman 
 of Chambersburg., he expresses his thanks for securing 
 the illustrations of the South Mountains proper, espe- 
 cially the frontispiece, showing the Conewago. the 
 fairest stream in the South Mountain region, at its 
 very best. There is also due thanks to Lester W. 
 Seylar, conservationist and historian, of McConnells- 
 burg, for supplying other most attractive illustrations 
 which reveal the beauties of the country along the 
 Lincoln Highway. He also wishes to thank editors, 
 book sellers, librarians and readers generally all over 
 his beloved Keystone Commonwealth for their gen- 
 erous recognition of his previous efforts. May the 
 years to come enshrine Pennslvania as the very foun- 
 tain-head of legendary lore, through some voice that 
 can speak in tones that all can understand and marvel 
 at. The compiler presents this the tenth attempt to 
 express the soul of these wonderful mountains, asking 
 for it no more than the same kindly reception that was 
 tendered to its predecessors. The list includes to 
 date: 1. "Pennsylvania Mountain Stories," 1907; 
 II. "More Pennsylvania Mountain Stories," 1012; III. 
 "The Indian Steps," 1!>12; IV. "Tales of the Bald 
 Eagle Mountains," 1!)12; V. "Susquehanna Legends," 
 !!>!;$; VI. "In the Seven Mountains," 1JJ13; VII. 
 "I Hack Forest Souvenirs." 1!14; VIII. "Juniata Mem- 
 ories," 1 !)!(>; IX. "North Mountain Mementoes." and 
 X. "South Mountain Sketches," both published in 
 1!)20. HENKY W. SHOEMAKER. 
 
 AI/POOXA TIMES TRIBUNE OFFICE, 
 JAXI-ARV o, 1)20.
 
 I. Aunt Tilly Henry's Vision 
 
 WE WERE waiting to make a connection on one 
 of the "weak and weary" railroads that wan- 
 der through the South Mountain region, and 
 an hour and a half had passed with no signs of the 
 expected train. Evidently the local we waited for 
 carried some bank president or local political leader, 
 as the railroaders were not always so patient and con- 
 siderate. Story-telling had been adopted by the half- 
 dozen passengers to pass away the time, after every 
 newspaper and magazine had been read and re-read. 
 Among the anecdotes related there was one told by a 
 woman which seemed to have enough of the eerie and 
 supernatural to it to make it worthy of recording. As 
 the relator was a niece of the principal characters in 
 the story, and had heard it directly from them, it was 
 of added value for the records of folk-lore. And 
 thus it ran : "Those of you who travel have all passed 
 through the little hamlet on one of the main branches 
 of the Pennsylvania Railroad called Hemlock Station. 
 Those who have traveled long enough have seen the 
 splendid patch of hemlock trees, from which the sta- 
 tion received its name, dwindle to a single, scraggy, 
 half-dead trunk, surrounded by the barkless skeletons 
 of its defunct brothers, for as the grove stood on rail- 
 way property, no one had authority to remove the trees 
 as they died, and there was no authority to plant new 
 ones. The grove seemed to summarize the glories of 
 the little community, as the handsome patch of hem- 
 
 13
 
 14 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 locks faded with the passing of the lumber business. 
 Away back in the middle eighties of the last century 
 there was no busier center along that road than Hem- 
 lock. Several large saw mills were located there, and 
 there was an active industry in shipping yellow pine 
 prop timber to the hard coal regions. There was, of 
 course, a large floating population of timber buyers, 
 jobbers, prospectors and cruisers who overflowed the 
 lumber camps, and brought a rich harvest to the two 
 hotels which stood across the tracks from the railroad 
 station. These hotels were bleak, bare structures, 
 built of unplaned and unpainted lumber, devoid of all 
 architectural features except utility, and, oh, how for- 
 bidding they looked on a rainy day, when the water 
 poured off the soggy, curled-shingle, unspouted roofs ! 
 Unlovely as they were, the surroundings of moun- 
 tains, forests, fields and streams made up for all they 
 lacked. There were always some guests, who appa- 
 rently had nothing to do but to sit on the porch and 
 steps at train time, and give a busy', populous air to 
 these flimsy hostelries. 
 
 When crews for some of the more distant lumber 
 camps arrived at Hemlock, they generally came in a 
 body and spent a night at one of the hotels, where the 
 jobbers engaged rooms in advance. Their coming 
 would give a momentary air of excitement to the little 
 station, and the jangling of the tin trunks and the 
 thud of heavy "grips" on the oaken platform, could be 
 heard a great distance. The arrival of a new gang of 
 lumbermen always attracted the native population to
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 15 
 
 the station, and few stops along the line could boast 
 of bigger crowds when the trains came in at such times. 
 
 But these were exceptional or gala clays, and' of very 
 short duration. Five minutes after the train had de- 
 parted every one had gone about his or her business, 
 and the habitual air of calm, or, more properly, of 
 desolation, pervaded the little station. There were 
 days when not more than a single passenger would 
 board or alight from the trains ; no one was surprised, 
 as there were dull times between seasons in the lumber 
 business. One of these hotels, the larger of the two, 
 was known as the Hotel Garrett, and its landlord, 
 "Uncle Dave" Henry, was as genial a boniface as ;he 
 business could boast of. He was a big, florid, jovia! 
 man, a Civil War veteran and a former woodsman, 
 very matter of .fact, who never saw a tree except to 
 mentally figure out how many feet board measure it 
 contained. He was not troubling himself about signs 
 and tokens and dreams, vagaries which seemed to 
 linger on from former generations in some of the 
 mountain folks even his wife. "Uncle Dave's" wife 
 was given to seeing ghosts, often dreamed straight, 
 and sometimes her powers of divination were truly 
 marvelous an inheritance of the Celtic ancestors from 
 whom she descended. 
 
 ( )ne foggy morning in September in chestnut time 
 she informed her daughter that she had had a very 
 peculiar dream the night before ; it was so vivid that it 
 surely must be obeyed ; but how could she impress her 
 matter-of-fact husband, who was always accommodat-
 
 16 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ing, and always ready to pick up a dollar. Then she 
 proceeded to tell her story. 
 
 In the dream, she was standing at the door of the 
 hotel office, looking across the tracks ; it was after- 
 noon, and the pale, yellow leaves of the chestnut trees 
 in the yard were falling. A shrill whistle down the 
 tracks betokened the arrival of the afternoon train, 
 bound west. A passenger must be getting off, as no 
 one seemed to be waiting on the platform, and the 
 whistle meant that the train was going to stop at Hem- 
 lock. The train came in and stopped and "Aunt 
 Tilly," as the landlord's wife was called, waited until 
 the train had passed on, to see who got off, as the plat- 
 form was on the opposite side of the tracks, and she 
 could see a figure alighting. When the train had gone, 
 the lone passenger a woman was standing between 
 the two tracks, and' stood there, gaping about as if in 
 indecision. Then, with very big strides, which were 
 very tin feminine, crossed the west-bound track and 
 strode in the direction of the Hotel Garrett. 
 
 When the woman came near, it was apparent that 
 she was a very masculine-looking person, being of 
 large build, raw-boned, rather rosy cheeked, her hair 
 was cut short, and she wore a black bonnet, adorned 
 with small red beads and pink roses. Her coat and 
 skirt were ill-fitting, her hands and feet were very 
 large. Bowing politely to "Aunt Tilly," still standing 
 in the doorway, she asked if the landlord was about, 
 that she would like to see ,him on a matter of business. 
 The good landlady hunted up her husband, finding him
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 17 
 
 in the barn, for he was a great lover of horses airl 
 always kept a spirited road team, and brought him out 
 to meet the stranger. The visitor was not long in ex- 
 plaining her business. She had a brother who was 
 lying at the point of death near the head of Little 
 Miller Run, some twenty miles north of Hemlock, 
 and, as if to prove the truth of the assertion, drew put 
 of her coat pocket a crumpled piece of telegraph paper. 
 There would be no train from Jersey Shore until the 
 next morning, and she must get to him that night if 
 she would see him alive. It was a matter of life and 
 death ; surely he would drive her there she would 
 pay him well. "Uncle Dave" did not have to be urged ; 
 he said that he was always glad to accommodate, and 
 if the lady would take a seat on the porch, he would 
 have his team and buggy ready inside of ten minutes. 
 "Aunt Tilly," after having heard this part of the 
 conversation, went about her business, but the kaleido- 
 scope of the dream continued. "Uncle Dave" went 
 into the lobby, took down his overcoat and best cap 
 from a hook, then went over to the safe, which stood 
 by the desk. He deftly unlatched It, and added an- 
 other hundred dollars to the heavy roll of bills which 
 he always carried. He did not notice all the while 
 that a sinister, leering face was peering through from 
 the porch, gloating over his preparations. Then he 
 went out through a door back of the bar to the stables 
 and harnessed his racy little team of bays, Lambert 
 and Knox, game little sons of the old hero of f he 
 county fair races, Lambert Knox. Putting a cigar in
 
 18 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 his mouth and cracking his whalebone whip, which 
 had his name painted on it, he drove up the alley al- 
 most on a gallop and swung around in front of the 
 hotel, pulling the little team up short. "Aunt Tilly" 
 came to the door as the stranger was climbing in, and 
 he was putting a buffalo robe over her knees. He 
 called to his wife, "I'll be back some time towards 
 morning." Then with another snap of the whip he 
 was off down the hill towards the old rope ferry. The 
 stranger seemed very affable, was interested in every- 
 thing, and was very desirous of having pointed out all 
 the local landmarks. "Old Forgy," the ferryman, the 
 same who gave his life from overwork recently while 
 relieving congestion at Lockport ferry, after the 
 dastardly burning of the historic and picturesque old 
 covered wooden bridge, cracked jokes with "Uncle 
 Dave" and his fare, and before long the opposite bank 
 had been reached and the team were racing along to- 
 wards the northern mountains. The sun had begun 
 to cast long shadows, and the air was growing chilly. 
 The sun was obscured by the mountains as they drove 
 along the dark, hilly road that skirted the waters of 
 Tiadaghton. The road led up the mountain, here and 
 there through patches of original timber, and was all 
 but obscured in darkness. The sunset came and went 
 as they drove higher into the mountain ; darkness fell ; 
 it was frigid, and steam rose from the horses' 
 backs. The stranger was asking all kinds of ques- 
 tions, which the genial "Uncle Dave" delighted to 
 answer; he was happy and comfortable, and com-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 19 
 
 pletely off his guard. It was very dark, and the road 
 was long, all was still save for the squeaking of the 
 whiffletrees and the champing of the bits. 
 
 All this while the stranger was getting ready for a 
 coup de main. Out of that same pocket where she had 
 drawn the crumpled bit of telegraph paper came a 
 bludgeon, which she passed from her left hand to her 
 right, which was over the back of the seat ; the buggy 
 gave a jolt over an uneven piece of road. It was very 
 dark. Oh, Heavens! What was that? A crushing 
 blow fell on the back of "Uncle Dave's" skull ; every- 
 thing seemed to wheel and go sideways, and he knew 
 no more. Reeling over the dashboard, he toppled 
 down among a lot of rocks piled along the side of the 
 road, and lay still. The horses started to plunge and 
 rear, but the stranger, quickly picking up the lines and 
 the whip, stopped them and alighted not a hundred 
 feet beyond the dark form lying so still by the road- 
 side. As soon as she was on the road she tossed the 
 reins back into the buggy, then cut the horses a 
 couple of times across the flanks and sent them career- 
 ing forward with the empty buggy. Then she ap- 
 proached the silent form on the pile of rocks. Stoop- 
 ing down she listened at the heart ; it \vas still. Tear- 
 ing open the overcoat like a wildcat goes for a stag's 
 heart, she began searching the pockets. The huge roll 
 of bills were all in one vest pocket. She counted it 
 out all but fifty dollars. She took five hundred and 
 left him there without further concern, even allowing 
 the gold watch and heavy chain, with its massive
 
 20 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Knight Templar fob. As she climbed' down the steep 
 face of the mountain, in the direction of the creek, she 
 muttered to herself : "They'll think his team ran 
 away and killed him, for no thief would leave fifty 
 dollars and a gold watch and chain/' 
 
 At the railroad tracks '"she" stripped off "her" fem- 
 inine attire, turned down "her" trousers, and pulled a 
 man's cap from an inside pocket. He weighted the 
 woman's suit and hat with stones and sunk them in 
 the creek. Then he sat down on a tie pile and calmly 
 waited for the coming of a north-bound freight. 
 
 So ran "Aunt Tilly's" vision. As she closed the rela- 
 tion of it she said to her daughter, with emphasis : 
 "That woman will arrive on the afternoon train today. 
 'Uncle Dave' must not be allowed to take her out at 
 any cost." The women decided to tell the story to 
 "Uncle Dave." but he only laughed until his great 
 sides shook. "There won't be any such person get off 
 the train this afternoon ; stop your fooling." "Yes, 
 but there will," insisted "Aunt Tilly," "and you shan't 
 take that devil to Little Miller Run." 
 
 Gradually the fog rolled away, and a day as clear 
 and pensive as Indian summer ensued. The pallid 
 leaves kept dropping from the gnarled old chestnut 
 trees. Groups of children were seen trooping towards 
 the woods to gather nuts, for it was on Saturday and 
 there was no school. "Aunt Tilly" Henry was stand- 
 ing by the doorway of the Hotel Garrett, just as in the 
 vision, when she heard the afternoon train whistling; 
 it was going to stop at Hemlock Station ; a passenger
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 21 
 
 must be getting off, for no one was on the platform, 
 except the agent who came out in his shirtsleeves to 
 give some messages to the engineer. The train slowed 
 down and stopped. "Aunt Tilly" could see one pas- 
 senger, apparently a woman, getting off on the oppo- 
 site side. The train moved on, and the figure stoo 1 
 between the tracks, looking about, as if uncertain as to 
 whether to go to the Hotel Garrett or the Black Horse 
 further down. She was an ungainly creature, her 
 chip bonnet was too small, her coarse black hair was 
 cut short, her suit was several sizes too large, and n?r 
 shoes were brogans such as a workingman would wear. 
 Finally, with great strides, she advanced towards the 
 Hotel Garrett. to where "Aunt Tilly" stood. Nodding 
 obsequiously she asked for the landlord, stating that 
 she had some business with him, just as in "Aunt 
 Tilly's" vision. "I don't think he is at home," said 
 "Aunt Tilly," resolutely, for she was relying on her 
 daughter, who was watching inside to keep "Uncle 
 Dave" occupied should he come through from the 
 stable before the unwelcome stranger had been dis- 
 pensed with. "I must see him," said the woman, "and 
 I'll sit down and wait until he comes." "Uncle Dave," 
 out in the stable, had practically finished blackening his 
 best harness when he heard the afternoon train come 
 in. Usually it would not have aroused his curiosity 
 very greatly, as his house was full, and his wife always 
 handled would-be guests admirably. But on this occa- 
 sion he was anxious to sally forth and explode his 
 wife's silly dream or "vision." He came through the
 
 22 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 bar into the lobby, where his daughter awaited him, 
 and she asked for some money, and began talking 
 about all manner of subjects while he counted it out. 
 He refused to be interested, and as she could not de- 
 tain him, he brushed by her, and stood in the doorway 
 back of his wife, who was arguing with the ill-favored 
 stranger. The woman seemed to recognize him in- 
 stantly. "I'm in a lot of trouble," she said. "I have a 
 brother at the point of death up on Little Miller Run. 
 There are no trains until tomorrow. I want you to 
 take me there tonight. You will be well paid." All 
 the while she was fumbling in her coat pocket, finally 
 pulling out a crumpled piece of telegraph paper. 
 
 "Of course I'll accommodate you." said "Uncle 
 Dave." "That's what I'm here for. I'll have the team 
 harnessed in ten minutes." 
 
 But here ''Aunt Tilly" interposed. "You won't do 
 anything of the kind. I know this woman, or what- 
 ever she is, and you'll not take her a step." 
 
 "But I will," expostulated "Uncle Dave," growing a 
 little hot. 
 
 "If you do, I'll harness my o\vn horse, and my 
 brother Richie and I will follow close behind you and 
 both of us will carry six-shooters." 
 
 "That's no way to talk before a lady who is in dis- 
 tress," said "Uncle Dave," in conciliatory tones ; but 
 his wife and daughter crowded about him and grad- 
 ually edged him further indoors. Out of hearing, 
 "Aunt Tilly" said :
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 23 
 
 ''Dave, you arc a fool to go against my vision, when 
 I always dream straight. Did you see that devil's feet, 
 and not be convinced she's no woman? I'll not have 
 you lying dead on the rocks above Little Miller Run." 
 
 They argued for several minutes, and "Uncle Dave," 
 more laughingly incredulous than mad, forced his way 
 back to the doorway. The stranger had gone, was 
 nowhere to be seen. "Uncle Dave" went out, followed 
 by his wife and daughter, and walked around the 
 house, looked up and down the roads and over to the 
 station, but the wierd visitant had vanished. They 
 asked the agent, the genial Billy Campbell. He had 
 seen the woman alight from the train, but had not seen 
 her since. "I believe that we have all been dreaming." 
 said "Uncle Dave," as he recovered his composure and 
 re-entered the hotel.
 
 II. There Were Giants 
 
 NOT long ago the writer received from W. B. Van 
 Ingen, the world-famous mural painter, and a 
 native Pennsylvanian, the pertinent query if in 
 any of his investigations into Pennsylvania folk-lore 
 he had found the record of giants. It was his reply 
 that in several instances giants were mentioned in our 
 history, and these, as time goes on, will be found as 
 the Titans of the mountain legends of the Keystone 
 State. In particular, t\vo Indian giants were alluded 
 to Long John, probably a Shawnee, who hardly sur- 
 vived to the nineteenth century, was very promi- 
 nent in the South Mountain region and along the Con- 
 adogwinet and lower \vaters of the Juniata, and is 
 buried at Herold's School House, Snyder County; 
 and Big John, possibly a Cayuga, and some relation to 
 the noted Indian brothers, James Logan, John Logan 
 and John Petty Shikellamy (all three sons of Chief 
 Shikellamy), and who figured in Centre County, more 
 particularly on the main chain of the Allegheny Moun- 
 tains. There is a record of his selling furs to Henry 
 Philips, the founder of Philipsburg, as late as 1790, 
 together with Big John's brother, Little John, Captain 
 Logan and Lady Logan. Big John is buried in the old 
 Presbyterian churchyard at Jacksonville (Centre 
 County). Then there was a white giant, said to be 
 eight feet tall, who lived in the South Mountains in the 
 vicinity of Mont Alto, and who is described by Walter 
 P. Taylor, a young writer, in a fine contribution to 
 
 24
 
 A Forest Path 
 Near 
 
 Graeffenburg
 
 !J, There Wen, 
 
 I 
 
 disl Jaaiol A
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 25 
 
 local folk-lore, called "The Giant." Long John was 
 seven feet tall, and the writer has laid on the grave of 
 Big John, which was at least two feet longer than the 
 scribe's five feet eight in his shoes. Both Indians rest 
 in unmarked but not unknown graves, where the grass 
 grows tall in summer and is waved by the wind, in 
 time to the melody of giant pines . if it were not for 
 the two distinct graves, and the dissimilarity of his- 
 torical events, these two collossal redmen might be- 
 come confused in history and tradition, for there is 
 always a strange mercurial coalescence of names that 
 defies the careful student of personality ; apart from 
 two persons of similar names flourishing at the same 
 time, those of the same names are associated together 
 generation after generation, through some unknown 
 affinity of nomenclature. Long John was dead and 
 gone as Big John became really a noteworthy figure, 
 but it would be better for future generations if histor- 
 ical societies would mark their graves, telling clearly 
 who they were. 
 
 The career of. Long John has been studied by Pro- 
 fessor Moyer, and he does not give the big redman a 
 very good report. He regards the giant Shawnee as a 
 renegade and spy for the scalp hunters, Peter and 
 Michael Grove and Peter Pentz, and as a thoroughly 
 mercenary character. Be that as it may, there was 
 undoubtedly a time in Long John's life when he was 
 pure of heart, and as lofty motives as could stir the 
 heart of a dweller in the forest were his, before the 
 injustices of the white men and some of his own breth-
 
 26 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ren made him feel that he did not care what happened 
 as long as he could secure enough money for liquor 
 and indulge in periodical debauches. Of course, Pro- 
 fessor Moyer may have drawn too dark a picture ; a 
 descendant of the Paxton boys can hardly overcome a 
 bias against Indians, but from the tragic occurrences 
 that marred Long John's life it may be assumed that 
 he had plenty of provocation, if one understands the 
 Indian character. 
 
 Long John lived, in his early manhood, at the In- 
 dian town at the mouth of the Conadogwinet. where 
 he was noted as a fleet runner and a skillful archer. 
 He attained the great height of seven feet when he 
 was sixteen years of age, and would probably have 
 grown taller, only his mother, becoming anxious, trav- 
 eled into the South Mountains to consult a famous 
 wise woman, who put a spell on the youth, thereby 
 stopping his growth. Instead, he began to fill out, 
 and grew into superb proportions, not too stout nor 
 too lean, but of powerful and athletic build. Owing 
 to the lack of height of many doors Jie became what 
 the mountain people call today "jukey," which detract- 
 ed somewhat from the majesty of his appearance. He 
 was a boy at the time that Black Jack, "The Wild 
 Hunter of the Juniata." unsuccessfully offered his 
 company of scouts to General Braddock, among their 
 number being John Penn. a few years later Governor 
 of Pennsylvania, who sought surcease of sorrow after 
 his enforced separation from his first wife, the 
 lowly-born Maria Cox, in the thrilling life of
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 27 
 
 the frontier. However, Long John marched with 
 Forbes and l>ouquct to Fort Duquesne in 1758, 
 that year at least being a regularly enrolled member of 
 the Colonial forces, serving with the Pennsylvania 
 Riflemen. He did not return east after the capture 
 of the fort, and was in the western country until after 
 Colonel Bouquet's expedition of 1T(U, when he accom- 
 panied that gallant leader back to Carlisle. After that 
 he became associated with the border scouts and Ran- 
 gers, and it is alleged in some capacity was connected 
 with the payments of the scalp bounty. After the 
 close of the Revolutionary War he became very friend- 
 ly with the whites, living amongst them, and was a 
 familiar figure at butchering time all through what is 
 now Snyder and Perry Counties. His keen sense of 
 humor and witty sallies made him very popular with 
 the Dutch farmers whose own brand of humor more 
 closely resembled the Jewish than any other. Inas- 
 much as the entire upper section of Berks County 
 swarmed with Jews at an early day, those who did 
 not have the blood of the chosen people in their veins 
 absorbed their attitudes of life through close associa- 
 tion. There is a patriarchal cast of countenance to 
 the Dutch farmer of Pennsylvania that is inexplicable 
 in any way except by the admixture of Jewish blood. 
 The early Jews of lierks County always believed that 
 the Indians were the lost tribe of Israel, consequently 
 felt towards them a fraternal interest that was always 
 tolerant and kindly. A gathering of Pennsylvania
 
 28 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Dutch farmers at a vendue could easily pass for some 
 gala day in a Ghetto. 
 
 Near the mouth of the Juniata a frontiersman named 
 Christian Hay settled about 1753, where he occupied 
 some abandoned Indian fields. He had previously 
 lived in York County, where he was one of a number 
 of wifeless pioneers who helped to absorb the Indian 
 colony at Turkey Bottom. His absorption consisted of 
 marrying a comely Indian girl, and when he moved to 
 the Juniata country they had already four or five 
 children. The eldest was a girl named Hester, who 
 was sixteen years of age at the time Long John con- 
 nected himself with Forbes' army. On one of his 
 hunting trips the big Indian became acquainted with 
 Hay. They were both out after buffaloes, which the 
 white man had learned to hunt in York County. It may 
 be well to note that the last bison in that section was 
 not killed until 1U>0, when Billy Patterson, known as 
 " Buffalo Bill," killed a stray buffalo near Abbotts- 
 town. After his hunt with Long John, Hay invited 
 the towering young Nimrod to take dinner at his spa- 
 cious log house. It was there that Long John first saw 
 Hester and became deeply enamored of her. As he was 
 tall, so she was short, not being over five feet one or 
 two inches in height and slimly made. Her complex- 
 ion was a brown pinkish, or dusky, her eyes a dark 
 gray, her nose somewhat aquiline, her cheekbones high, 
 her mouth very beautiful and very red. She combined 
 in her small person the best of the physical attractions 
 of both races, and was of a degree of intelligence
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 29 
 
 superior not only to her mother, but of her father, evi- 
 dently a reversion to some excellent ancestor, as the 
 name of Hay might indicate. Hester seemed to recip- 
 rocate the giant Shawnee's interest, and they spent 
 much time together, she carrying his quiver of arrows 
 when he hunted, or his spears when he gigged for eels 
 or shad. "No one can bring down more game with an 
 Incha-pile than Long John," the hardy pioneers would 
 say, as every evening he would return laden with the 
 choicest products of the forest. His skill was so un- 
 erring as to be uncanny. 
 
 It was in the very midst of this blissful period that 
 Major Agmondesham, a young Irish officer, appeared 
 on the scene with a squad of non-commissioned offi- 
 cers and orderlies, in search for recruits for the Rifle- 
 men. He had, in addition, two experienced frontiers- 
 men and expert rifle shots, Adam Moderwell and 
 Richard Dougherty, to act as liaison between the hardy 
 men of the frontier and his traveling recruiting bu- 
 reau. Major Agmondesham had been told of Long 
 John's expert skill with the rifle and made the trip to 
 Hay's Fields, as the farm was called, to endeavor to 
 enlist him. Indians were only taken as scouts or 
 advance guards, but the demeanor of this young red- 
 man was said to be so pleasing that he was considered 
 eligible for the ranks. He gave some marvelous exhi- 
 bitions with the rifle as well as the bow and lance while 
 the Major and party were quartered at Hay's Fields, 
 and it was with great regret that the Major could not 
 induce him to join up either as a soldier or a scout
 
 30 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 The truth was, he aspired to marry Hester in the fall, 
 and saw no charms in a distant campaign. Major Ag- 
 mondesham was quickly smitten by the charms of the 
 half-breed maiden. No matter how deep Long John's 
 passion was, he quickly conceived such an admiration 
 for the person and manners of the Major that he tact- 
 fully withdrew, without the officer ever suspecting that 
 the genial redman had possessed similar intentions. 
 The Major forgot about his recruiting mission, for 
 lie was only twenty-four family influence alone was 
 responsible for his high rank -and tarried to make 
 love, while the two frontiersmen, Moderwell and 
 Dougherty, were sent to range about the country to 
 enlist superior riflemen, on the promise of active ser- 
 vice, and much booty to be taken from the French. 
 The Major's attentions to Hester consisted of strolls 
 along the river, canoe rides by moonlight, as well as 
 other meetings in divers romantic spots. As this was 
 the lirst young girl he had spoken to since landing in 
 Philadelphia, his ardor from long suppression was 
 hard to control. It soon transpired to Long John, if 
 not so soon to the Major, that Hester was in love with 
 neither, but with another Major, one Hector Thrale. 
 of the Highlanders, who had been through that region 
 on a survey for a military road from Harris' Ferry 
 to the West, and going and coming had managed to 
 spend several weeks with the Hay family. It may 
 have been an imprudent thing to do, but Major Ag- 
 mondesham could no longer restrain his emotion, and 
 on one of the clearest of the moonlight nights, as they
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 31 
 
 sat on a bench overlooking the Juniata, he asked Hester 
 to marry him. The girl was greatly taken aback, and, 
 realizing that she had unintentionally led her distin- 
 guished lover on, could hardly find words to grace- 
 fully explain that she was in love with the absent 
 Highlander. Major Agmondesham had never heard of 
 this officer before, but took the situation philosophi- 
 cally ; in fact, he was relieved to be rejected, as it 
 would have been a mad-cap marriage. At the same 
 time he felt greatly depressed, and after parting from 
 Hester walked slowly along the river bank. He soon 
 saw a canoe containing Long John, who had been 
 spearing salmon by the light of the moon, and hailed 
 him, asking him to take him for a ride over the phos- 
 phorescent waters, as far as what is now Haldeman's 
 Island and back. The Indian was glad to accommo- 
 date him, and, under the influence of the unearthly 
 beauty of the scene, the sentimental Major told of his 
 evening's misadventure. The Indian's eyes blazed 
 with anger, as he listened to the recital, but he was 
 silent until the officer finished. 
 
 "I too have loved Hester, sir," he said. "I with- 
 drew when I saw you cared for her, and I did not even 
 want you to know I had admired her, so fearful was I 
 that it might detract from your high opinion of her. 
 Little did I know that the girl loved Major Thrale, of 
 the Highland Regiment, for she never mentioned him 
 to me. I know this much : he has no right to love her, 
 because he is engaged to be married to Rosamond 
 Yeates, the most beautiful girl at Lancaster. The son
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 of a , please pardon me, sir, for this language, but 
 my heart overflows. He had no right to trifle with 
 the heart of Hester Hay." 
 
 It so happened that Long John had promised to join 
 > another surveying party headed by the Highlander at 
 Harris' Ferry, but because of his interest in Major 
 Agmondesham had given up the idea and remained at 
 Hay's Fields. A sudden thought flashed through 
 his mind as he beached' the canoe on the moon-bathed 
 shore. He did not go to his lean-to of hemlock boughs, 
 but after the Major was safely indoors he re-entered 
 his canoe and pointed for the Susquehanna, and 
 down stream. He was at the Indian camp, across the 
 river from the Ferry, early the next morning, and 
 making inquiries of his friends. Some of his com- 
 panions had gone down the river to convoy Major 
 Thrale, who was to be the guest of John Harris and 
 his family that night, and would probably start on his 
 trip to locate another proposed' military road the next 
 morning, this one to cross the Kittochtinny Mountains 
 near Carlisle. Long John re-entered his canoe and 
 rapidly traveled up stream, gradually veering to the 
 east bank, ran ashore under the hanging branches of 
 some giant red birches near Esthertown. Meanwhile, 
 Major Agmondesham had passed a sleepless night; 
 fate had been kind in extricating him from an impos- 
 sible alliance, he realized, yet he hated the thought of 
 two worthy women deceived the Lancaster belle and 
 the half-breed beauty. He would have left Hay's 
 Fields in the morning only he had promised Hester to
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 33 
 
 accompany her to a ball at Peter Allen's Trading 
 House across the river ; she had never attended 
 one of these exclusive functions in the big stone 
 structure, and it was his delight to invite her. 
 He had planned to make known his love in the 
 canoe on the way back from the ball, where he knew 
 that Hester would be the reigning belle, but now 
 all was changed, and it might be a most embarrassing 
 evening. He therefore invited her mother, who \vas a 
 very young-looking and handsome woman, to accom- 
 pany them, as presumably she knew nothing of the 
 previous evening's unpleasantness. They attended the 
 ball, where Hester and her mother were much admired 
 and where they mingled with the elite of the frontier 
 people. Among those present was the beautiful Maria 
 Cox, the erstwhile wife of John Penn, who had fol- 
 lowed him to America, only to be again cast adrift 
 through the machinations of his aristocratic relatives. 
 Everything passed off smoothly and without untoward 
 incident. Several days later Major Agmondesham 
 and his party resumed their journey in the direction 
 of Pom fret Castle. 
 
 Long John, during his canoe trip, had looked fre- 
 quently to make sure that Major Thrale had not ar- 
 rived, and he now walked along the beach, skulking 
 behind trees and vines, but still keeping a short lookout 
 down stream. There was a great red birch, hollow at 
 the fork, into which he climbed, and with his swarthy 
 head about the same brown color as the bark, the only 
 part of him visible much like a huddled owl, he
 
 34 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 watched patiently all day long, far into the long July 
 evening. Just at sunset the convoy of canoes appeared 
 in sight. There were thirteen boats in this miniature 
 fleet. They stopped at the landing in front of Harris' 
 stockade, the elegant Major in his scarlet regimentals 
 being the first to step ashore. Here he was warmly 
 greeted by the famous trader and his wife, and es- 
 corted to the great log house. Long John knew that 
 the hour of fate was approaching. He climbed out of 
 the old tree, and, like one of the long shadows re- 
 leased by evening, stealthily made his way along the 
 beach. It was dark when he came in front of the 
 stockade, which was, as usual, chained on the inside 
 to keep away marauding Indians or stray wolves. It 
 was sixteen feet high, built of straight white oak logs, 
 sharpened at the tops, but it was an affair of a mo- 
 ment for the gigantic redman to '"chin himself" on it, 
 and reach down with his simian-like arms and unbolt 
 the cumbersome hasp. He then walked through the 
 entrance like an invited guest, quietly closing but not 
 chaining the heavy oaken gate. Lights were glowing 
 from the loop-holes of the long house ; evidently the 
 distinguished guest was being entertained at dinner. 
 Walking carefully lest "crows' feet" or caltraps be 
 strewn about, he approached the loop-hole from which 
 the most light was streaming athwart the summer 
 night. Stooping over, he peered within. The scene 
 was one that he never forgot. At the head of an oval 
 table sat John Harris himself, in his best plum-colored 
 evening coat ; opposite sat his young Quaker wife, clad
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 35 
 
 in grey satin, while at her right, and facing the loop- 
 hole, was Major Thrale, of the Highland Regiment, 
 resplendent in scarlet coat, gold lace and decorations. 
 H!e was a black-haired, lean-faced man, very sallow, 
 with an enormous beak nose and a small black mus- 
 tache, a souvenir of his continental service ; his deep- 
 set eyes were small, black and furtive, and he looked 
 to be about thirty years of age. He was evidently 
 trying to make an impression on the Harrises for some 
 reason. It might have been, Long John thought, be- 
 cause Mrs. Harris was related to the heiress to whom 
 the Major was betrothed, and the Harrises, in turn,, 
 looked upon him as a great Continental military hero. 
 At any rate, the display of plate was a remarkable one 
 for the frontier, and the silver, many-branched candel- 
 abra at the centre of the table was beautiful to behold. 
 Indian serving men stood behind the chairs of master, 
 mistress and guest. Taking aim at Major Thrale's 
 heart. Long John pulled the trigger of his long rifle. 
 He was unerring ; in a moment the proud military hero 
 would be weltering in blood and that placid dining 
 room all consternation. The Mint lock missed, but 
 there was an ominous ''click." The alert ear of John 
 Harris' Quaker wife was used to such sounds. With- 
 out a word she leaned over the small table and blew out 
 the lights with one great gust of her pretty lips. Then 
 all was confusion, but principally out of doors, where 
 the huge Indian needed all of his cunning and speed to 
 make his escape. A search was made, which kept up 
 all night ; dogs were loosed, but Long John was in his
 
 36 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 canoe and hurrying up the river before the searchers 
 were within miles of him. 
 
 The disappearance of Long John, who did not re- 
 turn to Hay's Fields, created some little surprise and 
 talk, but as far as Hester was concerned she soon had 
 cause for rejoicing, as Major Thrale put in an appear- 
 ance, and prepared to pitch his camp for an extended 
 stay in the neighborhood. However, in the very out- 
 set of his enjoyment he received word to join the 
 colors immediately at Carlisle, which was disconcert- 
 ing. Long John managed to intercept Major Agmon- 
 desham somewhere in the wilderness, and enlisted in 
 the Riflemen. He was in Agmondesham's battalion 
 when the various forces for the conquest of Fort Du- 
 quesne assembled at a general encampment at Loyal- 
 hanna, Royal Americans, Highlanders, Virginians and 
 Pennsylvanians. During the encampment both Major 
 Agmondesham and Long John had several occasions 
 to see Major Thrale, but they naturally were in no 
 positions to exchange opinions on the subject. 
 
 One day Long John met the Indian scout Joshua 
 (whose body was found on the King's Stool a few 
 years later), who told him that Major Thrale was 
 married to Hester, and had her with him in care of a 
 sutler's family in the rear. Long John might have 
 conveyed this information to his Major, but did not 
 care to offend his feelings. It made his blood boil as 
 he was told that no real marriage had taken place, and 
 felt that the girl was a dupe of an adventurer.
 
 View from 
 
 I 
 Piney Mountain Fire 
 
 j 
 Tower Winter j
 
 SOUTH MOt-NTAJN 
 
 hurrying up the n\er 
 i" ;nilcs '..'!' him 
 
 j 
 
 T 
 
 wsiV 
 
 nijBJnuoM
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 37 
 
 When the detachment under Major Grant and 
 Major Lewis moved forward, Thrale was with them, 
 and' Long John was selected to be one of the scouts to 
 lead the party. History tells how they defied their 
 Indian advisors and marched into ambush with bag- 
 pipes playing; the general inefficiency of the officers 
 alone absolved them from the charge of cowardice. 
 Most of them turned and ran like dogs, but the 
 despised Major Thrale stood his ground, resolved to 
 die facing the enemy. Long John met him holding a 
 position all by himself, piles of dead Highlanders sur- 
 rounding him, but even this spectacle did not alter his 
 stern resolve. Creeping up behind the embattled offi- 
 cer he struck him a violent blow with a "dornoch," as 
 the mountain people call a round stone about the size 
 of a cannon ball, and the red-coated warrior doubled 
 up like a jack-knife and fell back among his dead and 
 dying henchmen. Long John crawled on his chest and 
 looked him in the eyes. "You damn son of a ," he 
 hissed. "I called you that behind your back, and now 
 I Ming it into your teeth, you damn yellow bastard. I 
 tried to kill you at John Harris', but my rifle missed 
 fire ; you will not escape me now." The half-dazed 
 Highlander spluttered: "Fellow, I say, what have I 
 ever done to you?" "Done to me, swine? You have 
 done everything. You won the love of the finest girl 
 in the world, the only one I will ever love, when you 
 were promised to another, and you brought her to 
 Loyalhanna, tricked by a faulty marriage. I'll scalp 
 you like the dirty skunk you are!" Holding the High-
 
 38 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 lander's throat in his left hand he drew his long butcher 
 knife and, after a flourish or two, held the black, 
 reeking scalp aloft. Then he released his hold, saying 
 as a parting shot : "The French and Indians can do 
 the rest. Your bare noggin will look well on one of 
 the poles along the race ground at the fort." 
 
 Like a huge moose the big Indian bounded over the 
 heaps of slain, and in the darkness of the forest hid 
 himself until the remnant of the command could be 
 gathered together. All of the scouts who returned, 
 and a few of the Virginians and Highlanders, carried 
 black scalps in their belts. Long John's was only one 
 of many ; it might be that of an Indian or a southern 
 Frenchman. 
 
 Later in the year, in the cold and sleet of a Novem- 
 ber afternoon, the victorious army of Forbes. Bouquet 
 and Washington marched towards the abandoned 
 stockades of Fort Duquesne. The easiest path to 
 follow was the Indian race ground, where captives had 
 been made to run the gauntlet, all marked out with 
 sharpened stakes, gotten up as scare crow effigies of 
 fallen Highlanders. There was a head on the top of 
 each stake, and over cross-bars were draped the faded 
 coats and kilts of the decapitated warriors. It was a 
 gruesome sight, and some of the Highland soldiers 
 moaned and cursed aloud as they recognized the sev- 
 ered heads of brothers or comrades. 
 
 Major Thrale was the only high-ranking Highlander 
 accounted missing from the skirmish of September 13, 
 and Major Agmondesham had a little curiosity to see
 
 39 
 
 if his head was impaled; if not he may have run away 
 into the forest, and be still running for that matter. 
 As he scanned each head, well preserved by the con- 
 tinued freezing weather, he looked for the small black 
 mustache, that souvenir of continental service, which 
 would distinguish the unfortunate Major. At the 
 very end of the race ground, he spied the well-known 
 face. As he looked at it. he heard a snicker in the 
 ranks, that was not at all like the hysterical coughs of 
 grief ; peering out of the corner of one eye he saw a 
 triumphant expression on the eagle-like visage of 
 Long John. Like a flash many ideas came to him. 
 Could this redman, from his own disappointment or 
 out of respect for his commander's unrequited love, 
 have slain the successful suitor? If so, it was merely 
 another exemplification of the unfathomable depths of 
 the Indian character. 
 
 As to Big John, as stated before, his exploits belong 
 more to the central part of the State, but are equally 
 worth recording, for, like Long John, he lived fully 
 and loved well, and was in every sense worthy of a 
 place in the folk history of the Commonwealth. Some 
 time ago the writer heard that several anecdotes of 
 Rig John could be learned from a certain Frank Dapp, 
 an old-time watch-maker and hunter, but on visiting 
 his home town it was learned that he had passed away. 
 It recalls the incident of when the famous author of 
 "Chants Popularie de la Provence," Damase Arbaud, 
 went on a long journey to speak with a man reported 
 to have cognizance of much traditional matter, he met
 
 40 
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 issuing from the house door, not the man, but his 
 coffin. Thus legends are lost, and it is well that a few 
 have been saved concerning the days in the Pennsyl- 
 vania mountains "when there were giants." 
 
 it*
 
 HI. Love Beyond the Grave 
 
 WHEN old Jacob Schneck was left a widower he 
 was nearly seventy years of age. He had quar- 
 relled with his only son twenty years before, and 
 had not heard from him since he went to Kansas, soon 
 after this disturbance. Old Jacob was known as a 
 violent, quarrelsome character, and it was only by his 
 wife humoring him that she was able to live with him 
 at all. He was a short, heavy-set man, with a grizzled 
 beard, gruff of voice and coarse of manner; he had 
 been a stonemason in his youth, and was reputed to 
 have saved some money. Most of his life was spent on 
 a farm along the pike, and for many years his square 
 white frame house in the Black Gap was a familiar 
 landmark to travelers. When his wife died' he did not 
 exhibit any signs of grief, except a deep-seated chagrin 
 at having his housekeeper removed, for the poor 
 woman had suited him admirably in that respect. He 
 caused it to be known that he was in need of a house- 
 keeper ; he even mentioned the subject on the way 
 back from the graveyard. It soon became a matter 
 of common gossip. The general run of women shrank 
 from going to the house of such an uncouth character. 
 Several months passed before he even received an 
 applicant. He was forced to cook his own meals. 
 The Widow Lemasters, who lived about a mile back in 
 the hills, came to see him one day to tell him of a very 
 Iftcely person, her niece, Miriam Dousdebes. "Was 
 she a daughter of his old friend, Adam Dousdebes?" 
 
 41
 
 42 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 he queried. ''If so, she came of good stock; he would 
 feel lucky to get her." Widow Lemasters believed in 
 calling a spade a spade, and informed him that Miriam 
 had gone to Baltimore to work in a hotel ; that before 
 she went she had been the victim of what was known 
 in the mountains as an "unfortunate love affair" ; that 
 she wanted to come back, but would only come if she 
 could get some steady work like that of housekeeper. 
 Old Schneck, having known the girl's father well, and 
 thinking that he remembered her by sight, made a 
 liberal offer for her services, and Widow Lemasters 
 left, promising to write to her at once. It was a load 
 off her mind, as she was fond of the girl and wanted 
 her in her home environment again, but after what 
 had happened knew that she was too headstrong and 
 proud to sit about the house if not contributing to her 
 own support. Schneck had not been noted for his 
 morals in his youth, but now as an aged man and 
 widower, had probably outgrown his early predilec- 
 tions. After having located the situation, Widow Le- 
 masters told her brother and his wife of the place she 
 had found for Miriam. "I don't like Jake Schneck," 
 said old Dousdebes. u He was a d'raft dodger in the 
 Civil War. You mind how he hid in a cave on Bear 
 Mountain while the draft was going on ; he was a 
 copperhead before that, and a man with such begin- 
 nings can be no good now. I fought for my country as 
 best I could, and I can never forgive the quitter who 
 slinked out at home." Nevertheless he conceded that 
 it would be best to get Miriam home ; she would only
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 43 
 
 come back if she had work; that she had stipulated in 
 many letters. Schneck might be all right ; he would 
 pay her well, and she might as well "try it on." 
 
 The girl was written to, the place was pictured as 
 alluring as possible, and the family connection lived 
 in hopes for a favorable reply. Ten days elapsed be- 
 fore she answered, but when the letter came, in her 
 usual clear-hand waiting, it was to say that she would 
 accept the place, and was starting the very next day. 
 Widow Lemasters carried the news to old Schneck, 
 whom she found in an ugly frame of mind; he had 
 begun to despair of ever getting a housekeeper, was on 
 the point of making sale and moving to Chambers- 
 burg, he averred. Miriam, in her letter, stated ex- 
 pressly that she wanted to be taken directly from the 
 train to her new place. She was in apparently an ex- 
 citable frame of mind about coming home, so it was 
 deemed best to humor her. Mr. Schneck had an old- 
 fashioned surrey, and, hitching up his pair of twenty- 
 five-year-old flea-bitten whites, and accompanied by 
 Widow Lemasters, he drove down the pike to Seven 
 Stars, where Miriarn had stipulated she would be met 
 in preference to Pond Bank, as she did not care to run 
 the chance of seeing any of her old friends just yet. 
 Being of Greek descent on her father's side and 
 Palatine and Huguenot on her mother's, she was what 
 they called in the mountains "high strung," and in the 
 cities "temperamental." 
 
 It was late in the afternoon of the first of December 
 when the little, jerky train pulled in at the station.
 
 44 
 
 Schneck was sitting in the surrey holding the horses, 
 which were said to be afraid of cars, leaving Widow 
 Lemasters to meet the girl, attend to her trunk and the 
 rest. The train was half an hour late, and Miriam 
 had heen traveling since early in the morning. The 
 greybeard, while pretending to be watching the horses, 
 was keeping a sharp lookout for the girl, for down 
 deep in his battered old nature he felt a thrill for the 
 opposite sex that time could not still. He noticed her 
 the minute she alighted from the train. What a pretty 
 girl she was ! So slim and graceful ! She was stand- 
 ing on the platform talking to her aunt before they 
 walked across to get into the carriage. She was 
 dressed in black, in a tight-fitting suit, and was a trifle 
 above the middle height. Her face was very lean, the 
 features sharply cut, the cheekbones broad, the 
 cheeks hollow, the nose prominent, the thin, wide 
 mouth seemingly drawn tight over the teeth like 
 the lips of a mummy. The eyes, hair and brows were 
 very black, the complexion deadly pale, yet not un- 
 wholesome. How fortunate he was, he thought, to 
 draw for housekeeper such a lovely object; he would 
 treat her well, and perhaps she could marry him. As 
 she came across the platform carrying a wicker suit- 
 case, he made no move to get out of the surrey as she 
 approached. He curtly tipped his hat when intro- 
 duced by Widow Lemasters. Seeing his imperturba- 
 bility the girl hurried back across the platform, lo- 
 cated the agent, who gladly carried her small tin trunk, 
 placing it on the seat beside the aged driver. Then the
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 45 
 
 women got in, pulled a buffalo robe over their knees, 
 and the ponderous farm horses started off on a half 
 gallop, half trot along the bleak, bare road, the wind 
 moaning dismally among the telephone wires. There 
 was very little conversation on the eight-mile drive ; 
 it was dark and spitting snow when they reached the 
 old man's home. He let Widow Lemasters and Miriam 
 lift out the suitcase and trunk, but told them that they 
 would find the key under the rag rug by the kitchen 
 door. 
 
 Inside the house was cold and dark, while they fum- 
 bled for the matches. The man had driven his team to 
 the barn, and was leisurely "putting them away." By 
 the time he returned, the lamp was lit and a woodfire 
 burning in the kitchen stove. It was a large, cheerless- 
 looking room, bare of everything but necessities. Yet 
 Miriam had seen many such kitchens in her twenty- 
 three years of life, and thought nothing of it. So for 
 the manners of her employer, they were on a par with 
 those of the majority of persons she knew. It was 
 the hard, rough life to which she was accustomed. 
 Before making any plans for supper, the old man in- 
 vited the women to come to the barn to help him milk. 
 When they got there, a calf had been lately born, and 
 it was nearly 10 o'clock before they returned to the 
 house. Then they had what is known as "snack" and 
 prepared to retire for the night. There were three 
 bedrooms in the house. Schneck occupied the largest 
 one. There was a guest room opposite, and a smaller 
 room over the kitchen for the housekeeper. It con-
 
 40 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 tained a single, very narrow, wooden bed of antique 
 design, but Miriam asked her aunt to share it with her 
 "the first night." The women found a small glass 
 lamp old Schneck had taken the best one and 
 climbed the narrow stairs, which were concealed be- 
 hind a door at one side of the boarded'-over open fire- 
 place, in front of which stood the shining metal stove. 
 It was a cold bedroom, destitute of all means of heat- 
 ing, but Miriam had always been used to cold rooms, 
 even after she went to Baltimore, and she took it as a 
 matter of course. Even after asking her aunt to stay 
 with her, she had nothing to say. The women undressed 
 silently and retired, and were soon asleep. They were 
 awake long before daybreak, as was their habit, dressed 
 in the dark, went out to the barn and milked, washing 
 in a small tin basin of cold water on the side porch 
 after they had returned with the milk. 
 
 After breakfast Widow Lemasters took her depar- 
 ture, leaving Miriam with the old man. That after- 
 noon the aunt wended her way to the Dousdebes home 
 and told the story. All were pleased that the girl was 
 safely located, and in about a week planned' to visit her. 
 
 Old Schneck was very happy, as he deeply admired 
 his housekeeper far above any work she might do for 
 him. Though he made no effort to lighten any of her 
 burdens, he kept staring at her when he was with her, 
 and thinking of her when away from her all the time. 
 He began to live in a state of elation, such as he had 
 not known since the days of his youth. There was 
 something in that deathly pale face, with its sunken
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 cheeks, those cavernous dark eyes always gazing out 
 through half-closed lids like a sullen falcon, raptorial 
 and passionate, and the wide, thin mouth drawn so 
 tightly over the teeth, that appealed to him as 
 no woman's features had before. He liked to 
 watch her from his bench behind the stove, so agile 
 combing her wonderful head of raven hair, hair that 
 had a very slight curl to it and hung below lier waist, 
 every motion of her arms throwing into relief the at- 
 tenuation of her form, the almost incredible smallness 
 of her waist, the meagreness of her hips, when she had 
 finished her milking and was "washing up" for break- 
 fast. Every motion was beauty and grace, and illumi- 
 nated his blurred old life with thrills of incandescence. 
 Sometimes her mother came to see her, less frequently 
 her father, and still less frequently her brothers and 
 sisters. Her father did not like the "old draft dodger," 
 as he called Schneck, and always wore his bronze 
 Grand Army button conspicuously during his visits. 
 His ancestors had fled to Pennsylvania from Greece, 
 along with many other refugees, about the time that 
 the heroic Lord Byron was distinguishing himself 
 there, and there was steadfastness of purpose and a 
 stubborn patriotism that came from heroic sires who 
 hated cowards and traitors as a part of their long 
 years of oppression. But he was pleased that Miriam 
 was back from the city, though her troubles had origi- 
 nated before she had gone to Baltimore, and' her life 
 there had been one of drudgery, and though every- 
 thing else was as it should have been. Yet lie associ-
 
 48 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ated cities with wholesale wickedness, and his "girl" 
 was better off with a poltroon like Schneck than in 
 some vast, seething Sodom! The greater part of a 
 year passed by and Miriam still remained with the old 
 man. Like her father, she possessed a tenacity of 
 purpose ; she had remained four years in Baltimore 
 as cook and waitress in hotels and restaurants ; she 
 might remain even longer with the old man if he lived 
 long enough. She had resumed her acquaintance with 
 none of her early friends, boys or girls. The miles 
 that intervened between Schneck's home and her pa- 
 rents' domicile proved an effectual barrier ; besides, 
 most of them had married and taken up other interests 
 during the period of her absence. Sometimes she had 
 unpleasant dreams at night that revived the high hopes 
 of her girlhood' and their sordid ending, but otherwise 
 she was beginning to feel more like her old self. The 
 harder she worked in the barn and garden the better 
 she felt ; the dreams which awoke old memories were 
 less frequent as she increased the scope of her manual 
 labor. For her temperament she was probably happier 
 than she had been for many years. At her home she 
 had been hard to control ; then came her trouble, and 
 she went away to a new environment. One evening a 
 stranger came to Schneck's house, his motor car had 
 broken down on the pike, and he asked for shelter for' 
 the night. The old man had no objections to admit- 
 ting him. Seated in the kitchen, by the light of the 
 single lamp, the stranger eyed Miriam closely, and 
 admired her mightily with his artist's vision. He won-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 49 
 
 dered what her life's history could be in that doleful 
 spot, keeping house for that rough old yokel. He 
 wished that he might know her better. That night he 
 had a dream in which the entire story of her life was 
 revealed to him. "What is dreamed in a new bed' is 
 always true/' so the mountain proverb puts it. In the 
 morning he delayed his departure until he might be 
 alone with the girl. His chance came when his chauf- 
 feur and the old man went outside to put water in the 
 car. Then tipping back his chair against the greasy 
 wainscoted wall of the kitchen, he told her of his 
 vision. Miriam blushed even to the roots of her dark, 
 curly hair, the only time that her deathly pale face had 
 shown any color since she came to keep house for 
 Schneck, and after failing to answer for a time, finally 
 nodded her head in assent. To it she added a story 
 of cruel treatment in childhood, of lack of home 
 training, culminating in running away at the age of 
 fourteen, only to be brought back under more re- 
 stricted conditions. The stranger went away, never 
 to return. For some reason the old man's jeal- 
 ousy became aroused, for he ordered her to accommo- 
 date no more travelers, and was moody and sulky for 
 several days. That was the only episode that broke 
 the routine of her life on the farm until the dread epi- 
 demic of influenza set in, when she had been with the 
 old man for nearly a year. Schneck had been work- 
 ing late, husking corn, Miriam assisting him, and', 
 coming in long after nightfall, experienced a chill, and 
 went to bed. Miriam gave him all the teas she could
 
 50 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 find in the house boneset, catnip, and Jersey, elder- 
 berry wine and whiskey, but he was so much worse in 
 the morning that she hitched up one of the horses and 
 drove to the nearest telephone to summon a doctor 
 from Fayetteville. When she returned in half an hour 
 he was delirious, and as she approached the bed tried 
 to catch hold of her and draw her close to him, moan- 
 ing out in Pennsylvania Dutch that he loved her, that 
 he was going to die, and she must go with him. When 
 the doctor came at noon he was still raving, all in the 
 same unpleasant strain. He became so violent that 
 the doctor ordered the girl to keep out of the room. 
 Several neighbor women were summoned, but when 
 he saw them he cursed wildly in Dutch, and called for 
 Miriam. In the middle of the night he sprang from 
 the bed and, knocking his nurses asitfe, rushed down 
 the cold stairway, through the hall into the kitchen, 
 and with feverish fingers fumbled the hasp leading to 
 the staircase to Miriam's tiny room. The girl was sit- 
 ting on the bed in the darkness, her dress was off, she 
 had been trying to write a letter to the stranger when 
 the lamp had gone out, and, sinking down, became ab- 
 sorbed in revery. She was aroused by the racket be- 
 low, and heard the door open and a couple of heavy 
 footfalls, followed by the shrieks of the neighbor 
 women who were now at old Schneck's heels. Calling 
 loudly in Pennsylvania Dutch : "Miriam, I love you ; 
 I am dying, and I am going to take you with me," he 
 fell in a heap on the first step and was dragged back
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 51 
 
 only to be found stone dead. Miriam sat down again 
 on the bed in the darkness, dazed, until the neighbor 
 women appeared with lamps and told' her to come down 
 and help carry the corpse back to its bed. She crawled 
 into her dress somehow, and helped perform the grue- 
 some task, and lay out the corpse as well. In the morn- 
 ing friends of the deceased arrived and it was arranged 
 that Miriam should remain in the house after the 
 funeral until young Schneck could come in from Kan- 
 sas and take possession of his late father's property. 
 Widow Lemasters would live with her it would not 
 be for long. Miriam had to work somewhere; she did 
 not want to go back to Baltimore ; there was a man 
 there who annoyed her with his attentions. She would 
 remain, and perhaps might keep house for young 
 Schneck if he elected to reside at his father's home- 
 stead. 
 
 The night after the funeral Miriam retired to her 
 little room above the kitchen. Widow Lemasters was 
 occupying the guest chamber. The girl knew no fear. 
 She would have slept in the room the old man died in, 
 or beside the corpse, if there had been any reason for 
 so doing. At midnight she was awakened by some one 
 walking about in the kitchen. "It's only Aunty," she 
 thought, "down after some medicine for her tooth- 
 ache." But soon she heard gutteral and inarticulate 
 sounds like disjointed sentences in Dutch. Could it be 
 old Schneck coming back to keep his promise? She 
 heard the hasp creak, but it did not open, and it wat-
 
 52 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 soon followed by a terrific pounding on the door, in- 
 terspersed with moans and' sighs. The racket was so 
 great and so prolonged that Widow Lemasters was 
 awakened and, coming down with her lamp, found no 
 one. She opened the door and called to Miriam, 
 "Are you sick? Have you been in the kitchen?" "No, 
 I am not sick," replied the girl, resolutely, "and I have 
 not been in the kitchen. It's Jake Schneck come back/' 
 The following night the same performance was re- 
 peated, only the din was louder. The next morning 
 Widow Lemasters asked the girl to come and sleep with 
 her in the guest room, but she refused. "No ghost 
 has the strength to unhook a hasp," she said boldly. 
 The racket kept up every night for two weeks, some- 
 times becoming louder and more menacing, but Miriam 
 learned to sleep through it all. One Sunday night the 
 rumpus was louder than ever, waking her, but not 
 frightening her. This time, to her surprise, the hasp 
 was sprung aside, and Miriam heard heavy footsteps 
 on the cramped, crooked stairs. "Oh, if he'd only 
 fall," she said to herself, still lying prone. But on he 
 came ; there was no door at the head of the stairs ; the 
 steps opened in a corner of the room. Out of the 
 floor, in the moonlight, appeared Jake Schneck's head 
 and shoulders, then his whole form, and with our- 
 stretched arms, came in view. Miriam was now sitting 
 up in bed, her aquiline face with its fine thin month 
 looking all the world like the Mummy of Rameses II , 
 her dark eyes gleaming with all the anger of Horus,
 
 53 
 
 the Avenger. The ugly form advanced toward the 
 bed, but after taking a couple of steps, with a crash 
 toppled forward, falling over the foot of the bed and 
 vanishing. Miriam stood the ordeal without fainting, 
 but in the morning told her aunt that since the appari- 
 tion had begun penetrating into her room she could 
 remain in the house no longer. She gathered together 
 her belongings and, walking to a neighbor's house in 
 the cold fog of the early morning, secured a horse and 
 spring wagon to take her, with her trunk and suitcase, 
 to Seven Stars, where she boarded a train which would 
 connect for Harrisburg. After what she had bem 
 through, Widow Lemasters could not ask her to stay. 
 Distant relatives and friends of the deceased boarded 
 up the house, arranging to care for the livestock, for 
 the son, though telegraphed for, showed himself to 
 be in no hurry to come east. That night the noise in 
 the deserted house was so great that it was heard at 
 the neighboring farmhouses, half a mile away. The 
 ghost seemed to be pounding the house down with mi- 
 potent rage and frenzy. Every night the same pro- 
 ceedings occurred, some nights less .violently than 
 others, for the love that lasted beyond the grave must 
 be appeased, and' the soul of the old man was so earth 
 bound that it could not take flight. Widow Lemasters, 
 when she heard of these doings, sagely remarked : 
 "There's only one thing to do : tear down the house, 
 and that will lay the hellish ghost." And having a 
 reputation for knowledge along such lines, her views
 
 54 
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 were pretty generally acquiesced in. Miriam's parents, 
 when they heard she had gone away without saying 
 good-bye or leaving an address, were considerably 
 chagrined. "We should have know r n that a draft 
 dodger was no earthly good," said old Dousdebes, 
 shaking his his shaggy black beard, "and too mean 
 even to find a place in the world beyond."
 
 IV. Conestoga 
 
 WHEN. old Pastor Simon Rostraver, of Slaney 
 Church, at Farmersmith, near the head of Path 
 Valley, was left a widower, one of his daughters 
 from Letterkenny, who had lost her husband some 
 years before, and whose children were grown, came 
 to live with him. She was a devoted companion and 
 attendant, never leaving him, except once a year at 
 Christmas time, when she would return to Letterkenny 
 and visit about among her children and grandchildren 
 for the two weeks between Christmas and the first 
 week of the New Year. She always urged her aged 
 father to come along, as did his numerous descend- 
 ants, but he preferred his familiar associations in the 
 bleak old manse where he had lived for so many years, 
 to all the holiday festivities which his kindred might 
 offer. He had moved to Path Valley soon after being 
 ordained into the ministry, nearly sixty years before, 
 first settling near Fort London, and gradually moving 
 with the congregations as the upper part of the valley 
 was opened, until in his old age he received the least 
 desirable charge of all at Farmersmith, where he felt 
 that he would round out his days. Perhaps it was a 
 fear of being superseded that caused him to cling so 
 tenaciously to the manse, as even in these remote days 
 younger men were always the preference, even in the 
 church. Probably because they were more newly ar- 
 rived from heaven, for certainly these striplings would 
 possess less worldly wisdom ! During his daughter's 
 
 55
 
 56 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 absences, a granddaughter or a great-granddaughter 
 was always selected to keep him company, and the two 
 weeks usually passed pleasantly and placidly. There 
 were very few of the old pastor's denomination at the 
 head of the valley, but those who were there were zeal- 
 ous church members, so what the congregation lacked 
 in numbers made up in enthusiasm. 
 
 On the particular Christmas tide that concerns this 
 narrative a great-granddaughter, "Jodie" Bridgham, 
 from Fort London, had been told off to act as com- 
 panion during her aunt's absence. She was an unus-- 
 ually pretty girl of sixteen, and was bright, cheerful 
 and sociable. To her, and to her alone, in the long 
 winter evenings the old man sometimes would tell of 
 his early days in Ireland, at Clogher, how when the 
 wild geese flew over the place it was said, "They are 
 going to Lough Neagh," which he would proudly 
 acclaim was the largest inland lake in Europe. He 
 would tell of stirring times at Paxtang and 
 London, or the Revolution, or when Indians abound- 
 ed, and the country was still being fought for 
 by the British and French. He had known Rev. 
 John Elder, the righting parson of Paxtang Church, 
 who was an Antrim man, born at Lough Neagh ; 
 Colonel Lazarus Stewart, John Harris, John Good- 
 away, the friendly Indian, Colonel Henri Bouquet, 
 the real victor at Fort Duquesne. Major Grant of the 
 Highlanders, James Logan, the Mingo Chief, "Mad'' 
 Anthony Wayne. General John Philip De Haas, Gen- 
 eral Thomas Mifflin, and all the other characters then
 
 A Close View 
 
 of 
 'Rocky Mount" 
 

 
 io 
 
 "inuoM 
 
 ____ 
 
 fl i Li 11 t' 
 
 ere x.ca I'- 
 ll lacked
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 57 
 
 assuming historical importance. He once told of the 
 massacres of the friendly Conestoga Indians at their 
 camp near Lancaster, and in Lancaster Work House, 
 yet minimized the part he had played, either from mod- 
 esty or changed convictions. Yet it was on record how 
 this then young graduate of the Log College, in cleri- 
 cal attire, had shot down the Chief of the Conestogas, 
 the one ahle-hodied Indian in the entire aggregation of 
 victims, while he was trying to protect the women and 
 children, and how John Penn, hearing of it, had placed 
 a price on his scalp. He had hidden in the Tuscarora 
 and Kittochtinny Mountains for many months, until 
 finally powerful friends had softened the wrath of the 
 unstable Penn, and he had been allowed to resume his 
 churchly calling, provided he never returned to Pax- 
 tang. Even when the Penns had vanished he never 
 came back, so in that respect he was the most punished 
 member of the bloodthirsty band of so-called "Paxton 
 Boys." The weather was very severe, but despite this 
 the young great-granddaughter accompanied a sleigh- 
 ing party to Horse Valley, where sliding on a mill pond 
 of the Conodogwinet was indulged in, and the young 
 people built a fire to warm themselves. In some unac- 
 countable manner Jodie's clothing caught fire and she 
 was severely burned about the body. A local doctor 
 helped her all he could. She was then hurried back to 
 Farmersmith. Several doctors attended her, saying 
 that if she withstood the shock she would survive the 
 burning. The old pastor, being nearly ninety years 
 of age, was considerably upset by this dreadful acci-
 
 58 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 dent ; especially there was no way to get a quick mes- 
 sage to her parents, so with the aid of his old servant, 
 Maggie Gleim, attempted to care for and nurse the 
 girl until some one would be going to Letterkenny. 
 The night before Jodie had' gone to Horse Valley he 
 had sat up with her in his library, telling more of the 
 episodes of his early life, and his mind was filled with 
 memories of the stirring days along the Blue Moun- 
 tains in the Eighteenth Century, of his youth in '55, 
 and his strong manhood in '63. Now, as night came 
 on and his favorite descendant lay suffering, he in- 
 formed his servant that he would sit up with her, 
 that he was a very poor sleeper, and it would leave 
 Maggie fresher to do her work the next morn- 
 ing. The old maid-of-all-work gladly consented, 
 and the aged man took up his vigil beside the 
 young girl's bedside. The girl lay in a large yellow 
 walnut bedstead in the spare room, a great, square, 
 high-ceilinged apartment, with an open fireplace, on 
 the front of the mantel of which was carved an in- 
 scription in the Gaelic language : 
 
 "Far'm beil na laoich a dh' fhalbh o shean. 
 
 An cadal trcm gun dol le ceol." 
 However, in common with most men of the Rev. 
 Simon Rostraver's persuasion, he detested everything 
 that savored of the native Irish, always empha- 
 sizing his Scotch or English origin. The old pastor 
 was, however, one of the earliest students of the 
 Gaelic tongue in the entire United States, but it 
 was the Gaelic of Scotland, and not of the Em-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 59 
 
 erald Isle, that interested him, he said. As he sat 
 by the bedside, the huge room lit by a single rush 
 light on the night table, and the glow from the backlog 
 in the fireplace, he noted the flushed, feverish condition 
 of the girl's face, how restless she was. and how un- 
 natural she seemed when he tried to converse with her. 
 She appeared to have great difficulty in breathing, and 
 tossed from side to side of the bed, every move adding 
 to her misery, yet was fully conscious of her surround- 
 ings. When she would lie quiet or seem to doze, the 
 old man, in order to divert his mind, would hearken 
 back in his thoughts to the pioneer days at Paxtang, 
 where he played so stirring a part they could not 
 have been altogether pleasant memories, but he was 
 worried lest the young girl die, so far away from her 
 parents, and any change of thought was refreshing. 
 He recalled the recent visit of the young hunter, 
 Johnny Kilgore, who always brought him a deer for 
 Christmas ; how the boy who lived to be the most noted 
 Nimrod in Horse and Path Valleys had described 
 seeing seven Indians packing eastward over the Tri- 
 Mountain Road, how they had stopped at Hetty Bell's 
 spring for mead and ginger cakes, almost frightening 
 that good woman out of her wits. Who could those 
 Indians have been, and where were they going to 
 east. His old resentment against all redmen boiled up 
 in him, and he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists 
 as he thought of the atrocities supposed to have been 
 committed by them on the land-grabbing white savages. 
 He soon found that to think of Indians was as unpleas-
 
 60 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ant as to reason over the burned girl's condition ; he 
 could not fly from his ugly train of thought. Outside 
 the wind was beating a weird, terrible tattoo against 
 the house, and a loose board in the chimney flapped 
 back and forth, making a sound which, if he had not 
 known what it was, he could have mistaken for a 
 ghost. He didn't believe in ghosts, in dreams and 
 tokens, perhaps a little, but his experiences with ghosts 
 had been negative. While still in his teens he had gone 
 to court a young lady on the Conestoga, several miles 
 above what was later the scene of his sanguinary 
 exploit with the Indian chief, and, remaining late, was 
 reminded that he would have to pass a certain syca- 
 more tree from which a ghost was wont to issue and 
 frighten passersby. He had been a courageous yout'i, 
 and walked boldly along the lonely path until he 
 reached the tree. It gleamed white in the starlight, 
 and he paused to look at it and wait for the appearance 
 of the ghost. As none came, he called out in his loudest 
 tones : "Ghost, if you are there, present yourself ; I 
 want to see you." Still all was silence save for the 
 slight, rippling, flowing sound of the Conestoga. He 
 then walked up and poked with his cane about the 
 tree, tarried a while longer to give the ghost all the 
 time it needed to materialize, and then resumed his 
 way towards Lancaster. He felt more afraid of In- 
 dians or footpads than ghosts for the remainder of 
 the journey. 
 
 The second occasion was when he was in hiding in 
 the Tuscarora Mountains after the Conestoga massa-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 61 
 
 ere. It was at nightfall, and, with two fellow refugees, 
 approached a substantial but tenantless log house 
 which stood in a good-sized clearing along one of the 
 runs which was tributary to the Conococheague. 
 "Here is a place to spend the night at last," he said, 
 for all three youths were footsore. One of his com- 
 panions shook his head. "That's the old McCaleb 
 homestead. It's haunted. We can't stay there." "We 
 will stay there," replied young Rostraver. "And I'll 
 lay the ghost if he dares to appear to us." Making 
 pillows of their great-coats, they lay down on the floor 
 in one of the rooms and fell asleep. About midnight 
 all three were awakened by a moaning, wailing noise 
 coming from a room at the end of the corridor. They 
 had no lights, but the clergyman declared that he 
 would attack the ghost in its lair. As he started down 
 the dark hall a fresh outburst of moaning and groan- 
 ing was heard. ''Come back before it is too late." 
 shouted his companions. "That only makes me want 
 to meet that ghost the more," said Rostraver, as he 
 went his way. As he neared the open door from 
 which the sounds had emanated, a new frenzy of wail- 
 ing and screeching met his ears. He burst into a loud 
 laugh, and called to his companions : "I have my 
 hands on the ghost, and have laid him." Walking to 
 the window he seized a thick mass of paper that had 
 been laid sheet upon sheet to cover the opening where 
 one of the lights was missing ; the wind searching its 
 way into these strips of paper had caused the uncanny 
 noises. He muttered to himself the familiar lines of
 
 62 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 his favorite poet, Oliver Goldsmith, "A window 
 patched with paper lent a ray." The three young men 
 slept soundly for the rest of the night, "There are no 
 ghosts," thought the old man as he gazed from the 
 floor to the sleeping form of his great-granddaughter, 
 or listened to the banshee-like wailing of the wind, or 
 the slow, leisurely ticking of the old Irish clock in the 
 hallway below. "I am as convinced' of that as any 
 Sadduccee of old." As he listened to the clock, the 
 tick-tock seemed to grow louder. "That cannot be the 
 clock," lie muttered. "It's some one walking below 
 stairs, raid coming this way." The door leading from 
 the sick room was kept open so that the servant who 
 slept in a nearby room could readily hear any sum- 
 mons. As the old man listened he could hear footsteps 
 coming up the staircase, soft foot-falls, like some one 
 in stocking feet. At the same time the injured girl 
 awoke and raised' herself up a little, rubbing her eyes. 
 Nearer and nearer came the footsteps. "Can it be old 
 Maggie walking in her sleep?" conjured the church- 
 man. Nearer and nearer the footsteps came ; the visitor 
 must l>e on the landing, and only a few paces from the 
 door. Rostraver, who had been sitting with his back 
 to the door, facing the bed, turned about, and to his 
 dismay saw standing in the doorway the stalwart form 
 of an Indian chief in full regalia, Tenessedaga of the 
 Conoys. The sick girl also saw the apparition, but 
 was too dazed by her painful condition to make an 
 outcry. The old clergyman was too amazed at first to 
 speak. The Indian stood there at "parade rest," lean-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 63 
 
 ing on the barrel of his long rifle, and looking stead- 
 fastly at the old man. Rostraver was seated in an 
 awkward position for defense, yet for several moments 
 he could not bring himself to move. Then he turned 
 about and sprang to his feet, his long, gaunt figure 
 spreading wierd shadows on the walls, as bold and 
 bellingerent as of yore. The wind was howling dread- 
 fully, and the board in the chimney was pounding 
 faster and faster ; the old man, with both fists tightly 
 clenched, and trembling with rage, spoke at the top of 
 his voice to be heard above the gale : "What do you 
 mean by coming here at this hour of the night, leering 
 like a Ninnihammer. If you are God, you will not 
 hurt us; if you are the devil, go to hell; if you are a 
 man, I'll break your head!" These words uttered, he 
 raised his long arm and shook his bony fist at the mid- 
 night intruder. But the Indian remained in the door- 
 way imperturbable. The unseemly episode brought 
 the suffering girl back to complete consciousness. 
 "What does that Indian want, grandfather?" she said, 
 as she tugged at one of the tails of the old man's broad- 
 cloth coat. "I'll soon find out, if he doesn't answer." 
 said the clergyman, breaking loose and striding towards 
 the fireplace. There were no sticks in the wood-box, 
 and the logs in the fireplace were almost coals, so laying 
 hold of one of the iron fire-dogs by its head he swung 
 it in the air and hurled it across the room at the immo- 
 bile redman. The fire-dog struck the floor with a 
 heavy thud, the Indian gave the old man a look v/huii 
 seemed to go through his very vitals, then turned on
 
 64 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 lils heel and slowly passed along the hall and up the 
 stairs leading to the attic. Meanwhile Maggie Gleim, 
 aroused by the thud, rushed into the room. "Who was 
 that man I passed in the hall?" she fairly screamed. 
 Old Rostraver was very calm ; he was never cooler 
 when a fugitive with a price on his head or under fire 
 in the fiercest battles of the Revolution. "We will see," 
 he said. "You stay here with Jodie, while I go up- 
 stairs to investigate." Maggie had brought her candle 
 with her, which the old man took from her hand's, and, 
 unarmed as he was, he started for the gloomy attic. 
 He looked into every nook and corner, behind every 
 pile of timbers, or musty books, or old furniture, and 
 even inside, of the big oaken chests, but no one was to 
 be seen, and there was no way out except through the 
 trap-door leading to the roof. Yet the old man would 
 not be convinced that he had seen a ghost, for he lin- 
 gered and poked about in the attic until the old Irish 
 clock sent its single echo upstairs, "one o'clock." 
 Haffled, but admitting nothing, he returned to his great- 
 granddaughter's sick room. "Was it an Indian ? ' 
 said the girl. "Was it a ghost?" said Maggie Gleim. 
 "I don't know what it was," replied Rostraver; "pos- 
 sibly neither. It will take some time to determine." 
 
 The serving- woman had replaced the fire-dog, and 
 soon retired to her own room, and' the aged clergyman 
 resumed his vigil by Jodie's bedside. The wind beat a 
 terrific fury about the eaves, and the loose board, like 
 a guilty heart, hammered incessantly in the chimney. 
 ''Woo. woo, woo, joh-hoh, joh-hoh. joh-hoh," now
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 65 
 
 Deemed its maddening refrain, the very words and 
 tone of the war cry of Conestogas and Conoys. 
 
 Reverend Simon Rostraver bowed his hoary head. 
 Before him arose the picture of the shrieking, pleading 
 Indian women and children, running hither and thither 
 with the sturdy Paxton boys beating out their brains 
 with the butts of their rifles, a memory which his soul 
 could not blot out, the chieftain he had shot down in 
 cold blood when he tried to protect the weak and the 
 aged, it was all too terrible, and his sixty years of 
 preaching of the Gospel of Forgiveness seemed like a 
 drop of water in a sea of blood, his ocean of iniquity. 
 Just as his thoughts were at their most melancholy 
 level, the big brass knocker on the front door began to 
 pound violently. Before the old man could decide 
 what to do, Maggie Gleim was in the hall with a rush- 
 light, hurrying to the door. From the head of the 
 stairs the old man could hear the voices of his daugh- 
 ter and the mother of the sick girl. They ran up the 
 stairs, almost tripping over their long, fur-tipped 
 wraps. Poor Jodie rose up in bed, clapping her hands 
 at the sight of them. "We all had such a strange 
 dream last night," the new arrivals chorused. "An 
 Indian chief in full regalia came to our bedsides and 
 told us that Jodie was seriously sick, and to go home 
 at once. When we awoke, no one, was to be seen. We 
 started away this morning, but the roads were so 
 drifted with snow, and the horses so weak, we were 
 stalled six or seven times. As it is, the team is now 
 stuck in a drift two miles down the road. We posi-
 
 66 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 lively could not wait, so left father and Black George 
 to get them out, and plowed our way through to get 
 here." 
 
 Rev. Simon Rostraver stood' eyeing the women, can- 
 dle in hand, in breathless amazement, as did the old 
 serving-woman. "That Indian has been here to- 
 night," firmly said the old man. "I thought he meant 
 us evil, so 1 fired one of the andirons at him, and 
 followed him to the garret, resolved to choke him and 
 throw him out of the house." "Then you weren't 
 dreaming when you saw him?" said Jodie's mother, 
 excitedly. "I saw him," said the sick girl. "And I, 
 too, saw him," said old Maggie Gleim. "Who do you 
 think he could have been, father?" said the burned 
 girl's mother. "I know very well who he was, I can 
 never forget that face from the Work House at Lan- 
 caster when I shot him down when he sought to stand 
 between me and some women I was knocking the brains 
 out of. It all goes to prove what I have been preach- 
 ing these sixty years, that there is only love and for- 
 giveness when once we are released from the bonds of 
 the flesh."
 
 V. The White Lady of Pomfret Castle 
 
 WHERE was Pomfret Castle? Though one of the 
 earliest and most important of the frontier forts, 
 it alone is undesignated on the maps of the Co- 
 lonial period, and even an exact work like the "Report 
 on the Frontier Forts of Pennsylvania," published in 
 1895, treats the historic structure almost as a myth. 
 Various historians have tried to find locations for it ; 
 some have placed it in the South Mountains, others in 
 the vicinity of Fort Littleton in the Big Cove, while 
 more have declared that it was on Cocalamus Creek or 
 along the Susquehanna. Surely the fort did exist, for 
 it is frequently alluded to in history, and was it not 
 from its immediate vicinity that the celebrated Patt 
 Mitcheltree was carried oft by six Indians in broad 
 daylight in 175(>? There is an old foundation of vast 
 proportions, with a subterranean passage leading to 
 the river hank, which some stoutly declare was the 
 site of the real Pomfret Castle. On it, some forty- 
 five years ago, a great square hotel of brick was 
 erected, in the expectation of catering to the travel 
 between the Juniata and Susquehanna Valleys. From 
 the first it proved a failure, as it stood a quarter mile 
 off the main highway, and the rutty, grass-grown lane 
 never looked inviting to the public. At nightfall, 
 when most belated travelers are looking for accommo- 
 dations, it was nearlv invisible from the main road and 
 the river, screened by giant oaks and birches, blending 
 nto the dark and sombre landscape. A single light 
 
 67
 
 68 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 from the window of the "out-kitchen," added on a year 
 after the main edifice was completed, flickered through 
 the gloom towards the pike, a veritable "star of the 
 glen," but too small a gleam against the blackness of 
 the oncoming dusk to tempt the wayfarer to turn off 
 the broad highway, with the wonderfully kept hostelry 
 of Pete Owens at Liverpool only a few miles distant. 
 
 For twenty years it has been practically deserted ; 
 this year a family is occupying the kitchen structure, 
 but when night comes on, and the giant trees wave 
 their gaunt branches, and the wind blows in sharp 
 gusts, it seems a place to be shunned by all except 
 lovers of the ghostly and the mysterious. It was an 
 error of judgment to construct such a huge building 
 in such an out-of-the-way locality, but the architect 
 who designed it was evidently a person of taste, and 
 must be commended on his results. The neighboring 
 mountain people considered it poor judgment to put 
 any buildings on the foundations of the old fort. "The 
 ghosts are there, and there will never be any peace for 
 any one who lives in such surroundings," was the re- 
 mark of many an old man and woman as they watched 
 the structure going up. But all its sins are forgiven 
 by its architectural uniqueness. 
 
 Huge and square as it is, with a flat roof and long, 
 narrow windows, it is like some old hacienda in Spain, 
 and might resemble the ancient manor so admirably 
 described by Stevenson in his eerie tale of "Olalla." 
 If outwardly it savors of the old world, and the realms 
 of romance, inwardly it is even more weirdly fascinat-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 69 
 
 ing. In the centre of the house is a vast corridor, 
 with winding staircase, the banisters of walnut and 
 curiously carved. On one side is a store building, but 
 the staircase does not lead to any of the rooms on that 
 wing ; they are completely cut off from the other parts 
 of the house. The stairway leads to corridors on the 
 second and third floors, honeycombed by many rooms, 
 large and small, and a vast garret, the size of the entire 
 house one of the most melancholy and ghostly old 
 lumber rooms imaginable. On the first floor are two 
 large parlors, with a grille between, handsome high- 
 ceilinged apartments fit for the abode of an Alcalde. 
 Above the store, which also contained a post office for 
 several years, is a large ball room, with benches ranged 
 about the walls, high-ceilinged and with long windows 
 like those in a country church. The only egress from 
 this ball room is from a hallway in the rear which 
 leads to a stairway which ascends to a number of 
 rooms above and behind the ball room, and descending 
 leads into a corridor back of the post office, which was 
 at the rear of the store building. There is a door from 
 this corridor leading into the more lately constructed 
 "back kitchen," and doors from this kitchen lead into 
 the great main hallway and into the back parlor, but 
 apart from these, the two halves of the great house are 
 separate and distinct. 
 
 There is nothing more depressing than a disused store, 
 with empty show-cases, counters and shelves, the floor 
 strewn with old newspapers, almanacs and torn pages 
 of account books a dull lull where once was the busy
 
 70 
 
 mart of trade. And an abandoned post office is even 
 more dispiriting the little window where so many 
 hopes have been raised or lowered, the pigeon-holes 
 once crammed with farm papers, catalogues and news- 
 papers, and fewer letters some of them sent to shat- 
 ter the greatest hopes of love the avenue of contact 
 between the mountain folks and the outside world, 
 now as empty and black and hopeless as the letters 
 that never came. On the table back of the letter win- 
 dow, the old metal cancelling stamps are still lying, 
 and the drawers from which postage stamps were 
 counted half open but empty. Perhaps some phil- 
 atelist, with a good "bull's-eye" and plenty of time, in 
 delving among drawers and pigeon-holes, and under 
 the boxes and barrels which clutter the place, might 
 unearth many stamps of "Centennial Year'' or others 
 of even greater rarity. Casselman's Bar P. O. for 
 such it was called is no longer found in the Postal 
 Guides, and the simple dwellers in the surrounding 
 hills have lost a social centre by its premature aban- 
 donment. 
 
 The place never paid. That was the prime cause for 
 its going out of business. It was folly to locate a store, 
 dance hall, hotel and post office off a main thorough- 
 fare where the best paying travel passed it unnoticed, 
 and it never became popular with the watermen, being 
 too far inland. The magnificent foundation, with its 
 huge cellarways, had tempted Jake Heiser to build, 
 but. nothing was gained by its possession, and the rows 
 of empty whiskey barrels and racks of empty wine
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 71 
 
 bottles tell of a stock that was here disposed of slowly, 
 but which would have made the landlord rich if he had 
 located on the pike. 
 
 But it was the ghosts that really closed the I>ar 
 Hotel; one ghost in particular was chiefly responsible. 
 Even from the night the house was first opened noises 
 were heard in the cellar. "Neighbor boys after wine," 
 the landlord thought, for he had kept open house, with 
 open taps on that wild initial night. I kit on repairing to 
 the cellar all was locked as he had left it. As a precau- 
 tion he blocked up with oak planking the subterranean 
 passage-way to the river, but could not quiet the mys- 
 terious noises below stairs. After a while the entire 
 household got used to these subterranean ghosts. 
 "They date from the days when the old fort stood on 
 the foundations," said Cephas Meily, the oldest man 
 in the neighborhood, and he ought to know. In order 
 to make up for the lack of transient travel, the land- 
 lord made a specialty of chicken and waffle and ham 
 and egg suppers, advertising in the town papers, and 
 gradually a select trade of this kind made its rendez- 
 vous at the hotel. The stables were on as big a scale as 
 the house, and sleighing parties and straw rides found 
 ideal accommodations there. In the summer months 
 parties of young people, properly chaperoned, would 
 stop at the hotel for a week at a time. The rooms 
 were large and airy ; there was an excellent table ; the 
 canoeing on the river and berrypicking and mountain 
 climbing, and trout fishing in the brook, made plenty 
 of amusement all day long. In the evening the long
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 shutters of the great churchly windows of the ball 
 room over the store would be thrown open, and the 
 gay young people generally danced until daybreak. 
 
 An old half-Indian named Casper Loop, who ap- 
 peared mysteriously at the hotel the night it was 
 opened, and left the night it was closed, and who acted 
 as hostler and handy-man by day, sang and played the 
 dulcimer, rendering a type of music rare as it was 
 attractive. On one occasion two such primitive 
 "house parties" (there were no "cottages" or "bunga- 
 lows" in the mountains those clays), made up of the 
 younger sets from two towns to the south of Cassel- 
 man's Bar, were stopping at the hotel. They were 
 young people occupying relatively the same social posi- 
 tion in their respective communities, so they soon met 
 on very friendly terms. 
 
 When the parties arrived at the hotel, there were 
 several couples in each group who imagined them- 
 selves madly in love with one another. They had not 
 been long under the same roof when the most deeply 
 involved began casting glances at members of the other 
 party, for all were very young. The quest was now 
 to become acquainted, so that the girls in one party 
 soon were constantly in the society of the boys of the 
 other, and vice versa. 
 
 There was one couple who were on the point of an- 
 nouncing their engagement, and were so constantly 
 together that they were almost the same as extra chap- 
 erones. The young man had never swerved in his de- 
 votion until he arrived at the hotel. Then he saw a
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 73 
 
 brunette in the other party who interested him, and it 
 gave him a peculiar pleasure to make his beloved un- 
 easy and jealous. The girl in the other party was slim 
 and very dark, and' had a downcast look, and could not 
 look one in the eyes like the candid, blue-eyed, brown- 
 haired girl who was unswerving in her love. She de- 
 served better treatment, but many of the best of persons 
 have been made to suffer slights in love, and she was 
 no exception. The house-party, instead of being a 
 delight, became a period of torture. She was heart- 
 broken most of all, yet humiliation entered largely into 
 her grief. She had held her lover in such high esteem, 
 he had never been known to notice another girl ; some 
 of her friends had called him "Old Trusty," from his 
 avowed fidelity. Now all was changed. He made no 
 secret of his devotion to the dark girl, was with her 
 whenever he could, and on several occasions arranged 
 trysts along the river after his sweetheart had retired. 
 It was a desperate case, and the chaperones of both 
 parties discussed it in undertones, how it could be 
 "broken up" and normal conditions revived. All were 
 watching its progress and noting the daily wilting 
 and sorrowing of the neglected one. The rejected 
 felt so chagrined that she kept out of sight whenever 
 possible, even consorting with the help in the kitchen 
 as a pretext to remain in seclusion. 
 
 On one occasion she noted the cook cleaning her 
 great zinc ''sink" with some carbolic acid from a small 
 bottle, and saw her stow it away in the corner cupboard 
 after she was finished. "I could end my misery,"
 
 74 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 throught the wretched girl, ''with what that woman 
 poured down the drain ; it is a good material wasted/' 
 She even tried to get up a flirtation with one of the 
 unmatched lads in her own party, but when she was 
 with him she kept watching her faithless lover so con- 
 tinually that her feigned interest in another was but 
 a transparent fraud. It so happened that as both par- 
 ties were to "break up" within a day of one another, it 
 was decided to have a joint dance in the ball room the 
 "last night" to terminate the joyous holiday. The old 
 dulcimer player was reinforced by two fiddlers, so as 
 to have continuous music all night long. 
 
 It proved to be a glorious affair to all except the 
 discarded girl. She received the most open slights that 
 night, left as a "wall flower" while her erstwhile lover 
 would dance eight dances in succession with her rival. 
 Her earlier and marked preference for her former 
 lover had caused the other lads to be indifferent, and 
 now that she was free, they kept up the custom of 
 avoiding her. She sat on one of the benches against 
 the wall, a picture of misery. Her round, girlish face 
 was crimson, and she kept fanning herself, complain- 
 ing to every one of the heat, though all the windows 
 were open, and a constant breeze blew in from the 
 river, almost a gale. Sometimes she held the fan be- 
 fore her face longer than was necessary, to hide the 
 tears that would not stay back and which she would 
 later wipe away with her little lace handkerchief as 
 "perspiration." It was galling to her to watch her 
 "paragon" whirling around and around with a girl who
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 75 
 
 seemed so callous and unworthy. She longed for the 
 sympathy of her girl friends, but when they tried to 
 be affectionate and consoling pride rebelled and she 
 held them at a distance. She heard the tall clock in 
 the front hall chime twelve. It was during an inter- 
 mission, and its sonorous tones came through the open 
 door below and were wafted through the long win- 
 dows. She was attempting to appear gay, drinking 
 leim.nade with the boy with whom she had tried to flirt. 
 Rut everywhere she looked she saw her lover dancing 
 attention to her rival, the dark girl's air of triumph ; 
 it was all too much, and she felt dizzy. Just then the 
 music began, and she asked to be excused, and in the 
 excitement of choosing partners she slipped out the 
 back door. 
 
 ( )n a shelf in the corridor she found a row of candles ; 
 taking one that was lit she started down the narrow, 
 winding stairway. She was soon in the back kitchen, 
 and in sight of the corner cupboard. She approached 
 it and opened it cautiously the little bottle of deadly 
 poison was still there. She seized the vial, drew the 
 cork and held it to the light. There was not much left 
 in it, but enough to take her across the Styx, she rea- 
 soned. She recorked it, and hiding it in the hollow of 
 her hand with her handkerchief, stood undecided a 
 moment. Should she go to the cellar the door stood 
 before her or go upstairs? The cellar was dark and 
 inhospitable, so she moved through the main hull and 
 up the broad staircase, the hand with the bottle in it 
 rubbing along the walnut balustrade, making a peculiar
 
 76 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 noise, the other holding aloft the candle in its tiny 
 brass dish. She reached the first landing and passed 
 her own room ; at a door nearer the front of the house 
 she paused. It was her lover's chamber, and the door 
 was ajar. She entered and closed the door. The 
 candle light showed the young man's other clothes in 
 disarray about the floor. She gathered them up ten- 
 derly and placed them neatly on a chair. Then she 
 looked in the mirror of the marble-topped dressing 
 stand, so popular in those days. Her face was no 
 longer flushed u baby red," but was almost as pale as 
 death. She arranged her hair carefully, and smoothed 
 her white satin gown. Then she placed the candle on 
 the dresser and climbed carefully on the bed, reclining 
 at full length. She raised the carbolic acid bottle to 
 her lips and took a great gulp. There was an involun- 
 tary cry of pain, and she tossed from side to side, 
 trying to die quietly and bravely, but the agony was 
 excruciating. Soon the merciful Dark Angel drew the 
 curtain, and the candle flickered on the corpse's face, 
 the lips and chin frightfully burned and scarred, but 
 otherwise she was beautiful in the calmness of death. 
 
 The candle was almost burned into its socket when 
 whispered voices were heard in the hall. A feminine 
 voice was saying, "I don't want to go in ; there's a light 
 burning ; some one must be there now." Then a man's 
 voice replied. "Come in ; that must be a candle I left 
 burning when I changed my clothes." Then the youth 
 threw one arm about the girl's shoulder, turned the 
 knob and drew her into the room. As they came
 
 77 
 
 through the door he held aloft a candle. "I told you 
 so," said the girl ; "there's your fiancee lying on the 
 bed. She's fallen asleep waiting for you." The youth 
 was non-plussed ; his former sweetheart had surely 
 showed her great love openly, yet this was the first time 
 that she had been indiscreet; if she woke suddenly and 
 found her rival in the room there would be trouble. 
 He neared the bed only to draw back in horror. He 
 noted the awful livid scars about her mouth, the 
 empty bottle by her side, the greenish pallor of death. 
 The dark girl was now close by his side. One glimpse 
 told her the story. She ran pell mell from the room, 
 and to her own room, where she jumped into bed with 
 her clothes on and pulled the patch-work haps over 
 her head. 
 
 There seemed to be no other course open for the 
 young man but to gather up the dead girl in his arms 
 and carry her to her own room. All the other dancers 
 had' retired earlier, the corridors were still. He laid 
 her on the bed with the empty poison bottle beside her, 
 then returned to his own room, leisurely undressed 
 and retired. He slept the sleep of the soulless until 
 nearly noon the next day, when he went downstairs 
 looking as fresh as if nothing had happened. He saw 
 a jaded party. All were not down yet, but those who 
 were had danced themselves into inertia. Few of the 
 girls looked attractive ; their hair hung in stiff strands, 
 they were black under their eyes and sallow from the 
 night of gayety. Comment was made at dinner time 
 at the discarded sweetheart's tardy appearance.
 
 78 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 One of the chaperones went up and knocked at the 
 door. No response. She knocked again. Taking the 
 door-knob she turned it. The door was not locked. 
 She entered. The shutters were closed, but she could 
 see the girl extended on the bed fully clad. Drawing 
 near she saw the ugly black scars, the empty bottle. 
 With a series of shrieks she ran out of the room and 
 down the hall, alarming every one in the house. Soon 
 the halls and the room were thronged with members 
 of both "house parties,," and none seemed more sur- 
 prised than the one-time lover and his dark enamorita. 
 There were some level-headed persons in the crowd. 
 Their counsels prevailed. They were all people of 
 prominence. The suicide must be kept secret ; the girl's 
 family would concur if they knew the facts. It must 
 go out this way : The girl always had weak lungs ; she 
 was subject to hemorrhages ; she had had one and died, 
 doubtless due to overtaxing herself at the ball. 
 
 In those clays coroners were complaisant and, as 
 new, political influence counted a let, and social position 
 more "quality," as the mountain folks called it, must 
 not he compromised at any cost. The parents concur- 
 red in the plot. The girl wa,s taken home and buried, 
 and a score of young people of leading families in two 
 southern Pennsylvania towns, to say nothing of the 
 two staid chaperones, again breathed easily. It is 
 wonderful how well-bred people stand together in a 
 sort of freemasonry to shield their kind, no matter 
 how black the crimes ; if the perpetrators turn out to 
 be what they dub "gentlemen" or "ladies," all is min-
 
 West Entrance 
 
 to 
 Caledonia Park
 
 M - -.vfii'L up ;j;ui k; "M.vrr at the 
 
 l : \^ Knocked again. T.i\!ng the 
 
 it. ':"hrr door \vas not locked. 
 
 Ute-s % .v*-i'i' closed, but siu- ;".nild 
 
 ! 'I;-. "n:ii fiillv clad. Drawing 
 
 ;. ;.car^. t.hir empty botik. 
 
 k i 1 ran ovil of the room aau 
 
 . one in I 1; u: l','')U>e. Soon 
 
 ;:sr(;,iu"'. :1 \^itli members 
 
 ; ;ii !(: ^c c-ir- . d 'n- rc sur- 
 
 ol 
 
 , '; ' ':. -i tl'c" 
 
 -i>. Jl i~ 
 
 '* r .:cUi.rr in n 
 no Mntk-r 
 
 1 \\\r\- iVJ! I'- 1
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 79 
 
 imized and' condoned, if not denied altogether. Such 
 are the advantages of Prestige ! See Lewis Leopold's 
 great book on this subject. 
 
 But hushing up the story of the suicide of one of the 
 country's most aristocratic belles from pique at a love 
 disappointment did not lay her miserable ghost. The 
 pain that lasts through life was transferred to another 
 world to canker. Every Thursday night at the mid- 
 night hour the rustle of a satin gown is heard on the 
 long stairway leading from the ball room to the back 
 kitchen ; the door of the corner cupboard swings open 
 and shuts, and the swish of skirts and the patter of 
 slippered 1 feet is heard in the great hall. Then comes a 
 sound as if a bottle was being scraped along the 
 balustrades, a door opens and shuts, there comes a 
 weird cry, then all is still, but the falling of the river 
 or the "hoo. hoo, boo" of the great horned owls re- 
 assuring one another among the great dark oaks and 
 birches which screen the old house from the river. 
 
 Intimations of a dark tragedy can hurt a hotel al- 
 most as much as an open declaration ; never too well 
 patronized, the hostelry received what the moun- 
 taineers call a "black eye" and declined stead'ily. The 
 post-office was closed for lack of patronage. The 
 landlord moved out the spring following the alleged 
 suicide. He was tired of hearing ghosts in the cellar; 
 a new one upstairs was one too many. Another tenant 
 could not be found, and the great fortress-like Spanish 
 house built on the foundations of historic Pomfret 
 Castle was left to its ghostly occupants.
 
 80 
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Within the past year a family has moved into the 
 back kitchen. They d'o not like the ghost of the White 
 Lady, as they call her, passing through their room, or 
 rummaging in their cupboard, nor do the noises in the 
 dismal cellars below agree with them but the rent is 
 low, probably only a couple of dollars a month, there 
 is a good garden and truck patch, good water, and a 
 spacious barn, and handy to work, so they are willing 
 to endure the spooks. 
 
 It is said that when the youth responsible for the fair 
 girl's tragic death, now a respected citizen and bank 
 president, passes along the pike at dusk, and his rest- 
 less glances note the ruddy gleam in the kitchen win- 
 dow of tlie great house down the lane, he orders the 
 chauffeur of his big Fierce-Arrow to put en topmost 
 speed ; he has an important meeting he must hurry to 
 at Harrisburg.
 
 VI. The Lost Valley 
 
 IT IS surprising how general is the story of a lost 
 valley, located in a remote section of the Pennsyl- 
 vania Mountains where the various species of wild 
 game have taken refuge, waiting until a time when they 
 can emerge and live in a state of safety. In all sec- 
 tions of the Commonwealth the legend is whispered 
 by the old hunters, and is sincerely believed. 
 
 There is a similar story told concerning Monte 
 Rosa, in the Italian Alps, of how several bold hunters 
 became lost among the mountains, and, peering over a 
 great precipice, seemingly in the very heart of the 
 giant peak, beheld a verdant valley, teeming with the 
 ibex and other game long vanished from most parts of 
 the Alpine regions. 
 
 Few are the persons who have gazed upon the Lost 
 Valley of Pennsylvania, and those who have come to it 
 through sheer stupidity or accident. It cannot be 
 found through quest by a person in his right senses, for 
 the Genius of the mountain bewilders and drives away 
 all seekers for this delectable region. Well does the 
 writer recall not one but three attempts to reach the 
 supposed vicinity of the Lost Valley, only to fail, 
 despite the leadership of such competent guides and 1 
 mountaineers as Jake Zimmerman and Jesse Phillips 
 and others. The writer's search was not to find the 
 Lost Valley, but to visit a supposed beaver working at 
 the head of one of the branches of Lick Run. It had 
 been found by a simple-minded boy named Smith, 
 
 81
 
 82 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 whose father, a lumberman from the Hunter's Run 
 region of the South Mountains, had conducted a 
 logger's shanty not far from the mouth of Lick Run 
 later occupied by our popular out-door Governor 
 William Cryder Sproul as a hunting camp until de- 
 stroyed by a mysterious fire in the fall of 1917. It 
 remained for this half-witted boy not only to visit the 
 beaver working, but to kill one of the beavers, an act 
 of pure wantonness, and later to see the Lost Valley, 
 teeming with game. The writer's modest efforts were 
 only directed to find the scene of the beaver working, 
 and, if located, to take as natural history specimens 
 bits of the aspen trees felled by the busy little workers. 
 Two trips were taken in the early spring and one in 
 the fall, when the leaves were off the trees, so a more 
 extensive view might be had, but the results were 
 baffling, and despite every precaution it seemed impos- 
 sible to get on the proper branch of Lick Run. 
 
 Reader, have you ever noted the Lick Run Gap as it 
 appears from the entire breadth and length of the 
 Buffalo Valley, five miles away? It is t'ne gap of gaps, 
 the noblest of notches ; its form is so different, the 
 camel hump on the mountain on the west side, the 
 high, sharp "grindstone" ridge to the east, the great, 
 rolling outline of the so-called South Mountain be- 
 yond. How majestic and individual it appears from 
 the high hill beyond Youngmanstown, from the pike 
 just north of Dreisbach Church, or from the Chestnut 
 Ridge coming from New Berlin ! Always the same, 
 lordly, grand and mysterious, it shields the greatest
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 83 
 
 mystery in the whole treasure house of Pennsylvania 
 folk-lore and tradition. The writer's third' trip in 
 April, was most carefully planned. But the Genius of 
 the mountain had always a trump card to play. This 
 time it was to cross the creek to examine the carcass 
 of a splendid stag that had been shot the fall before. 
 Its jaw was blown away and it had evidently dragged 
 itself down to the stream to breathe its last at its 
 favorite bed. Never found by the hunters, though said 
 to have been shot by Governor Sproul himself, the 
 carcass lay there, the sport of divers wild cats, all win- 
 ter long, until found by the writer and guides in the 
 early spring of 1917. 
 
 This digression from the straight and narrow path 
 sealed the doom of the search for the beaver working 
 for that day, and though often planned the writer has 
 never had the time to repeat the search. On that occa- 
 sion he was equipped with a diagram drawn by the 
 veteran editor and sportsman of blessed memory, Lew 
 C. Fosnot, who, because of indisposition, remained at 
 the Zimmerman hospice, while the writer and his 
 guides pursued their search for the mysterious pond. In 
 the seventies and eighties Mr. Fosnot on divers grouse 
 and wild turkey hunts had rambled pretty well all over 
 the Xittany and South Mountains, and on one of these 
 trips had come upon the little patch of dead water, 
 which showed unmistakable signs of having been an 
 ancient beaver colony, that many years later was again 
 to be the scene of these busy little creatures' opera- 
 tions.
 
 84 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 It appeared that early in 1913 some lumbermen 
 connected with the White Deer Lumber Company's 
 operations had stumbled across the scene of the activ- 
 ities of the beavers. There were only a single pair of 
 them, and on the next Saturday night related their ex- 
 perience in the crossroads store at Hightown. There 
 were some old hunters present who were pleased to 
 hear of a return of the beavers to the White Deer 
 waters, where none had been since about 1885. Un- 
 fortunately some one in the crowd said that the castors 
 of the beavers were worth one hundred dollars, which 
 made several young boys, including the half-witted 
 lad, who were hanging about the store room, literally 
 prick up their ears. The result was the killing of the 
 female beaver, and the boy's story that he had looked' 
 out across a valley which teemed with every animal 
 and bird known in that section of Pennsylvania in the 
 olden clays, the trees being filled with passenger 
 pigeons in such numbers that they appeared blue. The 
 killing of the beaver and the seeing of the valley sent a 
 number of would-be argonauts into the gap of Lick 
 Run none of them ever found the beaver pond or the 
 surviving beaver, or could they get any idea of the 
 location of the Lost Valley. 
 
 On the writer's third trip to seek out the beaver 
 working, the track was lost by the visit to the carcass 
 of the stag, and after that the party climbed about all 
 over the slopes of the mountains until the signs of 
 approaching evening caused them to turn valleyward, 
 where Zimmerman's mule team stood waiting patiently,
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 85 
 
 tied to a tree near the Sproul camp, to take them back 
 to the genial Jake's commodious home at the heading 
 of Zimmerman's .Run. When it became apparent that 
 no beaver pond would be found that day, the party 
 sat down under a grove of giant original hemlocks, 
 looking out towards Elimsport, and discussed the vari- 
 ous aspects of the baffling situation. 
 
 One of the guides grew reminiscent and told a very 
 curious incident that happened some forty years be- 
 fore, when old Adam Hawk was lumbering in Lick 
 Run Gap. His stone shanty stood not far from where 
 the dead stag was found ; the ruins, much overgrown 
 with briars and wild apple saplings, are still visible. 
 I lawk was cutting original white pine in the gap for 
 Ario Pardee and trailing the logs with oxen to White 
 Deer Creek, where they were floated to the great 
 Pardee saw mill near Watsontown. It was the finest 
 kind of timber. One pine left by Hawk still stands 
 near his ruined cabin. It is truly a "monarch of the 
 glen." 
 
 "It was during his first winter as a jobber on Lick 
 Run,'' said the guide, ''and the timber stood solidly all 
 through the gap, clear to the summit of the South 
 Mountain beyond. The only place where the sunlight 
 could come in was the clearing which Hawk had made 
 for his stone shanty, and the alleged pond away back 
 among the tops of the mountains. It looked to be a 
 four or five-year job, so he concluded to build his camp 
 of stone, his stables of white oak logs. Unlike most 
 lumbermen, Adam Hawk was orderly by nature, his
 
 86 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 buildings were substantial, and everything neat and 
 clean about them. True enough, he only took the 
 choice cuts out of every log, and often left entire trees 
 lying in the woods for slight defects, but the orders of 
 Mike Courtney, Pardee's woods boss, were that de- 
 fective timber did not pay for the handling what 
 they w r asted in those days would have made a dozen 
 millionaires. Hawk's housekeeper was the widow of 
 his brother Hiram, who was killed breaking the great 
 log jam at Lock Haven dam in the spring of '73. He 
 left, besides his widow, several children, but one, a 
 daughter. Hazel, was with her mother at the camp on 
 Lick Run. Hazel was easily the prettiest girl I have 
 ever seen. She had glorious brown eyes with a glint 
 of gold, a great amount of russet hair, a freckled face, 
 with a nose slightly turned up at least, it \vas not like 
 a hatch's bill. She was not very tall, and plump rather 
 than lean. She had winning manners and a smile that 
 was most captivating. As a young boy working on the 
 job, I always admired her, and would have declared 
 myself the first time I saw her, only I knew that her 
 heart was elsewhere. She was between fifteen and 
 sixteen yer-rs of age, I should imagine, but in the 
 mountains that is the age when most girls are thinking 
 of getting married. She \vas much in love with a boy 
 a few years older than herself, who lived across the 
 mountains in White Deer Hole Valley, just below 
 where old Cassie George, the woman hermit, had her 
 log cabin. Hazel had met him the winter before while 
 at her uncle's camp near the Fourth Gap, where for
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 87 
 
 several years he had a lumber job for the elder John 
 DuBois. 
 
 "'For some reason Hazel's mother professed to dislike 
 the youth, or perhaps did not want her to marry so 
 soon and leave her. She was very bitter against him, 
 and forbid him to visit the camp, but sometimes when 
 Hazel would stroll up to the home of her friend Black 
 Agnes Dunbar, near the mouth of Fourth Gap, on 
 Sunday afternoons, after work was done, he would 
 appear there, and they would pass a couple of pleasant 
 hours together. We called Agnes 'Black Agnes' be- 
 cause of the intense blackness of her hair, though the 
 local school teacher said that there was a character of 
 that name in history. I have never seen its equal for 
 balckness before or since. If Hazel's mother had 
 known of these meetings, there would have been great 
 ructions, but she never found them out as far as I 
 know, and she kept on forbidding her daughter to see 
 the boy. and ridiculing him, until the job was finished, 
 and they moved to Lock Haven and then to Lick Run. 
 Whether the mother was a good judge of character is 
 best answered by the fact that the despised boy went 
 to Pittsburg and became a leading lawyer, and for 
 many terms a member of Congress. He is now very 
 wealthy. Jind moves in good society. It seems a pity to 
 break up a case of first love, for we only live once, and 
 cannot for the life of us blot out these early memories 
 and aspirations. We are probably rewarded for our 
 abnegation in the next world'! 
 
 "The Widow Hiawk seemed pleased when the news
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 came that her brother-in-law had secured the contract 
 on Lick Run, for she loved the life in the forests, and 
 the ranges of mountains which lay between the camp 
 and the Valley of South Creek would be effectual 
 barriers to any continuance of her daughter's romance 
 with the undesirable lover. The autumn tints were 
 bright among the gray birches, beeches and tulip trees 
 along White Deer Creek, in contrast to the darkness 
 of the hemlocks, as they drove from Logansville 
 (now Loganton) to the new camp. It was a beau- 
 tiful drive, the zest of which was added to by old 
 Adam Hawk handing the lines over to his niece in 
 order to pick up his rifle and shoot the head off a fine 
 wild turkey gobbler, or 'Bubbly Jock/ which was 
 crossing the road near the Sand Spring. All were 
 pleased with the substantial-looking stone house, with 
 its red tiled roof, and the solid-looking log stable, so 
 much in contrast to the usual flimsy construction of 
 lumbermen's buildings. It would be an 'all-year- 
 round' camp, as in the summer months hemlock bark 
 could be peeled if the price kept up. 
 
 "Hazel looked south from the house to where the 
 mountains gradually rose, ridge upon ridge, to the 
 final culmination close to the clouds, known as 'South 
 Mountain,' and thought of her lover, and that such a 
 barrier could be dissolved by the will of love. She 
 probably wasn't at all sentimental, was of a jolly and 
 matter-of-fact disposition, yet the greatest aspirations 
 of her nature welled up in her just at that moment. 
 When with her mother she had driven past her lover's
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 89 
 
 home, after the Fourth Gap job was closed, she had 
 felt that she would never see him again. As they left 
 the valley her mother had said, rather harshly, 'Take a 
 good look, Hazel, for you will never visit that valley 
 again, not if I have anything to say about it.' Now, 
 after an interval of a year, they were located directly 
 south of the forbidden valley, with only mountains 
 intervening. The first Sunday afternoon at the Lick 
 Run camp most of the crew took naps, soothed by the 
 genial warmth of spirit of Indian summer. Hazel's 
 mother was among the sleepers. Others went for 
 walks. Hazel said that she wanted to climb to the 
 top of the mountain, but I did not take the hint and 
 go with her, as I was not in sympathy with her mis- 
 sion. 
 
 "Taking a small Indian basket, and walking ahead 
 of some of the young men who were going to gather 
 chestnuts, she started up the steep path leading to- 
 wards the giant backbone of South Mountain, every 
 step revealing her trim ankles and the rounded out- 
 lines of her figure. The air had just enough crispness 
 to it to prevent fatigue, and there were copious springs 
 along the way to alleviate thirst, consequently it did. not 
 overtax her to reach the mighty eminence and look 
 down on White Deer Hole Valley, and through the 
 openings of the trees see the tiny speck which was her 
 lover's home nestling at the foot of the Muncy Moun- 
 tain on the far side of the valley. Seated on a icg, 
 under the biggest hemlock tree on the mountain top, 
 listening to the 'twee, twee, twee' of the wild pigeons
 
 90 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 in the dark, shaggy branches, she feasted her glorious 
 brown eyes on the scenes she loved so well. Suddenly 
 she heard a cracking of twigs, and her heart gave a 
 jump. Could a bear be coming after her? It was a 
 reckless act to be all alone in such a wilderness. Be- 
 fore she could get up, a pair of hands were clapped 
 over her eyes from behind, and a familiar voice said : 
 'Guess who is here !' 'I thought you were a bear. I 
 almost died of fright ; now I am dying of joy,' replied 
 H'azel. It was a gladsome meeting, and the moment- 
 sped by rapidly, until soon the lengthening shadows 
 betokened the coming sunset. 'Oh, I must be hurrying 
 back/ said Hazel, 'and I haven't a single chestnut in 
 my basket; if I return empty-handed mother will sus- 
 pect me.' 'Don't worry,' replied the young man. 'My 
 pockets are full,' and he emptied them into the basket 
 until it was filled to the point of overflowing. They 
 then started across the flat summit of the mountain, 
 towards the gorge of Lick Run. 'You must not come 
 too far with me,' said the girl, 'lest we meet some of 
 the chestnut-pickers from the camp, and they might 
 accidentally let it out at the supper table.' The shad- 
 ows were falling fast, and Hazel kept urging her lover 
 to turn back. 'I know the way down the hollow : the 
 path is clearly marked, and I'm so afraid if mother 
 finds this out she will never let me take any more 
 walks. This way I can meet you again next Sunday 
 afternoon.' The lover, realizing the wisdom of her 
 words, kissed her many times and reluctantly turned 
 on his heel.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 91 
 
 "Hazel, left alone, redoubled her pace, but she had 
 walked so slowly with her lover that she could not 
 reach the brink of the gorge before darkness fell. 
 I Jut she kept on and on. Was ever a plateau so wide 
 and dreary ? Were there such big or black trees 
 elsewhere? Soon it became pitchy dark, and yet the 
 trail did not dip downwards toward Lick Run. Hazel, 
 at first worried, began to feel hysterical. She thought 
 of her mother's wrath, and the ending of all hopes for 
 future meetings with her lover. Why had she stayed 
 so long? It had only taken her an hour and a half to 
 climb to the top of the mountain ; how did it take so 
 much longer to return ? She kept on walking and 
 walking. A fe\v stars came out, disclosing the path. 
 It looked natural and she seemed to be going in the 
 right direction. At length she came to a pool, sur- 
 rounded by giant gum trees, whojse bare, twisted 
 trunks and branches stood out like ghosts against the 
 cold starlight. A natural crossing or breast was near 
 the outlet of the pond; surely that rivulet was one of 
 the headings of Lick Run ; if she followed its course 
 she would come out at the main stream, and thence 
 to the camp. She decided' to follow the path, on across 
 the table land. She kept on and on. Where could 
 this path lead her out? It seemed as if she was walk- 
 ing all night, for the stars began to fade into the sky, 
 and she felt desperately tired. Streaks of rose pink 
 appeared in the east, yet she kept on and on. At 
 length the path began to dip downwards ; she must be 
 on the way home at last. She came to the verge of a
 
 92 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 tremendous precipice, but it was all obscured' with fog. 
 Only the rough tops of a few old yellow pines ap- 
 peared above, and Hazel hesitated about descending 
 into this crater. She sat down on a bed of moss, too 
 bewildered to go further. Gradually the fog lifted, 
 and the lost girl, despite her utmost efforts, fell asleep. 
 When she awoke it was broad daylight, and the haze 
 of Indian summer touched the whole landscape with a 
 lilac veil. Down below her opened a vast crater-like 
 'kettle,' or valley, part in open meadows, part in for- 
 est. From the sides ran several milky waterfalls, 
 which spread out into pools and disappeared into 
 crevices at the bottom of the valley, like Engler's 
 Falls in Nippenose Valley. As her eyes became accus- 
 tomed to the vastness and grandeur of the view, she 
 noticed great numbers of animals and birds, of kinds 
 she had never seen or heard of. But she did notice 
 herds of shaggy buffaloes, groups of moose, elks and a 
 larger variety of deer than inhabited these mountains. 
 Along the slopes of the great cavity moved huge, 
 tawny panthers, wolves, red bears, white bears, lynxes, 
 wild cats and other animals. Beavers had a long 
 series of dams on the streams before they disappeared 
 into the depths of the valley. Above soared the lordly 
 bald eagles and golden eagles, and innumerable varie- 
 ties of hawks and other bird's flew" hither and thither. 
 It was a hunter's paradise. Hazel gazed at this un- 
 usual scene fascinated. She forgot her earlier hunger, 
 and was no longer tired. She had heard that a stray 
 red bear had been killed in the White Deer Creek re-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 93 
 
 gion, and beavers and wolves and panthers were occa- 
 sionally seen. All these rare forms must come from 
 this Lost Valley. Why had no gunners ever found this 
 happy hunting ground, where was it located, that it 
 was so difficult not only to find, but to get away from ? 
 She sat there all day long, charmed by this glimpse of 
 the pristine wilderness. She was neither hungry, 
 thirsty, cold or tired, and she went gently to sleep 
 when night fell. The next day she continued her ob- 
 servations, endeavoring to count the numbers of the 
 various larger animals and birds. The trees were 
 most remarkable, used as she was to forests or enor- 
 mous original white pines and hemlocks. These trees 
 were veritable titans, and floating among them were 
 innumerable flocks of wild pigeons. Here and there 
 the bright green and 1 orange tints betokened the pres- 
 ence of great numbers of Carolina parrots. 
 
 As the afternoon progressed Hazel gathered herself 
 together, resolved to resume the long journey to Lick 
 Run. There was nothing to do but to retrace her steps 
 to the pond, and follow the stream until it joined Lick 
 Run ; she would soon be home then. When she 
 reached the pond she noticed that about a dozen 
 beavers were at work along its banks, felling aspen 
 trees and building dams. At the breast of the lower 
 dam she walked into the bed of the runnel, and fol- 
 lowed it down its jungled bed. The spell of the moun- 
 tain soon began to leave her ; she began to feel terribly 
 tired and hungry again ; her feet ached so that she had 
 to repeatedly lean against trees to rest herself. It was
 
 94 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 all she could do to continue, but she kept on until it 
 grew dark. She was so tired and nervous that she 
 wept copiously. At length, through the gloom, she 
 heard shouts and several rifle shots ; evidently a 
 searching party was out after her. Gathering together 
 all her strength, Hazel answered at the top of he r 
 voice, and to her infinite relief was replied to she was 
 saved. Sitting on a log which lay across the streamlet", 
 she waited for her deliverers. At last she could hear 
 their voices as they drew ,nearer. Armed with lanterns 
 and' torches, the party clambered through the brush, 
 under the overhanging boughs of the hemlocks, up to 
 where she sat. In the party she recognized about 
 every member of the lumber crew, headed by her uncle. 
 They were overjoyed to see her, and eagerly asked 
 her story. She held up her basket full of chestnuts as 
 evidence of her truthfulness to prove why she had lost 
 her way. She was so exhausted when they found 
 her that the young woodsmen, including myself, took 
 turns carrying her a delicious burden, to be sure 
 down the glen until they came out on the main stream 
 of Lick Run. As they bore her along she told of her 
 adventures, the beaver dam, and the Lost Valley teem- 
 ing with game. It seemed incredible ; perhaps she was 
 overwrought by her night in the wilderness, so they 
 humored her, yet each secretly hoping that what she 
 said was true, for they were all hunters. When she 
 saw the light in the window at the stone cabin, gleam- 
 ing through the gloom, a veritable 'star of the glen.' 
 Hazel's joy knew no bounds. The men shouted, and
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 95 
 
 the dogs began to bark. Hazel's mother ran out and 
 was so overjoyed to have her girl back again that she 
 never uttered a word of reproof. It was all like a 
 great big love feast around the lamplit supper table 
 on which the best red tablecloth was spread. During 
 the meal Hazel repeated her marvelous story, and as 
 no one present had ever been in that locality before 
 there was no one to deny her assertions. 
 
 "The next day Hazel awoke none the worse for her 
 outing, but found that all the men in the camp had 
 'knocked off' work for the day and gone in search of 
 the Lost Valley. They came back long after dark, 
 unsuccessful, but they could not shake the girl's story, 
 and those glorious brown eyes shot with gold beamed 
 only candor and truthfulness. Old residents, including 
 the venerable tavern keeper, Jake Zimmerman, at Tea 
 Springs, grandfather of the present 'Jake/ were ap- 
 pealed to, but none could approximate the location of 
 the Lost Valley, though they remembered the little 
 pond on the high table land. Hazel never receded an 
 inch in her story, yet she never returned to the moun- 
 tain. The strangeness and terror of her experience 
 appalled her, and she began to even doubt in her heart 
 if the meeting with her lover had been a reality. 
 
 "The following autumn she married a reputable 
 young man in Lock Haven, and now lives in Sones- 
 town, above \Yilliamsport. 
 
 "A third of a century later. Smith, the half-witted 
 boy, found the beaver pond, saw the Lost Valley, 
 which he described exactly as Hazel Hawk had done, 
 and went her one better by returning and killing one
 
 96 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 of the beavers and taking a second look at the valley 
 on the way back. He could not induce any of the crew 
 at his father's camp to return with him to the moun- 
 tain, but as his story was gossiped about, a fresh im- 
 petus was given to seekers for the Lost Valley." 
 
 The guide paused, took a puff at his \Y. H. Mayer 
 cigar, then added: "We must not give up the quest. 
 After you are back from the war, and peace is de- 
 clared, and we all have more time, we will make a 
 systematic search for that pond until we find it, even 
 if we have to stretch a cordon of men across that 
 whole upland territory. I fully believe that the red 
 bear which Edgar Schwenk killed on the Buffalo Path 
 in" the fall of 1912 wandered from the Lost Valley, as 
 did the beaver which the Smith boy shot in 1013." 
 
 It was growing late, and the third attempt on the 
 part of the writer to locate the beaver pond above Lick 
 Run had ended in failure, yet to live on as a hope de- 
 ferred until more favorable conditions would render 
 another search party possible.
 
 VII. Whippoorwill's Shoes 
 
 OLD "BLACK LAURA," a deformed squaw of 
 the Lenni Lenape persuasion, whom the gifted 
 historian, Walker L. Stephen, in his interesting 
 paper on ''Walnut Tree Tradition" describes as "sit- 
 ting in front of Reading's first Lutheran Church a 
 log structure where now Trinity parsonage graces the 
 corner of Church and Washington Streets and sold 
 walnut leaves wherewith to cure fever and small-pox 
 by concocting a tea for internal and external use," was 
 also a flower seller of no mean ability. Her specialty 
 were the rare, exotic orchids and similar flowers, 
 which were then, as now, found principally along the 
 Blue Mountains. At the proper season the twisted oTd 
 woman would appear with a basket of cypripedium 
 pubescens, called today "Yellow Lady Slippers," but 
 ir the old days Moccasin flowers, or Whippoorwill's 
 Shoes, the roots carefully wrapped in moss. They 
 were called moccasin flowers because of an old tradi- 
 tion which Black Laura said her mother told her when 
 residing along the upper reaches of the Conococheague, 
 and whippoorwill shoes because they bloomed when 
 those weird night birds were at their most controver- 
 sial period. Needless to say, the old Indian herbalist 
 knew many legends, but few persons took the trouble 
 to converse with her. She had her regular customers 
 for walnut leaves and Blue Mountain tea and for her 
 rare flowers, which members of the first families of 
 Reading Hiesters, Muhlenbergs, Clymers, Biddies, 
 
 97
 
 98 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Hillegases and Nagles liked to plant in shady places 
 in their front yards ; but the whippoorwilFs shoe was 
 a true child of the forest and a rebel, and refused to 
 reproduce itself in captivity, no matter how charming 
 were the hands that planted it. 
 
 There was one young lady, a scion of an ancient 
 house of Burston, for whom the old' squaw had a par- 
 ticular liking. On her way to and from the Quaker 
 Meeting House on Sixth Street she would stop and 
 say a pleasant word to the palsied old woman, and 
 was a good customer as well. One day when she sold 
 her entire basket of whippoorwill shoes to this fair 
 lady bountiful, she said : "I have a mind not to charge 
 you a penny for those flowers ; they are yours by right, 
 for you remind me so much of what I have heard my 
 old mother say of the beautiful young girl who was the 
 origin of those flowers only she was more wild and 
 wayward than you." "Thee does not know me," said 
 the pale Quaker lady, blushing. "We Friends are 
 really human underneath our bonnets. We have red 
 blood in our grays and drabs. But come home with 
 me," she added, "and set out the flowers as they should 
 be planted, under the old white pine in our front yard, 
 and then while thce are placing them perhaps will 
 tell me the story of the girl who resembled me, for I 
 confess that what you say interests me mightily, for 
 of all flowers I love most the whippoorwill shoes." 
 
 Picking up the old squaw's basket and bundle, she 
 led her across town, the old crooked woman hobbling 
 and bobbing along with her iromvood cane, towards
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 99 
 
 the spacious mansion overlooking the Schuylkill, 
 where the ancient Quaker family resided. The flow- 
 ers were planted in rich soil in the lea of the old 
 original white pine. Then the young girl said : "Come, 
 Black Laura ; the sun is very hot ; let us sit on the 
 porch and while resting tell me thy story." 
 
 Comfortably seated in the shade the old, weazened 
 creature began her narrative. It was hard to talk so 
 much, and at times she was lacking in English words, 
 but she always found a Dutch equivalent, so the nar- 
 rative did not lag. 
 
 "When my mother was a very young girl," she be- 
 gan, "she lived with her parents at the lower end of 
 the Kittochtinny range of mountains, not far from the 
 upper waters of the Conococheague. Nearby, on a 
 flat, by the stream, lived the great Chief Octararo, 
 whose name still survives in a beautiful creek yonder 
 across the South Mountains (of Berks and Lancaster 
 Counties). He was not a warrior, but his influence 
 over his people was mainly due to his knowledge of 
 magic. He could cast spells and change people by 
 that I mean he could make people do his bidding, 
 whether they wanted to or not, or turn them into ani- 
 mals or birds or even trees. He was proud of his 
 power, and very overbearing and disagreeable. He 
 was so generally feared that he achieved more of a 
 sway over his people than many another chief who 
 might be more human in his conduct. He had five 
 daughters, who, despite his powers at changing, w r ere 
 ugly to look at, and cruel and selfish by nature. They
 
 100 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 were spoiled, had everything their own way, and were 
 constantly quarreling among themselves much as idle 
 rich white girls do, who have not the calm spirit of the 
 Original People. Before I was born, a white family 
 moved about a mile down the stream from the lodge- 
 house of Octararo. The Indian- and his family re- 
 sented this intrusion, but as the Quakers and Indians 
 were living in perfect amity the first William Penn 
 was still in the flesh there could be no measures 
 taken to drive the pale faces away. 
 
 The white couple had a daughter who even the 
 Indians thought very beautiful. My mother used to 
 creep through the tall brush to gaze at her before I 
 was born, hoping that I would look like her, but, alas ! 
 the spell, which Octararo cast on the fair girl's young 
 life blighted me also, so that every joint in my poor 
 body is a misfit. But I think I have something of her 
 disposition, for she was kindly. She was wonderful to 
 look at, so I have heard my mother say a hundred 
 times, and she had seen many white women of degree 
 when she lived near the T'ri-Mountain Road, where 
 most all the travel to the west went by. - I don't know 
 the girl's name, but from the first time I saw you I 
 have called her 'Elgie' your name because you are 
 so much like her. Her hair was very soft and very 
 black, as were her eyebrows and long lashes, but her 
 face was as white as that white-washed fence along 
 the garden, and her deepset gray eyes always had that 
 thoughtful look of flowers in afternoon. Her nose 
 was turned up just a little at the end, and her mouth
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 101 
 
 was very red. She was not so very tall, but so smooth 
 and white and shapely ! My mother longed for such a 
 daughter, but Octararo's deviltry made me what I am ! 
 But I am not dissatisfied. In seeing you I have found 
 a mirror of my dreams, and I would rather see you 
 young, with life before you, than be that lovely Elgie 
 myself. There was a large pool of dead water across 
 the meadow from Octararo's abode, shaded with the 
 biggest buttonwood trees I have ever seen, with sloping 
 grassy banks, which were covered with all kinds of 
 flowers in the springtime. This was the favorite bath- 
 ing place of Octararo's five ill-favored daughters. 
 They let it be known that no person dare bathe in that 
 pool under penalty of being changed into some hideous 
 shape, and, needless to say, their privacy was not in- 
 vaded'. When the white family moved into the valley 
 my mother told the story, which amused them greatly. 
 'How very foolish,' said the pioneer, stroking his long, 
 dark beard. 'However, if it is the wish of Octararo 
 that no one but his family use that pool, neither my 
 family or I would think of disturbing them.' 
 
 "Elgie, who was about seventeen, was a girl of active 
 temperament, and secretly resented this Indian over- 
 lordship. She liked to feel that the scope of the valley 
 was hers. She hated a forbidden district, when all the 
 woods should be free. One afternoon in May, it was a 
 warm day. much as today, and Elgie was walking 
 along the stream, proud in the display of a pair of 
 elegantly beaded moccasins which my admiring mother 
 had made and given her, and wearing only a blue
 
 102 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 denham smock which came half-way to her knees, 
 she noted the calm, cooling waters of the forbidden 
 pool. She looked about. No one was to be seen. Not 
 a sound came from the chief's long lodge-house across 
 the meadow. Might she not risk it and jump in just 
 for five minutes? Looking about again to make sure 
 of her privacy, she pulled her smock over her head 
 and stood poised on the bank. Then she thought of 
 her wonderful moccasins, and, stooping down, she 
 untied them and took them off, carefully placing each 
 on little twigs which overhung the water. She splashed 
 in. and was soon up to her neck in the cool, refreshing 
 waters of Conococheague. In the midst of her en- 
 joyment she heard voices. Looking up, she beheld the 
 five ugly daughters of Octararo approaching. How 
 hideous they were short and squat, with huge fea- 
 tures and enormous heads ! They were already men 
 acing her with coarse epithets, half in English, half in 
 German. There was no time to be lost. Elgie forced 
 her way through the water to the bank, sprang up it, 
 and, picking up her smock, slid it over her head. There 
 was no time to rescue the pretty moccasins. Flight 
 was the only course left open. How she ran across 
 that meadow, under the big trees ! A Halcyon raced 
 her, rattling loudly. 'Can it be,' she thought, as she 
 locked up at the uncouth bird, 'that it is some poor 
 soul whom Octararo found in his pool and changed ?' 
 She was out of breath and sank down on a bench out- 
 side her home, her pretty white feet cut and bleeding, 
 for she had had no choice of steps. She had never
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 103 
 
 looked back once, but when she sat down she was 
 facing the direction from whence she come on her mad 
 race and was relieved when no pursuers hove in sight. 
 
 "She was resting there, trying to appear uncon- 
 cerned, smoothing the masses of hair at the sides of 
 her head, when her father emerged from the cabin. 
 As if to amuse him she related her adventure with the 
 ugly daughters of Octararo. While she was talking 
 her mother appeared in the doorway to listen to the 
 recital. Instead of laughter, the Quaker's face dark- 
 ened, and he looked grievously provoked. 'Thee has 
 disobeyed my orders, girl,' he said, 'and little know 
 what the consequences may be. We were only allowed 
 to settle here on condition that we observed all the 
 rules laid down by our Indian neighbors.' 
 
 ' '1 detest such a life of bondage. Those Indians 
 are only savages. Why can they dictate to us?' broke 
 in Elgie, with considerable spirit. 
 
 "The father looked at the girl sternly, then turning 
 to the mother, said, '\Yhip-her-well.' Picking up his 
 king rifle he started off towards the forest as if not 
 caring to witness the cruel punishment which he 
 had decreed. The mother made no move to start 
 proceedings. Either she disapproved of the chas- 
 tisement or concluded to wait until bed-time, when 
 she could have more time and lay her over a chest and 
 whip her well until her arms became tired, as was the 
 custom of the mountain people. The mother soon 
 returned to her tasks indoors. Elgie, left to her own 
 devices, bethought herself, as she kicked her heels
 
 104 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 together, of the life circumscribed to conform to the 
 whims of Indians, of the indignity of a possible whip- 
 ping, and concluded to run away. She thought of her 
 wonderful moccasins what would the friendly squaw 
 say who made them and presented them to her, if she 
 disappeared without them ? Enough time had elapsed 
 for the chief's ugly daughters to have finished their 
 ablutions and returned for supper to the lodge-house. 
 The days were still short, and she could reach the pool 
 before dusk, recover her moccasins and slip off un- 
 noticed. She would go somewhere, perhaps to her 
 grandmother's home on Piney Mountain for a few 
 weeks. It was a foolish plan to run away in a wil- 
 derness, but Elgie was all upset ; the chase by the 
 girls, and the hard race to escape, the unsympathetic 
 behavior of her father and mother, the thought that 
 she was too old to be whipped, all excited her, and she 
 became reckless enough even to penetrate into the 
 home of Octararo himself if occasion demanded. 
 
 "Cautiously she walked along the bank, the last rays 
 of the setting sun shining through the budding 
 branches of the old trees. There was a sweetness to 
 the atmosphere, the breath of Nature yawning after 
 her long sleep. As she neared the pool and gazed 
 across the meadow she saw a tail of smoke arising 
 from the lodge-house. Evidently the horrid girls were 
 getting supper. There was no cause for alarm. 
 Elgie's life had been very narrow in her backwoods 
 environment, and the moccasins assumed greater im- 
 portance than they would have done at another time
 
 Caledonia Park, 
 
 General 
 
 View
 
 AIN Sl> KTi.'U 
 
 wsiV 
 
 to conform to thr 
 f a po>*.iblt: vvhip- 
 '!>: tbof'^ht of her 
 ;tH' friendly squaw 
 ii;ni TO her, if she 
 "n time Had elapsed 
 liave finished their 
 1--.I tlit lodge-b.ou.se. 
 >nl(i reach the poo' 
 
 ; 'j.\'i(\ slip off un- 
 
 -, 
 
 -na;i-: to her 
 
 . ( t ')V I) f('\\, r 
 
 '.i\ in a "-il- 
 
 r or alarm.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 105 
 
 and place. She was glad to risk her safety to secure 
 them, for she had owned little of what might be called 
 finery. She began to quicken her steps, saying to her- 
 self : 'The folks expect me back for supper. If I am 
 not there they will start out to hunt me. I must put 
 enough distance between us so as to give me time to 
 escape. Let them stay and live under the rule of those 
 horrible Indians.' Soon she spied the moccasins, still 
 hanging side by side on two tiny whitewood bushes. 
 She rushed forward, leaning over to grasp them. Just 
 then she heard the twigs crack. 'Could it be father 
 after me ?' she thought. Her heart beat and she looked 
 up nervously. Beside her stood the great, dark form 
 of Octararo himself. The huge Indian was in a tower- 
 ing rage. 
 
 " 'What do you mean by coming to this private pool, 
 not once, but twice in one clay? Has not your father 
 warned you to keep away from my possessions? I 
 have a mind to throw you into the pool which you 
 seem to love so well and hold you under until you are 
 drowned. I have a mind to turn you over to my 
 daughters to tear you to pieces. I wish I knew of a 
 punishment severe enough to answer your froward 
 conduct.' 
 
 "Poor Elgie was crushed to the earth by this un- 
 manly tirade, and hung her pretty head. Not a word 
 could she say. 
 
 '' 'I believe that I willlock you up in my house, and 
 tell your father to come and get you, and if he doesn't 
 make you suffer, I will report him to William Penn.
 
 106 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 "Elgie thought that the chief was beginning to 
 modify the extent of his threats and raised her head 
 with renewed courage. As she did he reached out his 
 arms, saying: 'You are too beautiful to harm; take 
 your shoes and go your way in peace.' 
 
 "Just at that moment they beheld the five ugly girls 
 coming across the meadow to join their father. They 
 quickened their pace when they saw with whom he was 
 talking, and soon surrounded him, jabbering to him 
 in the Lenni-Lenape tongue, and making, from the 
 rising tones of their voices, ugly threats. The chief 
 soon repented of his kind offer, and saw that he must 
 punish the white girl severely in order to keep peace 
 with his daughters. He knew that they were jealous 
 of Elgie's white skin and matchless beauty, and had 
 long plotted her destruction. Pushing his way through 
 the mob of shrieking ugliness, he came very near to 
 Elgie again. 
 
 " 'Girl,' he said, in stern tones, you have committed 
 an offense for which there can be no forgiveness. I 
 will punish you in a way so that you will always re- 
 member your crime.' Looking at her steadfastly, she 
 became as if rooted to the spot, experiencing queer 
 pains, like 'growing pains,' all through her body. As 
 he looked at her. her skin began to coarsen, feathers 
 appeared, her arms became wings, and her pretty feet 
 ugly black claws. Even her mentality changed. She 
 did not appear to realize the enormity of the change 
 that had come to her. It was not long before she be- 
 came a large, dark-brown bird, and with wobbly, un-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 107 
 
 steady flight arose into the dusk, and, reversing her 
 earlier intention, started to fly homeward. Her pa- 
 rents were the best friends after all. 
 
 "As she reached the cabin, she saw the old folks 
 outside, apparently looking for her. The open hearth 
 supported a goodly fire. Evidently supper was nearly 
 ready. At the sight of them she tried to utter a cry, 
 but it died away in a sound like the gargling of a 
 throat, and she fell in a heap before them, flopping 
 about on the ground. Both father and mother, 
 divining the tragedy, ran forward to pick up the poor 
 wounded bird, but as they touched her they uttered 
 terrible screams and quickly turned into birds, away 
 from the sight of which 'Elgie' rose into the air, 
 sobbing with inarticulate misery. The parents flew 
 after her, with painful, unsteady motions, the father 
 calling to his wife, '\\ hip-her-well, whip-her-well.' But 
 'Elgie' kept ahead of them, and they circled about 
 through the pearly dusk, finally sinking down on 
 branches of trees to rest, when it became dark. Oc 
 tararo had wreaked a horrible vengeance, not only 
 changing the girl into a bird, but endowing her with 
 the property of also unwillingly changing her parents 
 on touching her. 
 
 "The next evening, when Octararo and his five ugly 
 daughters were seated on deer skins in front of thei r 
 cabin smoking long pipes, three ridiculously unsteady 
 birds appeared in the silver sky of twilight. They were 
 full grown birds, but their wings were as badly man-
 
 108 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 aged as if they were fresh from the nest. The two 
 larger birds kept chasing one that was slightly slimmer 
 and smaller, and with each dive and circle would call 
 out in strident tones, 'Whip-her-well, whip-her-well/ 
 but they never seemed to catch up with her, though she 
 was as clumsy of flight as they. 
 
 "Old Octararo chuckled and pointed up to the birds ; 
 the girls understood and laughed uproariously. 'I hope 
 they catch her and whip her well/ said the ugliest girl, 
 as she almost expired with merriment. Their sacred 
 precincts had been invaded, but the trespassers were 
 punished. And from that time on this sad, mournful 
 bird of the dusk has been known as the 'whip-her-well/ 
 from its cry on the wing. There appeared simultan- 
 eously a wonderful new orchid by the streams, which 
 came to be called moccasin flowers, or whip-her-well 
 shoes, by the Indians, 'yellow lady slippers' by the 
 whites. The beautiful white girl of the Conococheague 
 won a deathless heritage, but it does seem that her 
 punishment was more than she deserved." 
 
 "And dost thee think that there is such a fate in 
 store for me ?" said the real Elgie, rather timidly look- 
 ing at Black Laura from under her long lashes. 
 
 "I do not, dear," replied the deformed squaw. "I 
 believe that the curse will end through you. Your 
 beauty, so much like the poor girl I have told you of, 
 coming into this world to refesh it, will release the im- 
 prisoned spirits from Octararo's unjust spell."
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 109 
 
 Elgie Burston often thought of the old squaw's pre- 
 diction years afterwards as she heard the "whip-her- 
 wells" crying on the wing in the summer evenings as 
 they flitted across the lawn. Black Laura's hopeful 
 sentiment was not realized, and the birds' penance is 
 still going on, and will go on as long as there is rustic 
 countryside enough left in Pennsylvania to shelter the 
 mournful birds, or deep meadow woods to nourish the 
 beautiful moccasin flowers, or "whip-her-well shoes."
 
 VIII. The Star of the Glen 
 
 ANDREW CONTARINE was" a young Ulster 
 Scot who established himself as a dealer in 
 jewelry and precious stones at Harris' Ferry, 
 later known as Louisbourg, and now as Harrisburg. 
 He was a well-educated youth, and took credit that his 
 grandfather, the Rev. Thomas Contarine, had been 
 the friend and correspondent of the celebrated Oliver 
 Goldsmith. Hearing of the great activity of business 
 and the abundance of money in the Ohio River Valley, 
 he decided to transfer his energies to the newer town 
 of Pittsburg. Accordingly, accompanied by clerk and 
 a servant, he started overland for the future Iron 
 City. His stock and personal belongings were loaded 
 on two horses, while the three members of the party- 
 were also mounted on good, serviceable steeds. These 
 were rented from a packing company at Harrisburg, 
 and were to be turned over to the agents of the con 
 cern at Pittsburg. They would bait the animals and 1 
 put up at the inns recommended by the packers. Tlr* 
 route to be traversed was from "the Ferry" to Carlisle, 
 to Upper Strasburg, across the Broad Mountains to 
 Horse Valley, across Kittochtinny Mountain to Path 
 Valley and Fannettsburg, over the Tuscarora Moun- 
 tain to Burnt Cabins, thence to Fort Littleton, and 
 along what is now the Lincoln Highway to Pittsburg. 
 From Upper Strasburg to Burnt Cabins the trail was 
 then called, and is still known as the Tri-Mountain 
 Road, and from Fort Littleton the route traversed the 
 
 110
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 111 
 
 famous line of march of Forbes and Bouquet when they 
 marched west to capture Fort Duquesne in 1758, and 
 later when Colonel Bouquet returned to relieve Fort 
 Pitt from pressure from the French and Indians in 
 1763. 
 
 Andrew Contarine was of a cheerful and agreea- 
 ble disposition, a lover of natural scenery and outdoor 
 life, consequently the trip promised to be most agree- 
 able to him. His clerk and servant were both non- 
 resisting Quakers, but the perils of the road were re- 
 duced to practically nothing by the orderly regime of 
 the Confederation. He was not entirely unarmed on 
 the journey, for in one of his packing cases was a set 
 of Irish dueling pistols and a gentleman's sword cane, 
 also a new Lancaster rifle, in case he wished to hunt 
 big game in the wilder parts of the western country. 
 l)tit on his person he carried nothing except a heavy 
 brass match-box, or tinder box, which was in one of 
 his hi]> pockets. He had intended to get a good flint 
 lock pistol, in case a bear or wolf crossed the road, bu f 
 omitted doing so before his departure. 
 
 The trip from Harrisburg to Carlisle and Upper 
 Strasburg, through a populous, smiling country, was 
 uneventful, and the Cumberland Valley never looked 
 lovelier, for it was in the month of May. In making 
 up his itinerary he had arranged to spend the second 
 night at a tavern on the top of the Broad Mountain 
 recommended to him by one of his Irish friends in 
 Harrisburg as being kept by a fellow Ulster Scot, and 
 though it was rather further on than he would have
 
 112 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 cared to go, his natural clannishness proved too strong 
 an incentive to resist. There was a commodious inn it 
 Upper Strasburg, and the lights were all aglow as his 
 cavalcade moved by it. It was on the list of public 
 houses furnished by the packers, but he had later sub- 
 stituted the inn on the mountain kept by his fellow 
 Irishman. The climb of the mountain was arduous, 
 and the horses began to show the effects of their long 
 day's journey. All three men dismounted and walked 
 beside their horses, blowing on their fingers, for the 
 night had grown suddenly cold. As they neared the 
 summit they climbed back on their jaded horses, and 
 spurred them forward, so as to ride up to the mountain 
 inn in good style. 
 
 As the great square structure emerged from the 
 gloom they were surprised that no lights shone in the 
 windows, though it was only eight o'clock, and no 
 "watchdog's honest bark" greeted' their arrival. As 
 Contarine reined his horse in front of the door a dark 
 figure emerged from the hallway. Instead of a 
 friendly welcome, the figure called out, "Halt! Hands 
 up!" This might have stopped an easy-going Penn- 
 sylvania Dutchman, but not a mentally alert Ulster 
 Scot like Andrew Contarine. Reaching in his hio 
 pocket he clicked his metallic match box loudly. "T 
 have the drop on you, stranger," he called back. "Go 
 back in that house, or go to hell." The stranger hesi- 
 tated a moment, but when be saw the horseman's 
 hand, evidently holding a revolver pointed at him, he 
 dropped his flintlock rifle, his only weapon, and re
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 113 
 
 treated into the building. Contarine kicked his heels 
 into his horse ; the other members of his party lashed 
 their mounts into motion, and soon the outfit were 
 clattering down the rocky mountain road towards 
 Horse Valley. After traveling on for a mile or more, 
 they were relieved to see a light gleaming from the 
 valley, "a star of the glen/' and they urged their horses 
 on to this promised haven. 
 
 It was not long before they pulled up before a 
 genuine inn, a large stone edifice. Lights were aglow 
 in all of the windows on the ground floor; out of the 
 door emerged a genial boniface, who greeted the wan- 
 derers with a wholesome North of Ireland brogue. 
 The horses were quickly put away by a Negro stable- 
 man, and while a- supper was being prepared they en- 
 tered the bar-room to enjoy Irish conviviality with 
 their landlord. The narrow room was filled with tray 
 elers, hunters and farmers, coming and going, and 
 much whiskey was being consumed. Contarine did not 
 intend telling of his adventure, but after a few drinks 
 his servant became loquacious and blurted it all out. 
 "We were approached by a highwayman on the top of 
 the mountain, but Mr. Contarine surely did outwit the 
 wily blackguard ; why, he had only to click his match 
 box, and the thief ran away." This raised a great 
 laugh in the tap-room from all except the landlord, 
 Thomas Ancketell, who looked very uneasy. 
 
 Just then a very pretty, tall, slim girl, with light- 
 brown hair, very distiui/uc, appeared in the doorway to 
 announce supper, and the party, followed by the land-
 
 114 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 lord, filed into the kitchen across the hall. When they 
 were seated the landlord said : ''Gentlemen, pardon 
 my intrusion, but I think you made a great mistake to 
 tell the story of your ruse on that highwayman in the 
 tap-room; it was full of strangers, and some local men 
 who like to live without working. When you continue 
 your way tomorrow I will loan you a first-class horse - 
 pistol, so if the thief was present when you told your 
 story, and attempts to hold you up again, you can give 
 him a dose he'll long remember. I often think of i 
 story that my father told me. that happened in the old 
 country, in the Limerick Mountains. 
 
 "A good friend of his, an agent for Lord Pery, was 
 entertained at supper at the home of an acquaintance, 
 a gentleman of rather extravagant tastes. The agent 
 told of the large sum of money he had on his person, 
 and how he carried no weapons of defense. After 
 supper he mounted his horse, being in a hurry, and rode 
 off into the night. It was in the country of Bold 
 Brennan, that noted highwayman 'who took it from 
 the rich to give it to the poor,' and as he rode along 
 the Shallee Turnpike he became nervous, not for his 
 own safety, for he was a brave man, but for the money 
 which he carried belonging to Lord Pery. He stopped 
 at a public house about a mile further on, where he 
 knew the landlord, and borrowed a good cap and ball 
 pistol, all primed and loaded. A mile still further he 
 came to a deep cut in the road, the way narrow and 
 overshadowed by hedges and trees, and it was a dark 
 night. A figure emerged from the gloom and ordered
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 115 
 
 him to halt. Instead my father's friend quickly drew 
 his Kavanagh from his belt and shot the highwayman 
 through the heart. He then dismounted and examined 
 his victim, who wore a black cotton mask. Lifting 
 the mask, he found it to be his host of an hour before. 
 As they were both gentlemen and moved in the same 
 social circles, the slayer did not wish to bring disgrace 
 to the highwayman's family, as the hold-up might have 
 been a jest to impress on him the danger of carrying 
 great sums of money on his person when unarmed. 
 Tieing his horse to a tree he carried the corpse behind 
 a hedge, and finding a spade nearby, buried him, re- 
 mounted and rode on. I have a good' horse pistol here. 
 You must take it in case you were overheard in the' tap- 
 room by any one concerned in your recent unpleas- 
 antness." 
 
 Contarine demurred at first, but at length accepted 
 the weapon, promising to send it back from Pittsburg 
 with one of the packers. "What is your name, land"- 
 lord?" he said, as he was getting up from the table. 
 "Ancketell," replied the boniface. "Why, I was told 
 that you kept hotel on the top of Broad Mountain, 
 where the fellow tried to rob me." "I did, until April 
 first, last," replied the boniface. "Rut old Jacob Bar- 
 ner built this fine stone tavern stand and made me 
 such a good offer that I decided to leave the mountain 
 and bring my family nearer to civilization." "Is that 
 your daughter who waited on the table ?" queried Con- 
 tarine. "She is," said Ancketell. Then Contarine told 
 of their mutual friend who had recommended that he
 
 116 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 stay with Ancketell, and they became very good 
 friends. Chairs were drawn up about the inglenook, 
 pipes were lit, and after the dishes were wiped Eleanor 
 Ancketell, the fair waitress, joined them. 
 
 Contarine was charmed by the beauty and refine- 
 ment of this girl, who was destined to go down in his- 
 tory in the narrative of the Pennsylvania travels of 
 Thomas Ashe, an English globe trotter, who spent a 
 night at the tavern on Broad Mountain in 1806, and 
 was deeply impressed by her extraordinary beauty and 
 intelligence. After the others had retired Contarine 
 and Eleanor continued to sit by the fire, far into the 
 "wee small hours," as the girl was always glad to meet 
 gentlefolk and to exchange ideas on a par with her 
 educational advantages. It was late, therefore, the 
 next morning when Andrew Contarine's caravan re- 
 sumed its journey towards Pittsburg. The clerk and 
 servant had gotten pretty well "yorked" in the tap- 
 room, as had Ancketell himself, and they were a sorry 
 looking crew in the morning. The rest was good for 
 the horses, so no real harm was done. 
 
 It had been Contarine's intention to put up at the 
 McCormick tavern on Sideling Hill for the night, and 
 he could easily have reached it before dark, if he had 
 gotten started in time. As it was, darkness fell before 
 they were within five miles of that public house. Again 
 the horses showed signs of weariness and lagged be- 
 neath their loads. Again the night set in chilly, with a 
 raw wind. They espied a light gleaming in a small 
 stone cabin by the road at a spot which commanded a
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 117 
 
 marvelous view of the surrounding country, and Con- 
 tarine decided to stop there to get warm. An old sol- 
 dier, MacCochran, a Highlander from Forbes' army, 
 opened the door and welcomed them. A cheery fire 
 was burning in the great open fireplace, throwing its 
 light at times upon a framed but stained engraving of 
 Charles Edward Stuart, the young Pretender, and his 
 wife, Madame d' Albany, which hung on the opposite 
 wall. The old man brought out some good \\ r est India 
 rum and the entire party regaled themselves for an 
 hour. "This is an historic fireplace," said the soldier. 
 "As we were marching to the west in '58, General 
 Forbes had one of his fainting fits and we carried him 
 in here. After he recovered consciousness he talked 
 to himself concerning an early love affair, and 
 imagined that the girl was in the room. I took 
 a fancy to the little place at the time and bought it 
 when the Revolution ended, and have kept the wood- 
 work of the fireplace painted and' in good condition for 
 its historical associations. The soldier urged them to 
 remain all night, but Contarine deemed it the be?t 
 judgment to press on to McCormick's. 
 
 They had gone on for a couple of miles up the steep, 
 rocky face of the mountain, when suddenly out stepped 
 a man, cloaked to his heels, from behind a big pine 
 tree. "Halt! Hands up!" he shouted, just as the 
 figure had done on Broad Mountain. Contarine had 
 been riding with his hand on the holster, and like a 
 flash whipped out his pistol. "Drop your gun, or you 
 are a dead man." The highwayman laughed and
 
 118 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 shouted insolently : ''You cannot fool me with your 
 match-box twice." As a reply Contarine fired at him, 
 shooting him dead. Handing his horse over to his 
 servant he dismounted and examined his victim. 
 There were no distinguishing marks about him, but by 
 the light of a fire of rich pine kindled from the match- 
 box, the clerk and the servant declared that, they had 
 seen him in the tap-room at Ancketell's the .night be- 
 fore. Finding some sharp stakes, the men set to, 
 despite the half frozen condition of the ground, and 
 buried the road agent beside the trail. He had been 
 shot through the heart, the bullet coming out of his 
 back. The party resumed their way, and in another 
 hour were safely within the home-garth of McCor- 
 mick's travelers' rest. The genial landlord and his 
 German hostler came out to receive them. Needless 
 to say, the party were careful not to say anything about 
 highwaymen, though they heard much talk on the sub- 
 ject in the tap-room. 
 
 A road agent had been operating all along the pike 
 from Upper Strasburg to Bloody Run ; he was proba- 
 bly a stranger, as no one had recognized him. He had 
 already secured a score of victims, as that number of 
 persons had unbosomed their hard luck stories at Mc- 
 Cormick's. "It is a great wonder that he did not try 
 his hand on you," said the landlord to Contarine. The 
 servant who was listening spoke up. "Mr. Contarine 
 carried a loaded pistol at his belt, and any highwayman 
 who would tackle him might get a bullet in his heart." 
 "I am not a desperate character," said the jeweler.
 
 The Path 
 
 Over 
 YeUow Ridge
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 -houred ins.vemK : "You cannot fool me vvith yonr 
 match box i \vice." A? a reply Contarine fired at him. 
 -hooting hiir dead. Handing his horse over to his 
 .-'tvant he >.i : sn" 'Vuned and examinee! his victim. 
 " here \\ <"-. p.u distinguishing marks about him, but by 
 the -i^ht of .' I- re o* rich pine kindled from the match- 
 ! -.:x, iht; c'eik and 'he serx.snt declared that they had 
 si'/i liim in tin: tai'-ioom ot Aneketell's the .night be- 
 />re. l' ; ijid:ng SOTUL- >harn stake-, the men set to. 
 
 ground, and 
 Me had been 
 
 party resiuncu ineir \vay. 
 
 ,vi 
 
 T!K Denial ku 
 i wolbY 
 
 n}; r ou r 01 nis 
 mi I-M another 
 
 lorne-gat th -oi McCor- 
 
 and his 
 Heedless 
 ",}-n\v about 
 '! -:h'.- su'n- 
 
 iV.is proba- 
 .j/i- ! him. He ha..l 
 a- :!"iat nuiriber or 
 buk stones at Me-- 
 tiu;t be di'.i not tiy 
 to ( j.>''t.anne. The 
 up. "Mr. Contarin 
 . highwayman 
 .n!k-t in h ; - iieart.' 
 
 cuava., t'.r.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 119 
 
 quietly ; ''I am quite the contrary, but I must stand up 
 for my rights on the highway." "That is right and 
 proper," replied McGormick ; "they should be shot 
 down like wolves." 
 
 Supper was announced, this time by an Indian 
 woman, and after the meal Contarine sat for a long 
 time by the inglenook, sipping toddy. When the oth- 
 ers had left the room he drew up an empty chair and 
 placed it in the same position that Eleanor Ancketell 
 had sat by him in her father's kitchen the night before. 
 Me was thinking, thinking deeply, not of his two ad- 
 ventures with the knight of the road, or the newly- 
 made grave on the crest of Sideling Hill, but of the 
 fair, slim girl he had left behind in the valley of the 
 Conococheague. Half a dozen times before he re- 
 tired he was lirmly resolved to return to Horse Valley 
 the next morning and make known his love, but his 
 mind would veer about when he thought of his ambi- 
 tions in Pittsburg he could return after his new busi- 
 ness was running smoothly. 
 
 Xext morning his cavalcade were again late in get- 
 ting started, but the fault was not with the servant or 
 the clerk or with McCormick, but with Andrew Con- 
 tarine himself. He had passed a restless night, and it 
 was only towards daybreak when he secured any sleep 
 at all. As it was, he looked gaunt and haggard when 
 he mounted his horse and started on towards the new 
 life beyond the Alleghenies. It is said that he pros- 
 pered in Pittsburg and built up a large business, mar- 
 ried and reared a large family ; if he returned east again
 
 120 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 there is certainly no record of his having stopped at 
 Ancketell's and renewed his brief romance with the 
 landlord's unusual daughter. That was a chapter in 
 his life, like the killing of the highwayman, which was 
 locked forever in his heart of hearts, and not for 
 mortal confidences. 
 
 The passing of the highwayman was noted, but no 
 one. not even landlord Ancketell, coupled his disap- 
 pearance with the Contarine cavalcade. A careful 
 scrutiny was made of all the questionable characters 
 along the pike, but as no one was accounted missing, 
 the highwayman must have been a stranger in ths 
 neighborhood. He was amazed one evening when i 
 packer came into the tap-room and handed him back 
 the pistol, with Contarine's thanks and compliments. 
 On the handle was cut a deep "nick," such as Indian 
 killers were wont to mark on their firearms in the 
 early days. It set the good-natured boniface to cogi- 
 tating. Could his guest who told him of his encounter 
 on the top of Broad Mountain have met and slain the 
 robber further on ? He queried the packer closely, but 
 he was able to tell nothing. Ancketell offered the fel- 
 low a jorum, and as they drank together, the landlord 
 was soon telling him the story of how his father's 
 friend on the Shallee Turnpike had shot his erstwhile 
 host, who had counted on finding him unarmed when 
 he halted him on the dark and lonely highway.
 
 IX. Ghosts of the Living 
 
 WHEN the English traveler, Thomas Ashe, vis- 
 ited Ancketell's tavern on the top of Broad 
 Mountain in 1806, he may have met an old 
 Highlander who, irrespective of cold' and warm 
 weather, wore a shawl of the McGarrah clan, and was 
 generally in evidence about the hostelry. He came 
 every morning from his farm on the Horse Valley side 
 of the mountain to get his drink of usquebaugh, and 
 later, when Ancketell moved to a new stand 1 in Horse 
 Valley, he remained about the premises all day long. 
 He was slow to make acquaintances, lacking as he did 
 that easy approachability so noticeable in the Pennsyl- 
 vania Dutchman, and never "scraped up" conversa- 
 tions with the hosts of travelers who passed in and out 
 of the wine room where he had his favorite seat by the 
 inglenook. If he was spoken to he would be civil 
 enough, but he had enough of self-pride to hold him- 
 self aloof from familiarity. That Thomas Ashe did 
 not mention him in his inimitable pen-picture of the 
 Upper Strasburg public-house evidences that even 
 with the distinguished young Englishman he main- 
 tained his wall of reserve. With Eleanor Ancketell, 
 the landlord's daughter, he was on more friendly 
 terms than with any one else. He intimated to her 
 that he had had a very adventuresome life, and that 
 some day he would tell her about it. It was a year or 
 more after conveying this bit of information that he 
 finally unbosomed some phases of his existence. It 
 
 121
 
 122 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 was a snowy afternoon, and the old man was storm- 
 stayed', and as there were no other guests he became 
 very talkative. He had been born in the Highlands of 
 Scotland, near the romantic little lake of Lochabar, 
 ''the lake of the horns," where the Highland stags were 
 wont to cool their crests at the time of mewing, and 
 the tangle of reeds and moss would facilitate them to 
 loosen their antlers, which were often strewn thick 
 along the banks at some seasons of the year. He was 
 the son of a small landed proprietor, but his tenden- 
 cies were more towards wandering about through the 
 hills and glens, and hunting, than to settle down to the 
 calm existence of overseer of a bleak upland pasture 
 farm. 
 
 Nearby was a similar property known as Primrose 
 House, the daughter of the laird of which appealed' 
 greatly to the fancy of the young mountaineer. She 
 was several years younger than he, with very black 
 hair and eyes, and a complexion like old ivory, very 
 slim and of more than the average height, lithe and 
 graceful. There seemed to be no reason to retard the 
 romance, especially as the parents of both families ap- 
 proved, and the happy hours moved along towards the 
 day when a marriage would result. The young lover, 
 though passionately devoted to his fiance, whom he 
 called Argyra, was of a quick-tempered and jealous 
 disposition. Proud and reserved, he was always look- 
 ing for slights, and before he was twenty years of age 
 had fought several bloodless duels. His belligerent 
 spirit worried his parents, but the old minister of the
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 123 
 
 neighborhood suggested that the lad would find an 
 outlet for his nature in a military career ; that amid 
 the clash of arms would find an expression for his 
 active personality. Accordingly a commission as a 
 subaltern in one of the Highland Regiments destined 
 for service in America was obtained for him by consid- 
 erable wire-pulling on the part of his father and other 
 relatives, and with very brief training he embarked 
 with one of General John Forbes' convoys for the con- 
 quest of R;rl Duquesne. lie served with the ill-fated 
 Major Thrale in Grant's badly judged attack, was cap- 
 tured by the Indians and forced to run the gauntlet on 
 the "race ground" below the fort, between stakes, on 
 which were impaled the heads and effigies of many of 
 his former companions and men. Almost beaten to 
 death, he had enough vitality to knock down the last 
 Indian who struck at him. He had been carried down 
 the river on a batteau to an encampment, where after 
 man}' months he recovered sufficiently to take a retro- 
 spective view of the past year's follies. He had gone 
 to Edinburgh in response to an urgent message that 
 lie could' have the commission if he appeared at once 
 at the castle ; only his parents had gone with him, and 
 lie had not time to say farewell to Argyra, it had all 
 been so sudden. It was take the commission and go, 
 or return to say good-bye and perhaps lose it, and his 
 taste for adventure across the seas appealed to him 
 more than to see the girl whom he knew loved him, 
 and who would probably be waiting when he returned, 
 like in the old ballad of Glencoe.
 
 124 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 In London, where he was stationed for two weeks 
 before sailing for America, he became enamored with 
 a girl of good family, and forgot the great part of 
 his vows to Argyra. This girl had wealth and influen- 
 tial relatives, would help his military fortunes, besides 
 was very beautiful. This romance had not progressed 
 very far when he was ordered away from London, 
 and soon began his journey to America. He put off 
 writing to Argyra from day to day, ending by not 
 writing to her at all. 
 
 He had been nursed back to health by a comely 
 Shawnee maid on the Ohio, and, feeling a sense of 
 loneliness, married her and was adopted into the tribe. 
 But a self-contained, dignified Scot soon felt himself 
 out of place among the out-spoken and uproarious In- 
 dians, and rued his bargain. He was glad to include 
 himself among the hostages to be turned over to 
 Colonel Bouquet at the time of the treaty of 17G4, and 
 though he pretended to part from his Indian wife and 
 child with many regrets, and fervent promises to re- 
 turn for them the next year, he secretly rejoiced at 
 being carried to Carlisle. He was a good-looking 
 youth, of average height, well built and of sandy com- 
 plexion ; he had those acutely clear-cut features so 
 distinctive of his race, and eyes of a peculiarly trans- 
 parent shade of blue. 
 
 On the way east he became very much attached to 
 the beautiful Regina Hartman, of Schuylkill County, 
 who was in the party and was to be restored to her 
 mother after a captivity of nine years among the In-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 125 
 
 clians. He would have married her if she had in the 
 least encouraged him. Regina was a girl of religious 
 nature, almost to the point, of fanaticism, and her 
 dream was to he reunited to her family to hecome a 
 religious devotee, aid was cold to the advances of her 
 Scotch admirer. 
 
 Marie Le Roy, a French girl in the same contingent, 
 proved more responsive, and before they had' reached 
 Carlisle the Highlander fancied he cared for her as 
 much as the unworldly Regina. In the excitement of 
 family reunions and rejoicings the Scotch lad lost sight 
 of hoth Regina and Marie and emerged from his cap- 
 tivity fancy free. 
 
 He went to board in a North of Ireland family, at 
 Carlisle Springs, named McCauley, people of consid- 
 erable means and strong connections. He took up the 
 profession of surveying under old Thomas Jones, and 
 showed a natural aptitude for the profession. In his 
 quiet hours he began to feel pangs of remorse over his 
 treatment of his Indian wife and child on the Ohio and 
 started overland in search of them. To his dismay he 
 learned that they had moved further west, and he 
 tracked them with Scottish persistence almost to the 
 banks of the Missouri, only to find his wife married to 
 another white man, a German, and his child adopted 
 by its stepfather. He did not like to force himself 
 into this home, and made his informants promise him 
 that they would never tell his former wife that he had 
 been within five miles of her home. His analytical 
 mind told him that he had done wrong to plot to
 
 126 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 abandon tliem, and he should not expect to profit by 
 an eleventh hour repentance. Resigned to this situa- 
 tion, especially as he heard that the Indian woman 
 had married a man of some means and that his child 
 was well cared for, he turned his head eastward, and 
 was back at Carlisle after an absence of three years. 
 He became connected with the early surveying parties 
 in the mountains west of the Cumberland Valley, and 
 took up considerable bodies of land in what became 
 Cumberland, Franklin and Bedford Counties. He 
 still made his home with the McCauley family at the 
 Springs. 
 
 At one time they had as girl-of-all-work a very 
 pretty German girl named Molly Ludwig. who later 
 was famed as "Moll Pitcher,'' the heroine of the Battle 
 of Monmouth in the Revolution. After the war Molly 
 married a son of her former employer, who had served 
 through the Revolution, but had previously been the 
 wife of Sergeant Hays, of the Revolution, who died 
 during the war. The Highlander was very much im- 
 pressed by Molly Ludwig' s charms, and contemplated 
 marrying her. as he had never been legally united to 
 the Indian girl, yet he could not quite bring himself to 
 do so. as he was absent so much, and had acquired 
 the restless, wandering spirit of the frontier. He 
 thought that Moll}' liked him quite well, though in 
 reality her heart was given to young McCauley, yet 
 whom she dared not aspire to marry because of his 
 social position. What the outcome of this romance 
 would have been is hard to divine ; it dragged along
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 127 
 
 several years, until the outbreak at Lexington told 
 the canny Scot that a war between the mother country 
 and the colonies was imminent. 
 
 Surely his sympathies were not with the colonies, 
 ungratefully trying to break loose from the apron 
 strings of their parent ; he had seen much of the wars 
 of Forbes and .Bouquet and had imbibed a thoroughly 
 British point of view. He could not remain and re- 
 fuse to serve in the Colonial Army in such a patriotic 
 valley, and to be a Tory was unthinkable, so he de- 
 cided on another course to return to his native land. 
 As he turned his head towards the coast he began to 
 think of Argyra, possible over there still waiting for 
 him. Me had never inquired about her in his infre- 
 quent letters to his parents ; neither had they ever 
 alluded to her in their letters to him. It was all very 
 strange that she had dropped out of his life so com- 
 pletely. He had dreamed of her a number of times 
 while he was deciding which course to pursue in the 
 war. She appeared to him always attired in white 
 satin, as a refined specimen of femininity, far superior 
 to all the strange love affairs he had been through in 
 the American wilderness. He must go back to her; 
 his duty to a first love was as great as to his nation. 
 Yet he had no cowardly sentiments, for it was also 
 his resolve to enter some military organization in 
 England, to serve in India, or anywhere, as he merely 
 did not wish to take part in what he called "that silly 
 American difference." His thoughts became filled 
 with images of Argyra, and he began to feel that the
 
 128 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 war was incidental to carrying out his mission to- 
 wards making amends. He was only seven and 
 thirty, and decidedly young looking, not stout, and 
 with no signs of grey in his fine head of auburn hair. 
 Argyra might not look girlish ; she would be about 
 thirty-three, and dark folks are said to age faster than 
 fair ones ; still he was sure that if she looked half 
 as well as in his dreams she could not be otherwise 
 than beautiful. 
 
 The trip to Scotland was not without its difficulties, 
 as eastbound ocean travel was forbidden from all 
 ports controlled by the Colonists. It took a lot of 
 bribery and some political influence from Scotch ac- 
 quaintances to get him safely aboard an outgoing ves- 
 sel. After a long and perilous journey, during which 
 the ship was chased out of its course by either an 
 American man-of-war or a pirate, a landing was 
 made at a small Scotch port called Campbelltown, 
 and' the prodigal Highlander set out by way of In- 
 vera'ry and Fort William for the remote regions of 
 Lochabar. It was in the early part of 1776 when 
 his final overland journey to the Highlands com- 
 menced. The country seemed as wild as what he had 
 left behind in Pennsylvania, only more desolate, as 
 forest fires and the reckless destruction of timber had 
 made the mountains barren wastes, treeless except 
 for a few birches or aspens, as far as the eye could 
 reach. "How can such lonely views be called beau- 
 tiful?" he mused, as he rode along, his horse sinking 
 sometimes breast deep into the snow. "My taste has
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 129 
 
 changed' since I have been in Pennsylvania ; to my 
 mind there is no beauty in scenery where there are no 
 trees." The destruction of the timber had worked 
 havoc among the game. The wolves were gone, the 
 deer and roes very rare, and game birds scarcely ever 
 met with. He must have seen a country and noted 
 conditions strikingly similar to that existing in Penn- 
 sylvania today, for the forest fires and the reckless 
 lumbermen have destroyed the forests, the wolves 
 are gone, deer are few, and one can travel from Car- 
 lisle to Ikirnt Cabins and never see a game bird', 
 grouse, quail, plover or woodcock! 
 
 After riding for three days he came into the vicin- 
 ity of Lochabar, could see it lying below him like a 
 crystal mirror of the vale, surrounded by snow-cov- 
 ered, desolate mountains. There were some superb 
 beechwoods near Lochabar, also some magnificent 
 plantations of larch and fir, made by local noblemen, 
 which gave an intimation of the pristine beauties of 
 the neighborhood. It was while passing through one 
 of these beechwoods that he saw a marten, and put 
 up a covey of black-game. Hfe had heard as a boy 
 that these native woodland's were once filled with 
 wolves and when the edict went out to burn all for- 
 ests to drive out the wild beasts the local landowners 
 had objected so strenuously that they were saved. 
 He wondered if these great woodlands still harbored 
 the last stray wolf of Scotland ; he hoped so, and if 
 they could talk, what tales those noble, gnarled' old 
 trees could tell ! It was a chill evening, with a sharp
 
 130 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 wind which blew the snow into his eyes when he 
 alighted from his horse in front of the bright lit win- 
 dows of the old stone mansion. "Glenturret," his 
 family home. His parents were no more, but his 
 three brothers and a married sister greeted him affec- 
 tionately. They led him into the great hall, where 
 a fire of beech logs was blazing in the ancient fire- 
 place which gilded the sombre cuirasses, burgonets. 
 morions and Highland broad-swords hanging on the 
 opposite wall. It was a sad homecoming with the 
 paretii.s gone; he was self-contained, but old mem- 
 ories of a better and happier day rose incessantly 
 before him. He asked no questions concerning 
 Argyra for some time, but noted that nothing 
 was said concerning her. Before retiring, while 
 the midnight gale was blowing down the s-tone 
 chimney in biting gusts, the four brothers sat 
 about the fire for a final toddy and talk. The young 
 man from the American wilds so directed the con- 
 versation as to cause Argyra's name to be mentioned, 
 but there was a silence, and the brothers looked at 
 one another in a manner which might indicate that 
 the subject was one that ought to be changed. The 
 prodigal did not press the matter, but waited until 
 his youngest brother had lit him up to his room ; he 
 invited the lad in, and boldly asked him why there 
 was such a silence when Argyra's name was men- 
 tioned. This brother, who was only a child when the 
 Highland officer went away, probably knew less of 
 the story than any other member of the family. He
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 131 
 
 finally consented to talk, and stood leaning against 
 the fireplace, fidgeting nervously while he told all that 
 he could of the strange episode, the rushlight flick- 
 ering in his unsteady hand. ''We always supposed 
 that you went away so suddenly because shortly 
 afterwards a gilly named Keating, who worked for 
 Argyra's father, disappeared. It was said that you 
 disliked him because she talked so much about him, 
 and would have been jealous if a gentleman can have 
 such feelings for a fellow, and it was thought that 
 you had him made away with, if he was too vulgar 
 for you to have killed him yourself." The returned 
 soldier's eyes opened wide in excitement. "It is ab- 
 solutely untrue," he said. "I knew nothing of this; 
 I did not return to say farewell to Argyra because I 
 was afraid of losing my commission but pardon my 
 interruption, please go on." The lad resumed his 
 story. "You did not return to say farewell to Argyra, 
 neither did you write her from Edinburgh, from 
 London or from the ship. In fact, she never got a 
 letter from you at all. She was very much humiliated 
 and felt that it was all caused by her ill-advised re- 
 marks concerning the gilly Keating. You did not 
 write father or mother until long after you reached 
 America, just as you were starting on the expedition 
 for the Western wilds with General Forbes. We, 
 too. ascribed that silence not to forgetfulness but to 
 your affray over the gilly." The soldier hung his 
 head. "What a terrible misunderstanding this is ! 
 It is true that my face did flush when Argyra praised
 
 132 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 a gilly, but that was all ; I would' no more have harmed 
 him than one of my brothers; I should have treated 
 Argyra better, but a soldier sees many pretty faces, 
 and my head was in a whirl of excitement; that was 
 why I never wrote her and waited so long before 
 penning to my dear father and mother. "But where 
 is Argyra?" he broke in. 
 
 "Where is Argyra?" repeated the brother. "She 
 went to Carlisle the English Carlisle, not the town 
 in Pennsylvania to visit some of her kin, as 
 she was heart-broken by your silence, and the 
 story that was whispered about concerning the dis- 
 appearance of the gilly. There she met a young 
 clergyman of the English Church Who was going to 
 the Indies, and married him ; her parents, too are dead, 
 her immediate family moved away, and we know 
 nothing further about her. The last I heard of her 
 was that she is the mother of two fine sons." 
 
 The Highlander thanked his brother and retired. 
 He passed a sleepless night for the most part, in one 
 of his drowsy moments he saw Argyra before him 
 clad in white satin and she reached out her arms and 
 said, "I love you !" Then he awoke to all the deso- 
 lation of his wasted life. In the morning he was 
 downstairs long before the other members of the 
 household, eager to disabuse their minds of the cruel 
 aspersion that had rested on him all these years. He 
 had acted reprehensibly but was no skulking inciter 
 of a homicide. This created a better feeling all 
 around, and the soldier fancied that his soul felt more
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 133 
 
 quiet and happier. On the following Sunday after- 
 noon he went for a walk across the hills and neared 
 the old. stone kirk just before afternoon services 
 were beginning. There were very few worshippers 
 in the Church as he entered, and made his way to the 
 family pew. In the pew nearest the altar, on the 
 side of the aisle on which he was seated, he saw ^ 
 slim, girlish figure, with very black hair, clad in a 
 white satin gown with a high collar, masses of black 
 hair showing from under a large felt hat. In the 
 gloom, for it was a dark afternoon, and the candles 
 had not been lit, she appeared much like Argyra had 
 looked when he last saw her eighteen years before. 
 Might it be her daughter? Suddenly the figure rose 
 up, walked to the end of the pew and down the aisle 
 towards him. The soldier expected her to come into 
 his pew. and half rose as she drew near ; she passed 
 by. looking straight at him, but did not speak. It 
 i^'cis Aryyra! He sank back on the seat, his heart 
 beating with violence against his breast. He had 
 about composed himself when to his infinite surprise 
 the same figure passed up the aisle and re-entered 
 the pew before the altar. The soldier should have 
 gotten up and gone towards her and whispered ''Ar- 
 gyra," but he did not. and just then the lights were 
 lie. the pews filled up. and a voting minister began 
 the services. The soldier was violently agitated, so 
 much so that he was compelled to go outside before 
 the close of the sermon, and walk up and down the 
 icy porch to prevent falling down from dizziness.
 
 134 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 He did not leave the porch, and he knew of no back 
 door to the Church, consequently when Argyra came 
 out, her devotions over, he would accost her in the 
 vigor of his renewed composure. The services 
 closed, and the little congregation, for the most part 
 tenants on his father's property or villagers, came 
 out. He would have liked to have hurried away, as 
 many recognized him and stopped to greet him, and 
 he was afraid that Argyra might slip past him. He 
 waited until the last person emerged, the old sexton, 
 who knew him after he gave him his name. "Did I 
 see Argyra McCooey of Primrose House, in the 
 kirk?" "Argyra McCooey," said the old verger, 
 speaking the name with surprise, "she has not been 
 in these parts for near to fifteen years, and after her 
 good parents died all her family moved away, and 
 that was more than five years since." ''That is re- 
 markable," said the soldier, "I was sure that I saw 
 her in the Church." "Young man," said the sexton, 
 after looking around and seeing that no one WAS 
 present, "there are ghosts of the dead, and ghosts o" 
 the living ; the ghosts of the living are the most ier- 
 rible kind of ghosts. They come back to haunt us 
 for wrongs of our doing, while ghosts of the dead 
 come to right wrongs of their own. You did not r ee 
 Argyra McCooey, for she is many thousands of miles 
 from here, but you saw her ghost, a ghost of the 
 living!" The soldier was trembling like a leaf, as 
 he thanked the sexton and walked hurriedly away. 
 He kept on walking at a brisk pace for he was ter-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 135 
 
 ribly distressed in body and soul, until he had reached 
 the shore of Lochabar, to a shaw of dark firs where 
 lie had often sat with Argyra on summer afternoons 
 in the long ago and watched the gulls skimming over 
 the rippling surfaces of the "lake of the horns." The 
 stars were out, and shone with silvery effulgence on 
 the expanses of icy waters. The Highlander approach- 
 ed the lake side to an eddy whe'e the water, cold and 
 unfriendly, lapped the frozen shore. Reflected on the 
 calm surface he saw. like a star, not his own image. 
 but the face of Argyra of Primrose House. Quickly 
 turning away, he moved with rapid steps towards 
 his old home across the hill. He would return to 
 America, and. in more seamy adventures, try again 
 to forget her.
 
 X. Fire for the Ghosts 
 
 THE Jack o' Lanthorn still appears at times in the 
 deep ravines between Cove Mountain and Tusca- 
 rora Mountain, in the dark jungles of the Augh- 
 wick Valley, where the modern has not routed, the 
 primitive or ghosts and goblins of the long ago. Jack 
 o' Lanthorns are becoming scarcer for some reason, 
 "farmers draining off swamps," so our scientific 
 friends say, but the old people ascribe it to the mater- 
 ialism of this dollar-mad age, which has left no human 
 hearts for a belief of ghosts to dwell in. For, after all, 
 to believe is to endow realty to a ghost, and with no 
 believers there can be no hearts to harbor them, to re- 
 lease them, and see them at the witching hour ! Sad, 
 cold, cruel world without ghosts, casting aside as proof 
 of intellectual progress the only visible grip to base our 
 oft-insistent dream of Immortality. 
 
 There are many stories told of the early doings of 
 the Jack o' Lanthorns or Will o' the Wisps "fire for 
 the' ghosts," the North of Ireland settlers called them, 
 believing that they were tiny braziers carried about by 
 goblins to warm the graves of those who rested in 
 lonely places or unhallowed ground. On the other 
 hand, the Indians considered that they were lanterns 
 carried by ghostly guides to lead the spirits of the dead 
 into the land of shades, to prevent them from getting 
 lost in the long, perilous journey thither, otherwise they 
 would wander about aimlessly in the world \vhich lie? 
 
 136
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 137 
 
 between the living and the dead to disturb the lonely 
 places by their melancholy wailing. 
 
 About Cove Mountain and Tuscarora Mountain, 
 and in the depths of the Aughwick Valley, the tradition 
 that the Will o' the Wisp was "fire for the ghosts" has 
 lingered until the present day. Whenever one is seen 
 it is believed to be some kindly spirit bearing a little 
 warmth to some forgtten corpse lying freezing amid 
 the wilds waiting for a long-off resurrection. Often, 
 in the old days, when there were Indians and outlaws 
 and robbers in the South Mountains and on Cove 
 Mountain, Tuscarora Mountain, Scrub Ridge and 
 Sideling Hill, murders were more common than now, 
 and the bodies of many a victim of redman or robber 
 were recovered by following the unseen bearer of this 
 "fire for the ghosts." It would be a long journey most 
 always, generally unfruitful, as the sprite traveled 
 far too fast for human strength, and the seeker would 
 find himself at dawn waist-deep in some creek, or 
 struggling in a marsh or quagmire. But there were 
 cases where the light would be met with near the 
 end of its journey, and after hovering over a mound, 
 drop down and rest quivering, radiating a warm, 
 white glow over the dreary sepulchre. It must not be 
 approached or disturbed, but at daybreak it would 
 vanish. Then the digging could commence. If mo- 
 lested while shining no bones would be found. 
 
 There was one story of finding a grave that has lin- 
 gered on from generation to generation because of 
 some very unusual features. It was a year or two
 
 138 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 after the return of Colonel Bouquet to Carlisle with 
 his convoy of prisoners released from Indian captivity, 
 that two hunters from the Cumberland Valley, Calvin 
 McCreight and Aleck McLanahan, in the early spring 
 trailed a band of elks across Horse Valley (which 
 meant Elk Valley, as the early settlers imagined the 
 elks, when they saw diem after they had shed their 
 horns to be wild horses), over Kittochtinny Mountain, 
 near the Tri-Mountain road through Path Valley, along 
 the Tuscarora Path, into Aughwick Valley, and up to 
 the very crest of mighty Cove Mountain, near to where 
 the versatile Leslie Seylar, of McConnellsburg, has 
 his wonderful recreation centre and observatory. 
 There it became very dark and very cold, and a fresh 
 snow was fast obliterating the tracks of the elks, which 
 were moving southward. The hunters paused to build 
 a tire, and while they warmed their numb fingers the 
 snow abated, and they regretted their decision to stop. 
 They were about to "outen" their fire by putting snow 
 on it, when they noticed a ball of light moving among 
 the knotted, dwarfish chestnut trees which grew along 
 the brow of the gigantic mountain, on the side facing 
 Aughwick Valley. The elks were forgotten, as the 
 kind-hearted hunters saw a chance to be of some aid 
 to a victim of a violent death, and perhaps be able to 
 transfer his remains to hallowed ground. When they 
 approached the Jack o' Lanthorn it started to move 
 more rapidly, and down the steep face of the mountain 
 height. There was nothing to do but to follow, and it 
 was just as easy to follow a well-intentioned sprite as a
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 139 
 
 band of elks. Down, down it led them, over rocks and 
 crevices, among logs and windfalls, through under- 
 brush and briars, until they came into easier traveling 
 among the giant white oaks which grew along the 
 lower levels of the mountain and stretched out towards 
 Aughwick Creek. It was at a point directly across the 
 creek from about where the State Forest Ranger's 
 house is at present, that the ball of fire stopped, and 
 seemed to hover over a pile of jagged rocks, like a 
 mound. Evidently the body was buried with care, as 
 the stones were put there so that it could not be ex- 
 humed by wolves or other wild beasts. The light rest- 
 ed on the grave, as if warming it by its bright rays, 
 while the two hunters stood at a respectful distance 
 trying to conjure out whose body it was. After view- 
 ing it for a time they made their way across the valley, 
 camping for the night near the gap leading into Path 
 Valley the gap where, a century later, the moun- 
 taineers felled the trees across the road to prevent the 
 ingress of the Confederate raiders. The hunt was 
 forgotten ; their main thought was to get nack to Car- 
 lisle and try to solve the mystery of the lonely grave. 
 It was over a year before they were able to learn any- 
 thing very definite concerning the case, and then it was 
 probably too late to run down the murderer. Widow 
 McCaleb kept a lodging house opposite to the 
 gaol, that grim old fortress which sheltered many noted 
 political prisoners and criminals, among them Freder- 
 ick Stump and his servant, John Ironcutter, who in 
 l?(iS murdered White Mingo and nine other Indians
 
 140 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 in cold blood on the Christunn, near Stinefordstown, 
 only to be released by a mob and carried about the 
 streets of the town as heroes and not like murderers. 
 It was during this stirring episode that the hunters 
 McCreight and McLanahan were in Carlisle at the be- 
 hest of the Sheriff in a feeble effort to preserve law 
 and order. They happened to lodge with Widow 
 McCaleb. After the release of the prisoners and the 
 quieting of the uproar the two hunters sat with the 
 landlady by the fire, discussing the day's regrettable 
 events, the subject gradually turning to other crimes. 
 It was nearly midnight, and the yawns of Widow Mc- 
 Caleb's pretty, brown-haired daughter Mary, as she 
 rubbed her china-blue eyes, hinted that it was. time to 
 close up for the night. "What makes you yawn like 
 that?" said the good woman, testily. "Don't you have 
 any interest in all the important things tnese gentlemen 
 have been telling?" "I was interested," protested the 
 round-faced, overgrown girl, who was sprawling on a 
 bench, as she patted the knots of chestnut-colored hair 
 which covered her ears. "But I was up before day- 
 break and scrubbing floors and washing windows and 
 doing all kinds of work, and even if you talked ghosts 
 I'd feel tired now." "Do you believe in ghosts?" said 
 Widow McCaleb, addressing the hunters. "We surely 
 do," answered McLanahan, and he proceeded to tell 
 of the finding of the grave on Cove Mountain through 
 following the Jack o' Lanthorn. The woman got up 
 from her chair and began pacing the fl-jor with sup- 
 pressed excitement. "Mary, shall we tell the gentle-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 141 
 
 men what -we saw?" "Of course, tell them," said the 
 girl, as she yawned again, and stretched her long, 
 shapely arms like some big Pussy-cat. u lt is a strange 
 story," began the landlady, "but it shows that murder 
 will out, and though you weren't able to hold those 
 Dutch blackguards in jail today, you have helped to 
 solve an unfathomed mystery. Five years ago it was 
 the year that my husband died and we began to take 
 lodgers we were lucky enough to accommodate sev- 
 eral officers in Colonel Bouquet's command, soon to 
 leave for the western country. Among them was Cap- 
 tain Denning, of the Royal Americans, an Irishman by 
 birth, and a. close personal friend to Colcnel Bouquet, 
 and for a time his adjutant. The officer was about 
 thirty years of age, undersized and not very attractive- 
 looking, for he was flat-faced and wore spectacles. He 
 took a great shine to Mary, and always said, half- 
 joking, that when he came back a general from the 
 west he would make her his wife ; she was only fifteen, 
 and very babyish for her age, so we thought little of 
 his remarks. He was a great admirer of pretty women, 
 though he said that Mary, even in her rough working 
 clothes, was the most beautiful girl he iiad ever seen. 
 He said he would not mind being killed in battle except 
 for one reason, that he could no longer see the pretty 
 faces of the girls who thronged the earth, and never to 
 see Mary again would be the greatest deprivation of 
 all. At the end of a year Colonel Bouquet came back 
 recommended for a general's commission, but Captain 
 Denning was not with him. The report given out was
 
 142 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 that he had wandered away in the mountains and fallen 
 over a precipice. We had reason to think differently, 
 and tried to explain our case, but failed. It happened 
 this way : ( )ne night I was waked suddenly. Mary 
 and I slept in the same room, but in different beds. I 
 was always afraid to sleep alone since losing my hus- 
 band, fearful of ghosts, I suppose, and thought I saw 
 a man standng by Mary's bed. At first I thought it 
 was my man come back, as he doted on Mary, and 
 hated to leave her, but as he kept so still I believed it 
 was an Indian or a robber. There were a few stars 
 out. so I could see a little. I felt for my blunderbuss 
 and was getting ready to fire it, when the light became 
 a little trifle brighter, and I saw that it v.'-.s neither my 
 husband nor an Indian or a robber, but an officer in 
 uniform of the Royal Americans. The figure contin- 
 ued to stand by my girl's bed, looking at her, until she 
 woke with a start and screamed out. causing the appa- 
 rition to vanish. I jumped out of bed and ran to her 
 side. She was in a cold sweat. I said, "Mary, who 
 was that standing by your bed?" "It was Captain 
 Denning." she replied. She was much upset al! day, 
 but I told her that if he came again not to cry out, 
 that if I was awake I would cover him with my pistol 
 and shoot if he attempted to hurt her, but to try and 
 find out what he wanted. That night I was again 
 waked by the feeling that some one was in the room. 
 It was the Captain again, and this time he spoke to 
 Mary, in a voice just above a whisper. 'My dear girl,' 
 he said, 'my whole life was centered on seeing you
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 143 
 
 again and making good my promise to urge you to be 
 my wife. You could not love me as 1 loved you, be- 
 cause I was not a handsome man, but my great love 
 would make up for what yours lacked. I was almost 
 home not a general, but cited for distinguished con- 
 duct on the field. On almost the last night of the 
 march I left the camp at the foot of the west slope of 
 Cove Mountain, and climbed to the highest point where 
 1 was told I could have a view of the Cumberland 
 Valley, where my beloved resided. I had been fol- 
 lowed by two ruffians, whom 1 had court-martialed, 
 and just where the highway crosses the top of the 
 mountain 1 was struck from behind, dragged down 
 the hill into the forest, stripped of all my valua- 
 bles, and buried. Mv slayers covered my grave with 
 stones, not through fondness for me, but to prevent 
 wolves from carrying bits of my body and clothing 1 
 into the valleys where the crime might be detected. 
 
 My murderers were ,' and mentioning the names 
 
 of two well-known young men of loose character, who, 
 before enlisting, lived in the Great Cove. The recital 
 had been a terrible one, and Mary, shivering as if with 
 ague, screamed out again, and the shade of Captain 
 Denning vanished. The next day we saw Colonel 
 Bouquet marching into town, followed by his troops 
 and the motley caravan of released Indian captives. 
 Mary and I were on the front steps as he rode by. and 
 we waved to him. and he saluted us in return. \\ hat 
 a prince of men he was so brave and capable, yet so 
 friendly and democratic with it all ! That night we ex-
 
 144 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 pected a return of the unquiet spirit of Captain Den- 
 ning, so I gave Mary a big jorum of rum, so that her 
 nerves would bear up better than on the previous 
 nights. Again at midnight we were waked by Captain 
 Denning standing at Mary's bedside. He began by 
 saying that he did not want Colonel Bouquet to think 
 that he had wandered away or deserted, but that he 
 should know the facts and the names of his assassins, 
 for us to go and tell the Colonel, and have him avenge 
 his murder, that his grave could easily be found, and 
 skull crushed in by a bullet wound from behind would 
 prove his assertion. He was sorry to have troubled us, 
 he had now appeared too many times, that he was grow- 
 ing faint. He stooped clown and kissed Mary on her 
 full, red lips. The ghost vanished, and I found that 
 the girl had fainted dead away. I managed to revive 
 her, and she fell into a quiet sleep. The next morning 
 we repaired to General Bouquet's headquarters, and, 
 through his orderly, who knew us, we secured an audi- 
 ence. He was shocked to hear our recital, and by the 
 way he talked promised to start an investigation. That 
 night we hardly expected the ghost, from what had 
 been said, but he came again. This time his form was 
 more hazy, and his voice so low that I could not hear 
 him in my bed across the room. Mary says that he 
 told her that Colonel Bouquet had made no move to 
 investigate his death, that he had a peculiar gold ring 
 with a Hindu inscription on it that the Colonel had 
 noticed, that it was now being worn by a very esti- 
 mable girl beyond Fort Bedford, with whom one of
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 145 
 
 the murderers was in love. He asked that she tell the 
 Colonel to summon the girl, and ask her where she got 
 the ring, and it would prove the story to be absolutely 
 true. He kissed Mary again and embraced her, then 
 faded away. The next morning we sought another 
 audience with General Bouquet. He received us 
 pleasantly, and was deeply impressed when Mary told 
 the story of the ring. He promised to send a detach- 
 ment of Black Boys after the girl at once, and bring 
 his friend's murderers to justice. We left much grati- 
 field at the result of our interview. That evening we 
 saw the cavalrymen clattering out of town, leading an 
 extra horse with a fine side saddle on which the mur- 
 derer's sweetheart was to be brought in. While they 
 were gone Colonel Bouquet received orders commis- 
 sioning him a Brigadier General, and ordering him to 
 take command in Florida. He had to leave hurriedly, 
 though one of the sentries at his headquarters told us 
 that the day before he departed he sent his orderly out 
 on the Cove Mountain Road, to try and hurry back the 
 cavalrymen and their hostage, in case they should be 
 traveling slowly. A week after the General's depar- 
 ture the cavalry troop rod'e into town, all covered with 
 dust <'.nd grime, and with them a dark girl in Indian 
 garb. When Colonel Marmaduke, General Bouquet's 
 successor, heard the story, he ordered the girl restored 
 to her home without an examination. She elected to 
 return without delay, which we thought peculiar, and 
 the troopers had to escort her away back to Schellsburg, 
 fifteen miles west of Fort Bedford. We wondered if
 
 146 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 we would receive a visit from Captain Denning's ghost 
 to express his dissatisfaction, but never did we set him 
 again. \Yhile the whole affair was still fresh in our 
 minds we were shocked to hear of the sudden death of 
 General Bouquet at Pensacola, immediately after his 
 arrival in Florida. That settled the question as far as 
 punishing the murderers of Captain Denning was con- 
 cerned. Perhaps the General greeted the Captain in 
 the other world, and planned some celestial vengeance. 
 Mary, as you can see, looks none the worse for her 
 ghostly visitations, but I do think may be she liked the 
 Captain after all, as she always looks at the floor when 
 the lads gaze at her, as they all do, in admiration. She 
 used to be so bold that it worried me, but since she was 
 kissed and embraced by a visitor from the land of 
 spirits all earthly attentions must seem tame to her." 
 Just at this point of the narrative Mary again strug- 
 gled up from the bench on which she had been sprawl- 
 ing, and. showing too much of her pretty, plump, 
 brown-stockinged legs. Yawning and stretching her 
 smooth, white arms, she exclaimed, "Mother, for good- 
 ness sakes. don't praise me like that, else I will grow 
 conceited. I would never be satisfied with a ghost's 
 kisses ; they blow icy breaths on me like come out of 
 the Caves in Doubling Gap." 
 
 "I guess the poor Captain needed that fire from the 
 Jack o' Lanthorn." said McCreight, ''if he had a frozen 
 breath like that."
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 147 
 
 As Widow McCaleb was locking the door for the 
 night, she could hear the ribald shouts in the alleys, 
 and snatches of German songs ; the revellers were still 
 celebrating the gaol delivery of Stump and Ironcutter 
 in a manner never to be forgotten in staid old Carlisle. 
 It seemed to the good woman that the merriest and 
 freest people on earth were either murderers or friends 
 of murderers.
 
 XL The Proof of Ossian 
 
 IT IS not generally known that General Simon 
 Fraser, the British Commander at the Battle of 
 Stillwater, who was killed by the Pennsylvania 
 sharp-shooter Tim Murphy, was engaged in important 
 literary labors at the time of his untimely death. 
 These labors were none other than the publication of a 
 parallel edition of the works of Ossian, translated from 
 ancient manuscripts, collected from entirely different 
 sources, and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt the 
 authenticity of James MacPherson's productions. 
 These had been in the possession of the General's 
 mother, Mrs. Catharine Fraser, of Culbockie, and en- 
 trusted to her son for editing and publication. This 
 was to be done not to vindicate the aspersions cast 
 upon MacPherson, in whom they had no interest and 
 who is today generally regarded as the composer of 
 the poems, but to prove the existence of ancient Scot- 
 tish poetry, and confound the English critics. The 
 work proved so engrossing and so arduous that when 
 the General was ordered to America he brought the 
 manuscripts with him, entrusted in the particular care 
 of one of his orderlies, Farquhar McGilvray, who had 
 been a retainer in his mother's family for a number of 
 years. 
 
 The story of the General's taking off is so graphically 
 lold by historians that it will hardly bear repetition 
 here. Suffice that the late Dr. Joseph Kalbfus, the 
 lamented Pennsylvania Game Commissioner, in an 
 
 148
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 149 
 
 article urging the conservation of game to promote the 
 use of the rifle by the mountain boys, states that "Tim 
 Murphy's shot was the turning point of the Revolu- 
 tion. After that all was favorable to the cause of the 
 Colonists." It was at a time when the tide of battle 
 seemed going against the Americans that General Mor- 
 gan requested Murphy, who was considered the ablest 
 long-distance shot in his forces, to remove General 
 Fraser. At three hundred yards the redoubtable Tim 
 made short work of the gallant Britisher, and killed 
 one of his orderlies for good measure. This was on 
 October 7, 1777, and the surviving orderly, McGilvray, 
 collected the manuscripts into his personal possession, 
 while the General's body lay in an adjoining room in 
 his headquarters, hoping to take the precious papers 
 back to Scotland after the war. 
 
 The story of Tim Murphy is confusing to an his- 
 torian. r>enson J. Lossing, in his marvellous "Field 
 Book of the Revolution," relates that, after the Revo- 
 lution, Murphy resided in the Mohawk Valley. New 
 York, marrying a girl from that neighborhood. In 
 Pennsylvania history it is stated that, after the Revo- 
 lution, Murphy resided in the West Branch Valley, 
 below the present town of Williamsport, at what is 
 now Sylvan Dell. Could there have been two Tim 
 Murphys? The Keystone State, unless most excellent 
 proofs are adduced, will never concede that her Tim 
 Murphy became a New Yorker. 
 
 The Tim of so many unique records was champion 
 of champions. For instance, on September 13, 1775,
 
 150 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 his friends joined him in his celebrating the killing and 
 scalping of his twenty-third Indian. As Indian scalps 
 were paid for at the rate of $134 apiece. Murphy must 
 have enjoyed some little prosperity as a man-hunter. 
 At one time in his life he estimated that he had killed 
 four thousand deer ; only a few hunters in the whole 
 United States can equal that record. With twenty- 
 three Indians, four thousand deer and General Fraser 
 to his credit. Murphy was able to take pride in what 
 hunters today call a "mixed bag" second to none. Tim 
 Murphy's rifle, the stock "nicked" to bits by the marks 
 of its frequent victims, would be a relic fit for a great 
 private collection or museum. Robert Couvenhoven's 
 rifle, still in existence, has thirteen nicks, which means 
 it counted for the lives of that number of redskins, and 
 Couvenhoven and Murphy were close friends. 
 
 At the close of the war Farquhar McGilvray did 
 not return to Scotland, but turned up as a squatter 
 settler in the South Mountains, on Conewago Creek, 
 in I'uchanan Valley. Probably he had been captured 
 and exchanged, or allowed to escape, but why did 
 lie elect to remain in America? At any rate, he ap- 
 peared in Pennsylvania, bringing with him the pre- 
 cious "proofs of Ossian." He had a clearly denned 
 idea of their value, and possibly he sought the quiet 
 of the South Mountains to himself take up the task 
 of translating and annotating the manuscripts where 
 his illustrious master had left off. He mav have 
 preferred to do this than to turn them over to out- 
 siders in Scotland, who would rob the General's
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 151 
 
 memory of the credit, or make a "botch" of the 
 important task. It is strange, however, that McGil- 
 vrav did not communicate with Macpherson or his 
 friends, who might have been willing to bring out the 
 translation at no expense to the old soldier. It may 
 have been the hardships of the frontier, and the irre- 
 sponsibility (if the squatter's life that caused him to 
 dawdle with his work. He seemed to do little more 
 with the documents, if that was his reason for com- 
 ing to 1'uchanan Valley, than to read and re-read 
 them ; they were always lying on his desk during the 
 period when bad weather kept him indoors. Hut for 
 all that the few neighbors forgot that McGilvray was a 
 liritish veteran of the war or was the possessor of 
 one of the most valuable manuscripts in the world, 
 lie seemed to spend most of his time clearing a small 
 farm, and later tore down his log cabin after he had 
 erected a more substantial structure, a square stone 
 h<,u.-c with old-fashioned hooded chimneys, under 
 which the owls harbored in changeable weather. 
 Some people thought that he intended to get married, 
 as the house was much too large for a lone squatter, 
 but no wife appeared. That he was industrious is 
 proved by this stone house, which is still standing; 
 practically all of the work of which he did himself. 
 Yet as for literarv activities he made no stir. What 
 was his motive for keeping the manuscript in the 
 wilds of South Mountains? Was he negotiating to 
 sell it, or would some one come after it? It is a
 
 152 
 
 great mystification to those who are interested, and 
 as yet no solution can be even guessed at ! 
 
 As years passed McGilvray found the responsibili- 
 ties of the house too great, and entered into negotia- 
 tions with a couple then in the prime of life, Adam 
 Ludwig and wife, that if they would care for him as 
 long as he lived he would turn the house and land 
 over to them at his death. Adam Ludwig was a 
 bright, active man, and younger brother of Molly 
 Ludwig, better known as "Molly Pitcher," the heroine 
 of the Battle of Monmouth, and the widow of the 
 Revolutionary soldiers, Hays and McCauley. 
 
 Relieved of his chief responsibilities, the Scotch- 
 man began to think more and more of his old home 
 beyond the seas. He was attached to his Pennsylva- 
 nia mountains and valleys, yet he desired, as he ex- 
 pressed it, ''to take one more look at hrs own High- 
 lands." After deliberating for many months, he 
 finally decided to make the trip, and completed all 
 the legal arrangements so that if he was lost at sea 
 or died abroad the property w r ould pass to the care- 
 takers. He would be gone about two years, no more. 
 
 When he left he entrusted the manuscripts, which 
 he kept in an iron box, made for the purpose by a 
 blacksmith at Chambersburg, to Ludwig, enjoining 
 him to save them above all other chattels if the house 
 caught on fire. 
 
 If McGilvray was waiting for someone to come 
 for the papers it was strange that he would go off on 
 a two year's trip, leaving them behind, and with no
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 153 
 
 orders to his agent, except to hold on to them, and 
 carry the chest out first of all the household goods in 
 case of fire. 
 
 Adam Ludwig, not hearing from the Scotchman in 
 nearly two years, hegan to feel that perhaps he had 
 been shipwrecked or died. Just as this period was 
 expiring a letter came from him, stating that he was 
 very comfortably situated among relatives and would 
 probably remain away for three years more, also 
 the interesting information that he was to be married 
 to an old-time sweetheart. 
 
 Soon after this the trail across the mountains, near 
 to McGilvray's house, was opened as a public road 
 to Arendtsville, and was much frequented by travel- 
 ers. Many of these sought accommodations at the 
 stone mansion, but the Ludwigs were loath to adver- 
 tise the place as an inn without the knowledge and 
 consent of the owner. Travel became so heavy that 
 Ludwig wrote to McGilvray and asked him if he 
 might rent the house to use it as a tavern, and offer- 
 ing him a fixed rental per year for three years. 
 There was a prompt reply that he would be glad to 
 let the house for the purpose indicated, the amount 
 of rental was satisfactory, but that he would prefer 
 to have it paid in one lump sum on his return. 
 
 At the end of the three years McGilvray wrote that 
 if Ludwig was willing he might continue on the same 
 terms for three years more, and to pay the taxes 
 which could be deducted from the rental. 
 
 The tavern was a favorite resort for travelers, and
 
 154 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 the rental was renewed every three years, until Adam 
 Ludwig, who became know r n as "Old Adam,'' died, 
 and was succeeded by his son, "Young Adam." 
 McGilvray also must have died about this time, for 
 no other letters came from him, and Young Adam 
 continued to pay the taxes. 
 
 In the house-cleaning incidental to the new land- 
 lord's accession the iron box, which had been kept 
 for years under "Old Adam's" long-legged bed was 
 taken upstairs to the garret. There under the dark, 
 cobwebby eaves it continued to rest for many a year, 
 becoming steadilv rustier and dingier, a forbidden- 
 looking box of mystery. "Young Adam" had often 
 heard his father and mother talk of the box, and in 
 a vague way knew that it contained the manuscript 
 of some ancient poems relating to the early history 
 of Scotland in some obsolete language, but he never 
 tried to delve into the subject any deeper. 
 
 Years passed, and "Young Adam" in turn became 
 "Old Adam," and by virtue of paying taxes and 
 possession for upwards of twenty-one years, be- 
 came the actual possessor of the stone house and its 
 surrounding lands. He was an honest man, and 
 openly stated that if McGilvray or his rightful heirs 
 returned he would turn the house and farm over with- 
 out a protest, but he did not feel like hunting for 
 people who showed such a lack of interest in a prop- 
 erty. 
 
 For- many years Ludwig's wife and daughters at- 
 tended to the wants of the travelers, but the girls
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 155 
 
 finally married and went away, leaving too great a 
 burden on the middle-aged landlady. 
 
 One of the sons, Adam :>d, had become a land- 
 lord in Mercersburg and married there. His wife 
 had a sister who said that she was willing to work 
 out for a time and agreed to go to the South Moun- 
 tains. This volunteer, named Linda Hatcher, was a 
 girl of more than ordinary good looks. It was re- 
 ported that she was in love with Johnny Kilgore, the 
 great hunter, who sometimes came to the tavern with 
 his pack of deer hounds. Linda had met him while 
 en a visit there, and it was not long after that she 
 expressed a desire to "help out" at the remote spot 
 where few town girls, even at that early day, would 
 have cared to linger long without such an ulterior 
 purpose. 
 
 Adam Ludwig. ord. in Mercersburg, became ac- 
 quainted with a young professor at the college, a man 
 of about the same age, twenty-three, and in describ- 
 ing his boyhood home in the mountains told of the 
 mysterious old Revolutionary soldier and the box 
 containing the manuscripts of early Scottish poetry. 
 
 "\\ere they the Poems of Ossian." said the pro- 
 fessor, who was an omniverous reader and student. 
 "Yes. sir. that's the name, I'm sure." replied the 
 young boniface. 
 
 The educator was tremendously impressed, and felt 
 that he was on the threshold of the most important 
 literary discovery of the century. One matter and 
 another prevented the weekly-planned, but inevitably
 
 156 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 postponed "trip" to Buchanan Valley until a year had 
 slipped away imperceptably. Finally a date was set 
 for the last Sunday in August, about the year 1842, 
 the professor to furnish the horses, and the young 
 boniface to attend to the accommodation. They would 
 leave at three o'clock in the morning and arrive" at 
 their destination in time for Adam 3rd to introduce 
 his friend, arrange for him to stay, then, after sup- 
 per he would return and, by urging his horse, be 
 back in time to open his hotel on Monday morning. 
 In those times "days off" and vacation were seldom 
 taken, and all that the average man could see was an 
 endless vista of work. 
 
 It was a crisp, cool morning as the two young trav- 
 elers started away on their prancing steeds, the hoofs 
 rattling on the cobblestones of the inn-yard. Tho 
 Robins had begun caroling gayly in the tops of the old 
 maple trees along the street, the Martins weie singing 
 their sweetest about their ornate brightly painted 
 home on a tall pole across from the Seminary. 
 Everything was bright and crisp, and the dew sparkled 
 on the grass catching the first rays of the sun as it 
 rose from behind the South Mountains as they rode 
 out of town into the wide country. The young men 
 were well mounted, consequently arrived at the old 
 stone house on the Conewago before the deepening 
 colors of mountains and pines told of the approach 
 of the golden hour and sunset. The parents of Adam 
 3rd, with several of their grandchildren and their 
 helper, Linda Hatcher, were sitting on the benches
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 157 
 
 which flanked either side of the front door, enjoying 
 the cool stillness of the afternoon atmosphere, when 
 the two horsemen came into view beyond the ford. 
 There was a giant buttonwood tree close to the creek, 
 which threw its capacious branches and shade so far 
 that it seemed to be sheltering the old tavern under 
 its outstretched arms. Up in the branches a hand- 
 some cock Passenger Pigeon was chirping to -iis 
 Quaker colored mate, and this and the rippling of 
 the Conewago had put the sitters on the tavern poidi 
 almost into a trance state, in a calm accord with quiet 
 serenity of the long Sunday golden hour. They 
 jumped up quickly when they saw the approaching; 
 travelers, and the wild pigeons, frightened by the 
 clatter of the horses' hoofs on the loose stones by 
 the ford, flew away into the dense woods on the slope 
 of Piney Mountain. Even the dogs were aroused, 
 and ran forward barking vociferously. It did not 
 take Adam 3d's parents long to recognize him, and 
 while they were exchanging greetings, the young pro- 
 fessor from the College at Mercersburg was standing 
 nervously patting his horse's frothy chest and staring 
 at the pretty Linda Hatcher, who stood on the hotel 
 porch, her hands on her hips. She, from under her 
 lashes, looked at him, but not in the same terms of 
 admiration. He was a curious looking youth even 
 for that day. A great brown beard covered his 
 face, and hung down below his waist, his soft grey 
 hat was pulled down low and the color of his eyes 
 were concealed by heavy spectacles. "I wonder what
 
 158 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 he locks like back of that disguise," thought the girl. 
 ''Perhaps that is why he acts so bold." 
 
 The unattractive man always looks hard at lovely 
 specimens of the opposite sex, whereas his attractive 
 brother is supremely indifferent because all the girls 
 are looking at him. After all were introduced the 
 young men accompanied the elder Ludwig to the 
 stable and put away their horses. Adam -3d explained 
 how his friend, a great scholar, would like to go over 
 the contents of the iron box and it was arranged 
 to have it placed in his room the following morning. 
 In the living room before supper, during supper, and 
 all evening long the young savant could not keep his 
 eyes off pretty Linda Hatcher. He had never seen 
 her equal before, not even in Mercersburg, which 
 was famous for its beautiful girls. He was surprised 
 when he heard that she had until lately lived in that 
 town ; evidently there were many things that his 
 studious life compelled him to miss. Linda was of 
 the semi-blonde type, very slim, with well chiseled 
 features, blue eyes and very red lips, she was above 
 the medium height, with quick, nervous movements 
 and knew her beauty enough to be self-conscious 
 about it. She felt that it entitled her to choose 
 her admirers, and she detested homely men. Per- 
 haps the professor was not bad looking beneath his 
 shock of hair, his big spectacles and shaggy beard, 
 but he had no business to wear such disguises if he 
 would look at a girl of her pretensions. She evidently 
 forgot that Johnny Kilgore, the great hunter, also
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 159 
 
 wore his black hair very long and had a beard of 
 ample dimensions, but his eyes were uncovered by 
 glasses and were piercingly and vividly black, besides, 
 all the girls who saw him called him a handsome man, 
 and that was everything. \\ ould she ever be lucky 
 enough for Johnny Kilgore to fancy her, she thought. 
 Linda resented the professor's silent attentions, 
 and disliked to see those spectacled eyes following 
 her wherever she went. Sse had to show him to 
 his room, a task she hated, and while she handed him 
 the key he kept eyeing- her all the while, until she 
 felt so uncomfortable that she used ''cuss words'' to 
 herself as she ran along the hall and down the stairs. 
 In the morning Adam Ludwig recollected that he 
 had no key to the massive lock which held the iron 
 box inviolate. lie did not like to break it, as it had 
 been closed by the old Scotchman, whose heirs might 
 send for it some time. At the same time he had 
 never been told not to open it. If the professor 
 did not object he would yoke up his team of oxen 
 and take it to the blacksmith down the creek, and 
 have it back before dinner time. The professor 
 acquiesced and meanwhile he would take a stroll up 
 the mountain, across the ford, and examine the ilora 
 and avi-fauna of the neighborhood. He wanted a 
 Passenger Pigeon's nest, perhaps the pair that had 
 rli>wn off the big sycamore as they crossed the ford 
 the day before had been breeding, and their nest 
 might be found in one of the ancient beeches or hem- 
 locks alon" the "first bench" of Pinev Mountain.
 
 160 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Then there was the Blue Spring to visit, so beautifully 
 situated among wide-spreading chestnut trees. Lud- 
 wig took the box to the blacksmith and had a key fit- 
 ted, returned and had the musty pile of parchments 
 and vellums on the table in the professor's room by 
 nine o'clock. The bed as yet had not been made up, 
 and the contents of the educator's saddle bags, ap- 
 parel, boots, note books, specimen cases and the like 
 were distributed on all the tables and chairs. 
 
 While the professor was botanizing and looking 
 for a pigeon nest the sky grew overcast and a heavy 
 and cold wind commenced blowing. He was a long 
 ways up the mountain side, but hurried down over 
 the rocks, as the fierce wind was shaking down leaves 
 from the trees like on a day in Autumn, and the 
 frigid gusts betokened a severe thunder storm. At 
 the tavern the gale beat against the old house unceas- 
 ingly, and the professor's window being open, the 
 wind swept through with fury, blowing all the papers 
 and vellums of the Proofs of Ossian down on the 
 floor. The room was in fearful state, with the rain 
 pelting in when Linda entered to "make the bed." 
 "What a fool man," she said to herself. "Why can't 
 he be orderly and neat? He thinks no one. cares 
 since he is disguised." She slammed the window 
 angrily, and began mopping up the water which had 
 run all over the wooden floor in big pools. Then 
 she commenced picking up the dirty papers and sheep- 
 skins until her arms were filled with them. "Where 
 could that crazy man have kept all this trash; there's
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 161 
 
 no room for it in his saddlebags or anywhere." 
 There was a ten-plate stove in the room, with the 
 door standing wide open. "I'll store the things in 
 there, and when I see him after he gets back I'll tell 
 him it's as good a place as any." 
 
 She made up the room hastily and carelessly, and 
 rushed out, glad to get away from such hateful sur- 
 roundings. Downstairs she .heard Ludwig remark 
 that he had put "the valuable papers in the professor's 
 room," but she made no comment. 
 
 It was not long after that Lud wig's wife, shudder- 
 ing from the sudden change in the weather, told one 
 of her granddaughters, "Little Molly," named for 
 her illustrious relation, to go upstairs and light a fire 
 in the guest's room. The child obeyed, and when she 
 got there struck a flint, and soon had the mass of 
 parchments blazing away furiously. She waited 
 until all was burning then slammed the stove door 
 and. started down the hall. At the head of the stairs 
 she met Linda Hatcher coming up with a jug of 
 water. "Where are you coming from Molly," she 
 inquired, seeing the child carrying the flint box. 
 "Grandmother told me to light a tire in the profes- 
 sor's stove, and I made a good one." Linda Hatcher 
 did not know whether to laugh or cry ; she did neither, 
 but gripping the' jug firmly ran towards the profes- 
 sor's apartment. "What have I done " screamed 
 Little Molly, running after her. "You have set fire 
 to all those valuable papers that Grandfather took 
 out of the old iron box this morning." "Then I'm
 
 162 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 in for a licking sure," shrieked the child. "No, you're 
 not," said Linda, almost out of breath. "If anyone's 
 to be licked it's me. It was my fault." 
 
 Reaching the room, she put her hand under her 
 apron, and flung open the swinging door of the stove. 
 A glance told her it was too late ; only a few corners 
 remained uncharred of the priceless proofs of Ossian. 
 She was on her knees before the stove, trying to sort 
 out and piece together what few remnants that sur- 
 vived when, unheard by her, the professor entered 
 the room. The girl did not speak, but went on with 
 her work as if no one was present. The professor 
 broke the silence. "Can I help you clean out the 
 stove, or do anything," he queried. She did not 
 answer, but swung the stove door shut with a bang, 
 and sprang to her feet. As she reached the door she 
 stopped, saying. ''I've done a very foolish thing. I 
 put your old manuscripts in the stove for safe keep- 
 ing; Mrs. Ludwig had a fire started to take the chill 
 out of tiie room ; 1 only heard of it too late ; I came 
 running; there's nothing left but the ashes." She 
 slammed the door and her defiant manner vanished. 
 
 She was crying as she went down the hall, for she 
 knew that it was her pride that had made possible 
 this lamentable conflagration. As for the professor, 
 he sat speechless before the smoking fragments. 
 "The literary sensation of the century," which he 
 had hoped to sponsor, would never take place ! After 
 a time he recovered himself and sorted the ashes and 
 charred papers with careful touch; all was destroye-1
 
 3OUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 163 
 
 beyond recall, yet the Gaelic characters on the conr-r<-- 
 'of the few pieces of heavy parchment which were left 
 told him beyond words that the mass of manuscript 
 had been the long-missing proof of Ossian. It seem- 
 ed that the fates had conspired to prevent MacPher- 
 son's memory from receiving an eleventh hour vindi- 
 cation. 
 
 #
 
 XII. A Ghost Flower 
 
 IN Fulton County, in the Township of Ayr, there 
 is a high grazing land which overtops many 
 mountains and commands a superb view r in every 
 direction ; there is no underbrush among the few 
 oaks and chestnuts which remain, and there was none 
 in Colonial days, as the bison had made it a favorite 
 resting place, cleaning it as effectually as if a force 
 of men with grubbing hoes and brush hooks had been 
 over it. It was known to the earliest white settlers 
 as "the Park," and the "Pasture," but between the 
 time that the buffaloes were driven off and the white 
 pioneers came in it was used as a tarrying ground 
 for beleagured Indians, moving from place to place, 
 in vain trying to rest quietly away from their im- 
 placable pale faced foes. From this high, wind-swept 
 elevation they could note the light of camp-fires or 
 cabins in the far distant coves and get a general idea 
 of how to best protect themselves. Gradually they 
 came less frequently until the last party, possibly 
 Senecas, driven south, and then north again by their 
 white enemies, and unfriendly Indians of other 
 tribes, came to lay away, according to their tribal 
 custom, the daughter of the chief warrior of the band. 
 The girl was of extreme beauty, and but eighteen 
 years of age. when overcome by a sudden cold, pneu- 
 monia developed and she passed away after a day of 
 intense suffering. It would have pleased the be- 
 reaved parents mightily if they could have brought 
 
 164
 
 165 
 
 the body of their loved one back to the shaded, peace- 
 ful burying ground overlooking their old home on 
 the Ohe-yu, or The Beautiful River, which the white 
 men arbitrarily re-named "The Allegheny," near the 
 present town of Roulette, in Potter County, and 
 where her brothers and sisters rested, for she was 
 the last of the family, but it was hard enough to 
 transport themselves and mid enough food to live 
 on, without taking a corpse as part of their caravan. 
 Besides, it was May, warm weather was coming on ; 
 it would not do to transport a body at that period, 
 which the Senecas called the Moon of the White Blos- 
 soms. Nature was resplendent in her white dress of 
 purity, and if the dead girl at this time could be liken- 
 ed to any blossom, she might be called a ghost flower. 
 In order to protect the body from wolves, yet give 
 it a view of the beauties of the surrounding region, 
 for the Senecas ascribed a certain sentience to the 
 body until it had crumbled to bits with the wind, a 
 high platform of hickory poles was constructed, on 
 which sat the fair corpse upright on a chair, as if 
 in life. Ten feet below the wolves might leap and 
 snarl to their heart's content, and howl and yowl 
 at their discomfiture, and chase their shadows on the 
 lawn, but they could not touch the body sitting up 
 there so serenely, with the moonlight shining full in 
 her face! The panther could climb the poles, or 
 bring the whole structure down by his weight, but 
 this giant cat never would touch dead flesh, though 
 there are stories of extant panthers poisoned by eat-
 
 166 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ing carcarsses of horses and steers saturated with 
 strychnine. At any event, they did not touch dead 
 flesh in Indian times, maybe later on when famished 
 for food they may have been pushed to this extremity 
 and perished for their hardihood. There is a story 
 told by the very old people in Bedford County of how 
 a panther visited a back pasture near Scrub Ridge 
 and killed a two-year-old colt. The monster sucked 
 the blood and went away, leaving its great tracks in 
 the soft ground in the field. The carcass was dosed 
 with arsenic and the panther, returning the next night, 
 on sampling the meat, fell dead not many feet from 
 the remains of his victim. \Yhen the settlers visited 
 the spot the next morning they were appalled by the 
 size of the monster they had slain, and declared that 
 lying there, even in death, with claws clutched con- 
 vulsively, it looked every inch a king. As the Indian 
 girl who died was the last of her family, and was 
 so amiable as well as beautiful in life, her bereaved 
 parents wished to make their final offering to her 
 in keeping with their great love. They dressed her 
 in the best of her meagre supply of clothing, wound 
 her with strings of many colored beads, painted her 
 face white, with red cheeks and red lips, propped 
 open the eyes and painted the most graceful brows, 
 arranged her hair most tastefully, and decked it out 
 with blossoms of the hawthorne, while her beaded 
 raiment was half buried behind garlands of spring 
 flowers, ground pine and pipsissewa. Her couch 
 or settee was completely twined with evergreen
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 167 
 
 boughs and vines, interspersed with bunches of 
 flowering blossoms, trillums, columbines and gen- 
 tians. The poles and cross-stringers of the fu- 
 neral edifice were decked with hemlock houghs, 
 made ornate by flowers. It was a skilful mingling 
 of life and death, and every effort made to have in 
 it as little of the gruesome as possible. The grief 
 of the desolated parents was pitiable to behold, espe- 
 cially the old chief, who. like his race, shed no tears, 
 but his lined and furrowed face spoke volumes. 
 
 It was on a beautiful afternoon in the Moon of the 
 White Hlossoms that the ornate corpse was to be 
 left seated in solitarv grandeur, facing the west, the 
 supposed original home of . the progenitors of the 
 Indian race. Could the expression, ''gone west." as 
 applied to death by the llritish soldiers in the World 
 War be of Canadian- Indian origin? It was the be- 
 lief of many of the Eastern Indians that their souls 
 went west at death, to take a long sea journey. John 
 Smoke, a Clinton County Indian eighty years of age, 
 told Seth Xelson, Jr., about ISoO, that the Senecas 
 believed that they came to America across a narrow 
 strip of land from a far-distant western Continent; 
 storms had washed a\vav this peninsula; that 
 they could not return except after death, when their 
 spirits essaved towards the setting sun. "The Indian 
 girl's body bedecked, and hung with flov/ers, and 
 beads and all the ornaments that could be gathered up 
 was carried gently up a ladder by her father and 
 I laced on her silent pedestal. The father then re-
 
 168 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 turned by the ladder, which he hacked to pieces so 
 that no one might use it again, and after both he and 
 his squaw had taken a last lingering look at their be- 
 loved seated up there all alone, at the head of their 
 little band, they started towards the north, to try 
 and fight their way back to the more secure regions 
 at the headwaters of the Beautiful River. It was a 
 bitter blow for the old couple, and they seemed to 
 have aged ten years by it, but they maintained their 
 stoical composure and marched with heads held high, 
 as if to show their understanding that the Gitchi- 
 Manito, or Great Spirit, knew best. The brief 
 Spring afternoon faded into the Golden Hour, the 
 long shadows presaged the setting sun, which from 
 beyond Ray's Hill shed its ashes of roses against 
 the unblinking eyes of the dead maiden. The sun- 
 set softened into dusk ,and soon it was dark and a 
 new moon, the moon of the White Blossoms, poured 
 its calming incandescence upon the rigid upturned 
 face. 
 
 Morning came and went and the days and nights 
 passed, the coolness of nights closely approaching 
 frost, so that decomposition did not hasten its dread- 
 ful course. It was the last night of the last quarter 
 of this moon that a wild pigeon hunter, who had 
 been fishing for squabs with a torch at a distant 
 nesting ground, passed through ''the Park" on his 
 homeward journey to his cabin in the Cove. He 
 carried a burlap bag chock full of squabs, over his 
 shoulder, and used the pole on which he had fixed
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 169 
 
 his torch, as a staff. As he proceeded through the 
 grove of tall oaks and chestnuts he noticed the plat- 
 form on the four high poles, and as he neared it the 
 cold moonlight was shining full into the placid face 
 of the dead Indian girl. The pigeon hunter stopped 
 in front of the platform, laying his bag of squabs on 
 the ground. He was struck by the beauty of the 
 girl even in death, the savage make-up of whitened 
 skin, red lips, red cheeks and black brows only made 
 her charm of features stand out in bolder relief, all 
 shimmering with the silver of a dying moon. He 
 caught hold of one of the poles, ami tried to shake it, 
 as if to test its stability. He was not a heavy man, 
 nor tall, so in an instant he "shinned" up the pole, 
 and was standing on the platform, looking into the 
 face of the corpse. He could not believe her dead. 
 "Oh, why." he said, looking at the unblinking moon, 
 "must such beauty die? If only I had known her 
 and loved her she might have still been alive ; she 
 could not have left one who appreciated her loveli- 
 ness like I would have done !" Several times he turn- 
 ed away, as if to leave, but always came back to 
 stand before the corpse. Suddenly an idea came to 
 him and he spoke aloud. "Perhaps she is not dead, 
 but merely in a trance. I will take her to my cabin, 
 for it is cold, and build up a good fire, and lay her 
 on my couch before it, and she may be warmed back 
 to life. T have heard the old witch women say that 
 many persons die from lack of warmth of love ; I 
 shall try this on her, and T may win her back from
 
 170 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 the worms.'' Stooping down he picked her up in his 
 arms, the corpse was as light as a feather, and with 
 rare agility brought her down the pole in safety. 
 Leaving his staff on the ground, and tieing his bag of 
 squabs to a limb of a tree out of reach of wolves or 
 foxes, he resumed his journey, carrying the dead 
 Indian girl like a mother would dandle a baby. It 
 was a five mile walk, over a steep uncertain trail for 
 the most part until he reached his little log cabin by 
 the boiling spring in the Cove. He unbolted the door 
 and sat the corpse in a chair while he lighted a 
 fire in the huge chimney. He put on plenty of knots 
 and rich pine, so that soon the entire room was alight 
 with the lurid glow throwing into relief the rigid 
 figure on the chair, as well as the flint-locks, powder- 
 horns and antlers hung about the walls. He moved 
 his bunk, with its buffalo robe coverings, in front of 
 the tire, and stretched the body of the dead girl out 
 on it. Then he sat down in a corner of the hearth to 
 tend the fire. He kept a great blaze going; every 
 now and then he would feel the dead girl's hands to 
 see if they showed any signs of life. It was a fan- 
 tastic thing to do. and would have been termed mor- 
 bid if done by a person of education, but to this 
 uncouth hunter it was merely trying to put into prac- 
 tice what the old witch women of the mountains de- 
 clared was possible to renew life. After a while the 
 warmth sent out by the fire, and the spices on the 
 corpse, made the air very heavy in the room and 
 continued to lull him towards slumberland. His
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 171 
 
 head nodded on his breast several times and he 
 pulled his beard and tried every resolution to keep 
 awake, but he was finally caught up by the whirlpool 
 of dreams and swept away into that border realm of 
 eternity. He must have dreamed, though he was 
 sure he did not, that it was all real that as he 
 watched the dead girl she began to stir on the couch, 
 gradually raising her head, and blinking her eyes. 
 She pulled herself up a trifle, and looked around. 
 She sat upright, tossing aside the buffalo robe which 
 had covered her limbs. She looked into the various 
 corners of the room, noticing the hunter seated on 
 the rush-bottom chair in the inglenook. The light 
 that showed in her eyes may have come from the fire, 
 but the hunter was sure that it was the light of life 
 and understanding and something of love. She 
 whirled around on the couch and sat with her pretty 
 nioccasined feet tapping on the buffalo robe which 
 she had tossed to the floor, her hands resting on the 
 couch. With her hands she braced herself and stood 
 erect on the buffalo robe, swaying a trifle from side 
 to side, her eyes fixed on the hunter. For some 
 reason he could not rise to assist her, but allowed her 
 to stand there swaying, swaying, swaying, like a ghost 
 flower in a Maytime gale. She stood for some 
 time, as if not quite sure enough of her strength to 
 make a step. The hunter had every confidence that 
 she would soon walk, but as she looked at him so 
 steadily he was sure that she would come towards 
 him. Was ever mortal happier than he; if she took
 
 172 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 a step she was surely of the quick, and not of the 
 dead, and would belong to him. He had heard the 
 old witch women say that if a person is called back 
 from death, they can never die again, so that if she 
 lived she would be his forever, or until he would be 
 called to leave her for eternity. Why did she ponder 
 so long? She had the strength to rise up on the 
 couch, and seat herself with her feet tapping on the 
 floor, then to stand erect, why would she not attempt 
 to walk. As he watched he noticed that her feet 
 began to move somewhat ; she was beginning to walk. 
 She took one step towards him, two steps, begin a 
 third, in two more she would be at his side. His 
 heart beat in a frenzy of emotion. As she completed 
 the third step she suddenly doubled up, and fell with 
 a crash, like a bag of bones at his feet. He stooped 
 to lift her up, and she came all apart in his arms. 
 The bead fell off and rolled on the floor, almost into 
 the fire, the arms and legs dropped off and at last he 
 only retained a part of the torso in his grasp which 
 he later dropped to the floor from sheer excitement. 
 He was now wide awake, was never more so in his 
 life, and he found himself standing before the couch, 
 the floor was strewn with the disjointed relics of the 
 dead girl, already the fire had begun to singe her 
 raven locks. He rescued the precious head before it 
 was too late, and placed it with torso, arms and legs 
 on the couch, and gazed with a mingling of sorrow 
 and despair on all that was mortal of one from 
 whom the spirit had surely fled. He gathered the
 
 The Millrace 
 
 in 
 Buchanan Valley 
 
 ^
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 i.-' -he wa? snrvly ( _,| -,he quick, and not of the 
 
 .- d wou'd be'i-n^ [> him. .Me had heard the 
 
 ! i \v(-.ncn sav th-it if a person :s eaiied back 
 
 . death., the\- can IKMT lie again. >o that if she 
 
 >;ic uou'd be his forever, or until he would be 
 
 d to leave her tor eternity. \Vh\ did she ponder 
 
 '.;ng ' ^!>e Isad :he sti-fti^th to rise up on tlv 
 
 !i, ;u; 1 srr.t herself with lier feet tapping on the 
 
 -t;ind t-rect. \\liy vv-aild .-he not attempt 
 
 \-. he w;r<:hed he nc icod that her feet 
 
 "t" tt ~~ < 
 
 ; i towards hun, u\n ^teps 
 
 Hi-- 
 eted 
 
 fel ; with, 
 stooped 
 ,ms. 
 >st int! 
 
 (ir-.t] '.egs di-o])j)cd ofV and ;.t last h<' 
 ji;;rt of 'hi. I'irso in his |^ra-'p \\hieii 
 
 ir. the HI ',ir from sheer e\. Yemeni 
 
 '<. i\' ::'--;-. ur=- nevt-r mo^e s r * in hu 
 
 I'T^elf standing before IIK couch. 
 
 ;r ii the disjointed lehcs of the 
 
 !v ;: u -ire had hc^im ;o sini, r e her 
 
 n M' ici-; ihe preciui: ; head before it 
 ; Mkuxd "i with tur-^o. iirms and legs 
 ' yaxed with " -n n:.:i'.ug of Borrow 
 
 ! ! thar \vas S'i!'5i*'j J >f one from 
 .d sure; 1 -- rte ! "-^* leathered tlie
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 173 
 
 remains together in the buckskin skirt, so decorated 
 with gaudy fringes and heads of many colors, and 
 left the bundle on the couch until morning. Then 
 he stretched himself out on the floor and slept until 
 daybreak. By the first rays of dawn he started up 
 the steep uncertain trail, carrying the remnants of 
 the Indian girl. When he reached the platform at 
 the "Park" he nimbly climbed up one of the poles 
 and deposited the bundle on the settee, then came 
 nimbly down. He found his staff and cut down the 
 bag of squabs and started homeward along the steep, 
 uneven trail. Even if he had returned the girl's 
 bones to her place of sepulture chosen by her parents, 
 the spiritual part of her, the ghost, or wraith pre- 
 ferred to stay back at the cabin by the Boiling Spring. 
 As he neared his cabin, in the broad daylight of noon, 
 he saw the Indian girl walking in his little flower 
 garden, looking radiant and happy, the very antithesis 
 of death. He was too steeped in mountain lore to 
 even be surprised; a mountaineer must never allow 
 anything to disturb him ; he is taught that all things 
 are a part of Nature, that nothing is supernatural, 
 and that the words "marvelous" and "surprised" are 
 unworthy of memorizing. He made no attempt to 
 go near the ghost, as he wanted her to come again, 
 and feel at home, so he went indoors and put a mess 
 of squabs to boil, when he went outside to get some 
 more water the ghost was gone. He had judged the 
 situation rightly, for every day the ghost walked 
 about the garden, so he tramped to the county seat
 
 174 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 and got the seeds of many tame posies and trans- 
 planted many wild flowers from the forests to please 
 her, making the tiny plot a veritable bower. Every 
 night she would appear in the cabin, even when the 
 hunter's friends were present, and on cold nights 
 would be shivering as she came, and stand close 
 before the fire to warm herself. He never spoke to 
 her, nor would he allow his friends to do so. He 
 felt that if he spoke first he might ''lay'' her, and she 
 could never return, and that might make her very 
 unhappy, and she would wail but could not be seen. 
 If she spoke first all would be well, but never did 
 she break her silence, just walked in the garden or 
 enjoyed the inglenook, and faintly smiled. But it 
 delighted him to have this charming ghost about the 
 place, and he truly loved her more than most men 
 could a woman of flesh and blocd. Many men have 
 worshipped an ideal, yet here was one who saw her, 
 if not in the. flesh, in the spirit! And as he grew old 
 the ghost ever seemed young, and even more beauti- 
 ful, and when he passed away at the age of eighty- 
 eight it was with a sense of joy to go. Those who 
 tended his last illness knew the reason why, and the 
 ghost was in the room, standing by the fire on the 
 night he breathed his last. The next morning, it was 
 in the month of the \Yhite Blossoms, when the neigh- 
 bor men came to lay him out they saw him walking in 
 the tiny garden with its slab fence all over-grown with 
 trumpet vines, hand in hand with his Indian girl. 
 They laid out the corpse and carried it to its last
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 175 
 
 i.r 
 
 resting place on the Pike, but they knew that his spirit 
 was in the garden, where a ghost flower was its 
 choicest bloom. 
 
 Out on the high pasture there is present every 
 summer a wonderful jungle of sumac just where the 
 funeral pavilion of the Indian girl was located, 
 which aptly proves the belief of the Indians that there 
 was also an immortality of the body. Every Spring 
 the fresh vigorous growth completely shades the spot, 
 the stems at that same rare yellowish pink brown that 
 was the color of her lithe body, and as the season 
 waxes from Summer into Autumn the flaming brick 
 red berries in great luxurious clusters are of the hue 
 that she was so fond of rubbing on her smooth cheeks 
 in the brief days of her hectic life. It is by such sym- 
 bols she lives, and enjoys the sunrise, the sunset, the 
 bree/.es and the rains, just as when she formed a part 
 of the endless cycle of existence with her beautiful 
 body.
 
 XIII. The Wolfs Glen 
 
 OX \Yolf Camp Run, in Bedford County, in the 
 last decade of the Eighteenth Century, stood 
 an old log water mill, the first one built in 
 that section of the State, and such a curious looking 
 structure that no person could see it and ever forget. 
 Though it was the only place where one could get a 
 grist ground for miles around, the meagreness of 
 the population and inefficient management caused it 
 to close down every few years, until it was perma- 
 nently abandoned. It was left idle at one period for 
 nearly five years, the surroundings becoming over- 
 grown with rank weeds and grass and the building 
 itself an abode for snakes, lizards, toads, skunks, 
 woodchucks and screech owls. It was also rumored 
 that the mill was haunted, but these stories may have 
 come from the variety of sounds of the wild denizens 
 which inhabited it, or rats in the wooden machinery. 
 To the west of the mill the Wolf's Glen opened into 
 the narrow valley of Wolf Camp Run, and in days 
 still earlier had been a favorite "crossing" for great 
 packs of wolves, and in the pools of Little Wolf Run, 
 in the Glen, they often bathed in the warm evenings 
 of Summer. The large packs which howled about 
 the old mill when it was first built came no more ; 
 they had crossed the run on the ice about the breast 
 of the dam. and made good shooting from the upper 
 windows of the mill on nights when there was clear 
 moonlight. They seemed to prefer being shot down 
 
 176
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 177 
 
 than to change their route, which they had followed 
 for centuries, and fell ready victims to an unflinch- 
 ing principle. Once in a while a wolf or two would 
 be tracked or met with in the forests, sometimes 
 chasing deer, or stealthily crossing some wood road. 
 On nights in the fall of the year wolves would howl 
 at one another from the loneliest knobs, making the 
 residents of the valley shiver with terror. 
 
 There was an early settler on Wolf Camp, named 
 Harman AlcXeely, who had a very strange experience 
 with a wolf, that has been whispered down the gen- 
 erations as absolute fact. This young man was a 
 noted hunter and trapper ; in fact, his love for the 
 chase was so great that he never cleared a farm in 
 his life. There was nothing to show for his strenu- 
 ous career except on the Bounty lists in the Court 
 House. He made his home with a married sister 
 and her husband, a well-to-do, thrifty couple, very 
 different from the forest-straying young Nimrod. 
 ( )n one occasion, in the late summer, McNeely was 
 walking down the hollow, after an unsuccessful day's 
 hunt. It would be close to sundown when he passed 
 the deserted mill. His gun was across his shoulder 
 and he was meandering along as he was in no hurry, 
 and the shady trail seemed as good a place to be as 
 anywhere else. All at once he heard some slight stir 
 of the branches, and noticed a black wolf come out 
 into the middle of the path about one hundred feet 
 in front of him, stand still, looking at him intently. 
 Then the animal dropped its bushy tail between its
 
 178 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 legs and galloped down the path towards the mill 
 site. For once in his life Harman McNeely had suf- 
 fered from what the mountaineers call ''harsh fever." 
 Jt had attacked him virulently, as he had not even 
 taken his rifle off his shoulder. But he soon recov- 
 ered himself and started in pursuit of the wolf in 
 order to get a shot at it. As he emerged from the 
 forest he saw it dart into the abandoned mill. It 
 would he a dark place to go in and shoot it, and he- 
 sides it might be a spook wolf, so he stood on the 
 verge of the woods and watched for the animal to 
 reappear. It was 1 a somewhat tedious wait. After 
 the sun had disappeared behind the knobs above 
 Little \Yolf Run, and a dreary stillness was over- 
 shadowing the scene and the air grew colder, the 
 hunter noticed the form of a beautiful young woman 
 emerge from the open door of the mill. What was 
 she doing there, and what had she thought of the 
 sudden visit from the wolf? If she was a ghost of 
 any kind he must not speak to her first, she would 
 vanish; if real flesh and blood it would embarrass 
 her if she found herself observed. To his surprise 
 the girl came towards him, innocent of all clothing, 
 and he stood rooted to the spot in admiration. She 
 was quite tall, with rounded ultra-feminine features, 
 dark brown hair and very smooth but rather swarthy 
 complexion, her whole form being supple and grace- 
 ful in the etxreme. When she saw him, like a beard- 
 ed satyr standing among the leafy boughs, she pro- 
 fessed to express surprise and chagrin. It was all so
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 179 
 
 very terrible to encounter a man in her condition, 
 but perhaps if he would forgive he might help 
 her. Early in the afternoon she had gone swimming 
 in the race, and while 'she was in the water and her 
 hack was turned, some malicious person had entered 
 the mill where she had disrobed, and made off with 
 her apparel ! She had been traveling through the 
 country with friends, she feared that they were not 
 waiting for her, and she was stranded without a gar- 
 ment in a strange country ; had he seen a number of 
 travelers where the highway crossed the head of 
 the run, if he had come that way? 
 
 McNeely listened pretending to be impressed, but 
 all the while cherishing his own opinion of the strange 
 beauty. "I have not seen, anyone this afternoon, but 
 if y;;u will wear my coat you can come to my sister's 
 he me for the night or until I can find your compan- 
 ions." No matter what she was. it was worth the 
 adventure. The girl was lovely to look upon, and 
 spoke in a voice so' melodious that it resembled the 
 tinkling of a silver bell, like were sometimes put on 
 sheep to charm away the wolves. He explained that his 
 sister lived about two miles below the mill, that they 
 might arrive there by dark, if they walked briskly. 
 All the while the girl bemoaned her lost clothing and 
 friends, but the hunter did not believe a word she 
 said, lie maintained his very sympathetic atttitude, 
 for lie loved good looks and saw only too few fair 
 women in the wilderness. Once in Philadelphia he 
 had stood on the curbstone and watched the belles of
 
 180 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 that city going to the Assembly Ball, and they all had 
 faces like the charming creature walking at his side 
 When he reached his sister's house he knocked, and 
 the good woman came to the door. He explained his 
 fair companion's predicament which was, of course, 
 believed, and she was immediately provided with 
 clothing, his sister's black silk dress, of course! It 
 was the only silk dress for miles around, the envy of 
 the mountain women, but nothing was too good for 
 this elegant looking female in distress. She told a 
 long story, to which McXeely's sister, her husband, 
 and all the children listened attentively. The hunter 
 pretended to listen, but in reality he was more intent 
 on outwitting his visitor than to hear her glib false- 
 hoods. 
 
 "She must feel very tired from fright," the hunter's 
 sister suggested. The best room in the house was up 
 a ladder, with a grand bed in it that came all the way 
 from Philadelphia. It had been made in Dublin, of 
 the finest Irish walnut. The stranger, still anxious to 
 create a favorable impression, went up the ladder 
 without a murmur, and closed the trap-door after her. 
 The whole family wanted to talk at once about her 
 terrible misfortunes, but the young hunter stole away 
 to his room and threw himself on his bunk, so as to 
 think succinctly. He left his door ajar until all the 
 members of the household had retired, then stole 
 softly out of his room, and out of doors. He hurried 
 up the hollow until he came to the deserted water mill, 
 which he entered.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 181 
 
 There \vas an almost full moon, and on the floor 
 he saw a fresh wolf hide, very dark, lying there like 
 a snake would shed its skin ! He picked it up and 
 carried it over to the disused mill wheel and securely 
 nailed it on. It was in a place where it could not be 
 seen, and would amply serve his purposes. Then he 
 chuckled to himself, and as in the afternoon meander- 
 ed down the moonlit path, which followed the creek, 
 until he was at home. He went indoors, and into his 
 room, where he lay on his couch, with his face to the 
 door, which led into the kitchen or living room. He 
 strove to keep awake, but fell into a doze many times 
 before daybreak. He got up early and went into the 
 kitchen, sitting by the fireplace, cleaning his rifle, his 
 eyes intent on the ladder. It was not long before he 
 heard footsteps on the floor above, the trap was open- 
 ed, and the fair stranger descended. Oh, what a 
 cbange there was! She must have had a terrible 
 night with the unseen forces. Her beautiful face 
 was as white as chalk, her lips were bloodless, great 
 dark circles were under her eyes, her hand was cold 
 and trembling when she bade him "good-morning." 
 McXeely thought to himself, "What iron nerve she 
 has, even when she's defeated. I admire her pluck !" 
 She knew that he had her in his power and was re- 
 solved to make the best of it. The girl apologized 
 for her nervousness, said that she never slept well in 
 ;> strange bed. and the window was nailed shut. She 
 made herself very agreeable to the simple house- 
 holders and showed no desire for going away. Slie
 
 182 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 turned in and worked, and worked hard, and became 
 as if she was one of them. Her elegant manners modi- 
 fied, but her silvery voice, "like an angel's tones," as 
 McXeely's sister called it, remained the same. She 
 stayed and stayed, but the good-hearted people were 
 too glad to have her to question. 
 
 In the course of a few months the hunter took her 
 to th.e County Seat and was married to her at the 
 Court House. For nearly a year all went well, until 
 McNeely built a new log house near where the old 
 Indian path to Maryland crossed the mountains. It 
 was not far from the mouth of XYolf Camp Run. and 
 still further from the creek, the deserted water mill. 
 Instead of being happy in a home of her own, the 
 mysterious bride became restless and irritable. She 
 had restrained herself before his relatives, but now 
 had nothing to hold her in, so chafed and fretted 
 incessantly. AlcXeely tried to humor her. and got 
 her all kinds of posies for her garden, and tried in 
 every way to please her. At first he had been charm- 
 ed by her physical perfections and by her resemblance 
 to the high-bred beauties of Philadelphia, but now he 
 genuinely loved her, and had forgotten her devilish 
 origin. It pained him that she was dissatisfied and 
 he asked her what was wrong. "She's not happy, she 
 wants to go away," was all that he could get out of 
 her. "I will take you anywhere," he replied, "to Phil- 
 adelphia, or even to Ireland, if you will onlv love me 
 and be good to me." He was no farmer, and mostly 
 hunted and trapped to make a living, consequently
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 183 
 
 was away a good deal. "Come with me on my hunts," 
 he would say, ''or shall I give up hunting and stay 
 with you all the time." She would not accompany 
 him to the forests and bullied him when he remained 
 at home. Upset and distracted, he was glad to seek 
 solace in the wilds, for he loved her dearly, a.nd the 
 unkind treatment cut him to the heart. One morn- 
 ing in July he went up \Yolf Camp to bring in a mess 
 of trout leaving the sulky bride standing in her flower 
 garden, black faced and muttering to herself. He 
 passed the deserted water mill, and thought of the 
 wolf hide nailed to the wheel, and went in and tore it 
 down. Perhaps she would rest easier now, the nails 
 might be running into her and making her steadily 
 mere unruly. Me tossed the hide into the run, where 
 it was carried away in the dark, foamy current. 
 
 A short distance above the mill he met a strange 
 caravan moving clown the trail. It consisted of sixty- 
 three Indian:-; and seven squaws, having in their cus- 
 tody a white man prisoner, charged, one of their num- 
 ber told him, with having murdered their chief. This 
 prisoner they were conveying to General Washington 
 to ask sanction of the Great White Father, as they 
 called the former I 'resident, to make the blood atone- 
 ment ; in other words, to sacrifice according to their 
 custom, to drive his body full of blazing pine knots 
 and burn him at the stake. The prisoner seemed to 
 be a man about twenty-six years of age, of great self- 
 composure and nonchalance, as he marched along sur- 
 rounded by his captors. McNeely rather despised
 
 184 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 his type, not tall, of meagre build, his nose turned up, 
 and there were only signs of down on his ill-kept and 
 unshaven face. The Indians explained that they 
 were leaders at General St. Glair's defeat by the 
 Miami warriors and felt that they would receive con- 
 sideration at Mount Yernon. McNeely watched 
 them until they were out of sight, then began to fish. 
 The trout bit well that day, he had the right flies, and 
 he soon forgot all his troubles like a true disciple of 
 Isaak Walton, 
 
 While the dissatisfied bride was spading her posy 
 beds and mumbling incoherently, a great calm over- 
 spread her ; she felt that she was free ! She kept on 
 spading, but instead of gibbering meanness, was sing- 
 ing a song in a strange high key. She looked over the 
 slab fence and up the road. She stopped working and 
 rested on her spade. She saw the Indian caravan 
 drawing near, the great copper colored warriors, the 
 squaws bending under their heavy loads, the unkempt, 
 puny prisoner in their midst. As the captive passed 
 by the dark girl dropped the spade and sprang over 
 the unrooted spring flowers and sods to the fence. 
 "Where are you going with that man?" she shouted 
 to the stalwart Indians who surrounded him. Her 
 loud voice, it was not silvery but brazen, stopped the 
 caravan, and a very tall, very courteous warrior, who 
 seemed to be the leader, came to the fence and ex- 
 plained the situation as he had to McNeely an hour 
 earlier, and to probably a hundred other inquisitive 
 persons since they had left the town of Louisbourg,
 
 A Mountain Meadow 
 
 Near 
 New Baltimore
 
 r ; TH MOl NTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 t ;.!c igre build, IPS nose turned up, 
 
 t?ns oi down on his ill-kept and 
 
 The Indians explained that they 
 
 ::ie v ;il ^r. Clair's defeat bv the 
 
 r el. that thev- would receive con- 
 
 i vi N'e-niMi. McNeelv watched 
 
 .".' tU .* r ' si^ht, then 'began to iish. 
 
 .a" .''?i\-. hf. had the right flies, and 
 
 - ' '-eiplc. of 
 
 her posy 
 tver- 
 <(']>{ on 
 ss. was >ing- 
 Sed over the 
 . ork ing and 
 nan caravan 
 ; iors. the 
 K the unkempt, 
 \- *'!C t.r.| '.MC passed 
 .id-, and sprang over 
 '.xls t<; th.e fence, 
 nan :" .-he s'lonted 
 r!'i -;ivid( j d l:im. i Ter 
 Vi'-rixi :;, stopped the 
 'r!eou< warrior, who 
 <t the fence and ex- 
 t" M.;Xe.;l\- an hour 
 rei^ ' MHT irujuisitivc 
 \n\\-T, . ,f l.oui.sbonrg.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 185 
 
 the name of which had been lately changed to Harris- 
 burg. "That man is my husband, and I mean to go 
 with him to Washington to see that justice is done." 
 The prisoner opened wide his fine dark eyes, was 
 about to protest, but one look at the beautiful woman 
 made him hold his tongue. He needed just such 
 ?, companion and champion, as he feared that the 
 Indians, if they lost heart of obtaining a favorable 
 opinion from General Washington they had already 
 been to see the President at Philadelphia might mur- 
 der him along the way. 
 
 The girl vaulted over the fence and ran towards 
 the captive. The young man caught her in his arms 
 and covered her swarthy face with kisses. "My long 
 lost wife, my darling," he exclaimed fervently. Then, 
 with the prisoner and the girl in their midst, the 
 squaws picked up their bundles and the caravan re- 
 sumed its march. Harman McNeely was so intent 
 on fishing that he missed his dinner, but to\vards sun- 
 clown came home with a string of several hundred 
 fine trout. The door was open, the spade lay in the 
 garden. There was no fire on the hearth? The mys- 
 terious bride had gone. 
 
 "Well, wasn't I the double-dyed fool this morning 
 to tear that wolf's hide off the wheel. That she-devil 
 only stayed with me because she could not resume her 
 wolf's form while her hide was nailed to the wheel. 
 When I pulled off the hide she was free and she has 
 lit out for parts unknown, but I am glad to be lid of 
 a wolf-wife, pretty as she was." He hung his fish
 
 186 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 pole on the rafters in the kitchen, left the fish in a 
 bucket in the spring house, lit his pipe and walked 
 down the road to his nearest neighbor's, just beyond 
 where the Indian trail crossed the ridge. The neigh- 
 bor's wife, who was on the front steps smoking an 
 Indian pipe, jumped up at his approach. "Oh, Har- 
 man !" she called out, "we saw a big Indian caravan 
 go over the trail this forenoon, and my man would 
 take oath that walking beside a white prisoner was 
 your woman." "Xo doubt it was, bad cess to her," 
 said McXeely, calmly. Then he sat down on the 
 steps beside the good w r oman, and between puffs or 
 his pipe told her all the incidents of his wooing 
 and losing the bride that had come from the Wolf's 
 Glen or from the dell. As the woman heard the nar- 
 rative she felt all the while that he was lying to black- 
 en a woman who had run away from him, but ihe 
 noted every detail of the story in her memory aiv! 
 toid it ic many persons in after years, until it becvr.o 
 ac/ejtcd as a matter of fact in the mountains.
 
 XIV. The Blue Girl 
 
 TWO old traveling men were talking together in 
 one of the back parlors of the Graeffenburg 
 Inn. They were sitting close to the stove, for 
 i< was a very cold night, and seemed loath to ex- 
 change such cozy quarters for the frigid bedrooms 
 upstairs. They had never met before that evening, al- 
 though they had often heard one another's names men- 
 tioned in a business way. Jacob Asbaugh traveled for 
 a whiskey house, Jacob Lobengeir for a cigar manu- 
 facturer. As their talk progressed the old men found 
 that each had been born on the 2 1st of August, 1845, 
 had both served in the Civil War, Asbaugh in the in- 
 fantry, Lobengeir in the cavalry. They belonged to 
 families having some historic significance in the sec- 
 tions of Pennsylvania where they originated, and 
 withal looked enough alike to be twin brothers. They 
 were tall, well set-up men, with white beards and 
 shaven upper lips, faultlessly attired, and could have 
 passed for fashionable clergymen as easily as pur- 
 veyors of two of the chief weaknesses of humanity. 
 They had many mutual friends and had traveled over 
 much the same territory. It was strange that they had 
 never met before. 
 
 As the evening wore on they began telling of trips 
 and unusual experiences that had befallen them dur- 
 ing their many years "on the road." Old Asbaugh 
 was fond of nature and outdoor life, and whenever 
 he could traveled by horse and buggy, combining that 
 
 187
 
 188 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 way, he said, business with pleasure. He could never 
 forget a sleigh ride he had taken one winter morning 
 from Hamburg, in Berks County, across the Blue 
 Mountains to Drehersville, in Schuylkill County. The 
 sleighing was at its best, the sun shone brightly, the 
 air was crisp and cold, the sleigh bells chimed melo- 
 diously. His driver was an old-time liveryman who 
 knew all the bits of local history for miles around. As 
 they toiled up the steep mountain road, after having 
 viewed the marvelous amplitheatre where the majestic 
 mountains make a semi-circle about the quaint old 
 town of Eckville, Asbaugh had looked back and noted 
 a peculiar blue emanation rising from the mountains, 
 an atmospheric phenomenon that had escaped the 
 historians of the Kittochtinnies. Calling the driver's 
 attention, that worthy had stated that the blue vapor 
 could always be seen on bright days, and especially 
 on days which were clear and cold. This Alice blue 
 aura had given the mountains their English name, all 
 die early settlers had noticed it. 
 
 Then he proceeded to tell a legend of the beginnings 
 of the Blue Mountains, away back at the dawn of his- 
 tory. A famous Necromancer, in wandering through 
 the forests, came upon a beautiful girl lying asleep, 
 clad only in a blue gauze veil. He had watched every 
 curve of her body for several hours, struck by her 
 extreme loveliness, and the grace of her recumbent 
 pose, until at last, having to leave, and not wanting to 
 disturb her, changed her into the Blue Mountain, 
 so that her faultless outlines could be before him to
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 189 
 
 the last day of 'his life. The seeming blue vapor was 
 but the veil of the sleeping beauty, and never had 
 Asbaugh seen it so clearly as on that sleighing trip to 
 Drehersville. Lobengeir had become interested by 
 the recital, and when the other old drummer had fin- 
 ished said that he could tell a story of another Blue 
 Girl, closely associated with the Kittochtinny Moun- 
 tains, but at a later period, during the Civil YYar. At 
 the time Lobengeir was a member of the famous fight- 
 ing Seventh Cavalry, and was stationed in the valley 
 beyond Casey's Gap. Confederate raids were expecl- 
 ed through the gap, but as none materialized discip- 
 line was relaxed and the troopers had a very enjoyable 
 time in the rich farming country, unspoiled by the 
 ruthlessness of warfare. Private Lobengeir. as he 
 was then called, had taken to frequenting a picturesque 
 old tavern, just on the ''divide" in Casey's Gap, where 
 on Sunday afternoons good chickjcn dinners were 
 served, and there was always congenial company. 
 The woman who kept the house was said to be a 
 Southern sympathizer, as was her German hired man 
 and hostler. Outwardly they rallied for the North, 
 but they dropped words occasionally that seemed to 
 indicate a different partiality. However. Confederate 
 sympathizers in the Southern Counties of Pennsylva- 
 nia were more numerous than pro-Germans in the 
 World \Yar days, and there were less concerted 
 measures for suppressing them. What appealed most 
 to Private Lobengeir was the landlady's girl of all 
 work, called the Blue Girl, because she alwavs wore a
 
 190 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 blue frock and had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. 
 She was an orphan girl, about eighteen years of age, 
 very willing and cheerful, which caused her to be 
 loaded with an enormous burden of miscellaneous 
 work. When the hostler went away to visit his chil- 
 dren at Emmitsburg the Blue Girl watered the horses 
 of the travelers, and would have attended to the un- 
 saddling and saddling had the guests been so unchival- 
 rous as to have permitted it. 
 
 Lobengeir liked to look at her, waiting on table, or 
 cooking or scrubbing. She was so pretty with her 
 transparent azure eyes, dark curly brown hair and 
 blue gown. Of all the young soldiers who frequented 
 the inn he had gotten to know her best, and learned 
 from her a few facts concerning her life and her 
 point of view. The more he saw of her the more he 
 cared for her and wished for the power and the 
 means to take her away from her miserable surround- 
 ings and make her his wife. He pondered for hours 
 as he rode on his rough-riding, raw-boned horse on 
 practice marches, how he could adjust things so that 
 he might have the Blue Girl with him always. She 
 became the inspiration of his military life, and it 
 would have been a crushing blow if he had been 
 ordered elsewhere. The Blue Girl was destined to 
 become a leading figure in what might have been a 
 sanguinary midnight foray, and as she prevented it, 
 the Congressional Medal in some shape or form should 
 have been hers. But she was merely moving along 
 towards realizing a fortuitous destiny of another kind.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 191 
 
 The Blue Girl was strong in her Union sympathies, 
 and was very suspicious of some characters who 
 fraternized with the landlady, especially as they pre- 
 ferred to come after dark. Most of them held con- 
 ferences with the woman in upstairs rooms and left 
 before daybreak. The Blue Girl felt that she was 
 not a person of enough consequence in the world to 
 interfere, but she disliked the disloyal atmosphere. 
 Sometimes the young cavalrymen joked her about the 
 hotel being a Copperhead's Den, but she said if such 
 was the case, she was Northern true blue. They be- 
 lieved her as instinctively as they doubted the land- 
 lady's loyalty. The Blue Girl often wished that she 
 could repeat her suspicions to Lobengeir, but feared 
 that she would be only laughed at, and that some one 
 ir. authority would say, ''It's no business of hers.'' 
 
 ( , l ne cold night it was much the same kind of 
 night as when the old traveling men were talking by 
 the stove in the cozy back parlor at Graeffenburg Inn, 
 rain that had turned to sleet, and frozen after it fell, 
 and a sharp, penetrating air, that several mysterious 
 individuals appeared at the tavern in Casey's Gap. 
 The hostler had taken them upstairs to the landlady's 
 own room, and had been carrying whiskev from the 
 bar all evening long. The Blue Girl occupied a small 
 room back of the bar. It could only be reached from 
 the bar-room or from the back yard, and she was 
 wakened repeatedly by the hired man coming through 
 the swinging door for more bottles, clinking glasses 
 and the like. "What deviltry are they up to " she
 
 192 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 thought, as she tossed about on her narrow, uncom- 
 fortable bunk. It must have been a couple of hours 
 past midnight when they came downstairs to leave. 
 Evidently some knotty problems remained unsolved, 
 as they stepped out of the hall in to the dark bar- 
 room to finish their arguments. The hostler, who 
 slept in the barn, had gone to fetch their horses, and 
 they felt perfectly secure to talk as they pleased. 
 From her little room back of the bar the Blue Girl 
 could hear every word they said. They were South- 
 ern spies, surely enough, reconnoitering on the chances 
 of a cavalry raid for the next night through the Gap, 
 a raid as swift as an Arab Razzia that would throw 
 the camp of the Seventh Cavalry into such confusion 
 that they could over-run the whole valley by morning. 
 The secret of the plan was that the Northern troops 
 were not guarding the narrow defile of the Gap ; tiiey 
 could get a flying start and over-ride the camp and 
 make a hundred square miles Confederate territory. 
 It would be a long ride, but they were sure of success 
 by catching the Northern forces napping in more re- 
 spects than one. 
 
 Just in the midst of their recapitulations, when 
 their voices were rising to a high pitch of enthusiasm, 
 the landlady, in her wrapper and carrying a candle, 
 burst in among them. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," she 
 whispered, "speak low, or speak not at all. My hired 
 girl is in the room back of the bar, and she must have 
 heard everything. I don't know anything against her, 
 but too many must not know plans such as ours. I
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 193 
 
 supposed that when you left me you were waiting for 
 your horses on the porch, but I heard your voices 
 clear up in my room and came down to investigate 
 and warn you." 
 
 The Southern spies, judging from their faces as 
 reflected in the candlelight, were much chagrined by 
 their careless conduct. The leader, whose wavy black 
 beard hung- to below his waist, called out, ''Bring the 
 girl in here, we will determine what to do with her ; 
 we cannot be sure of anybody these times." 
 
 The Blue Girl from her narrow couch heard this 
 and realized the time for action had arrived. She had 
 never worn a nightgown in her life, but slept in a 
 canton-flannel shirt. Jt was only a moment's work 
 to slip her blue gown, which lay across the foot of the 
 couch, over this and, barefooted and barelegged, to 
 dart out the back door into the icy night. Quickly 
 running around the corner of the house, she dashed 
 down the foacl towards the valley as fast as her 
 shapely legs could carry her. 
 
 The landlady hurried through the door at the end 
 of the bar. and groped in the darkness to the Blue 
 Girl's bunk. ''Rose, Rose." she called, "get right 
 up and come with me." There was no answer. The 
 woman ran her hands over the couch. The girl was 
 gone ! With a scream the woman stumbled back into 
 the light of the bar-room. "The girl is not there ; I 
 fear for the worst," she shrieked at the top of her 
 nasal voice. The conspirators drew their cloaks 
 about them like stage villains, and ran in every direc-
 
 194 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 tion but the right. Finally the woman guided them 
 to the door where, befuddled from too much liquor, 
 they shouted for their horses. Not one had the quick- 
 ness of wit to run towards the valley, to where the 
 Union forces were camped, to where the girl had 
 gone, if she meant harm. Any fairly good runner 
 could have overtaken her. The German handy-man 
 soon appeared with the horses, and was cursed 
 roundly by the spies. As the black-bearded leader at- 
 tempted to vault into the saddle his horse rose up 
 with him, he was thrown on his head on the frozen 
 ground and rendered unconscious. His followers 
 picked him up and placed him on one of the horse' 
 in front of his chief lieutenant, and the ca-iicaJe 
 moved off, not towards the valley, but back in the 
 direction from whence they came to bring tidings 
 of the failure of the scheme and advise that no raid 
 take place. 
 
 The Blue Girl never ceased running until she came 
 in sight of the outposts of the Union Camp. She 
 stopped, and when she got her breath, shouted to the 
 nearest sentry, and was taken charge of and led to 
 headquarters. She was in a sorry plight when she 
 reached the Major commanding. Her matty hair was 
 streaming down her back, her blue gown was not but- 
 toned and was half off, her feet were cut and bleed- 
 ing from running on frozen ground ; her heart beat 
 against her breast, and she was too nervous to Lalk 
 coherently. The young Major stroked his beard and 
 bade her be seated in his easv chair while he inter-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 195 
 
 rogated her. She had brought valuable information ; 
 there could be no doubt of it. The forces must be 
 concentrated so as to guard the defile or be mobile 
 for defense, but he was strategist enough to feel that 
 there would be no raid, the spies would report 
 against it. 
 
 Xext morning the gap was camped full of cavalry- 
 men, and several regiments were posted about the val- 
 ley to swarm up to cut off any ingress should the 
 raiders get by the guardians of the pass. Needless 
 to say, there was no raid. The Major was right. The 
 landlady of the inn and her hostler were placed 
 under military guard. The J>lue Girl was sent to a 
 friendly farm house in the valley under care of Pri- 
 vate Lobengeir, to whom she repeated her earlier mis- 
 givings that she had longed to bring in to headquarters. 
 
 This episode clinched the incipient romance, and the 
 young cavalryman and the I Hue Girl exchanged tokens 
 and were married at the close of the war. "\Ye cele- 
 brated our Golden Wedding last year, in the presence 
 of ten children and fifteen grandchildren," said the 
 old salesman, proudly. ''So you can see that I did 
 not have to change my lUue Girl of the Kittochtinnies 
 into a mountain in order to keep her in sight. It was 
 <> happy day for me that I was stationed in the vicinity 
 of Casey's Gap. Fate lias always something nice in 
 store for the young men who let it come to them and 
 do not grow impatient !"
 
 XV. The Black Cat at Peter Allen's 
 
 IS the Pecan, Fisher or Black Cat (Mustela Cana- 
 dcnis), completely extinct in Pennsylvania? If 
 this question was put to a jury of the most ex- 
 pert woodsmen and trappers of the South Mountains 
 it is safe to assume that the answer would be in the 
 affirmative. Why this shy, inoffensive creature should 
 have been marked for destruction by the insatiable 
 hunting class remains a mystery. True enough its 
 fur was valuable, but even so, it should have been 
 trapped as the Indians did for untold centuries with- 
 in reason, within season, with common sense. 
 
 Unlike the Wolverene or the Pine Marten, the 
 Black Cat enjoyed a habitat including pretty much all 
 of what is known as "Mountainous Pennsylvania." In 
 no region was it more plentiful than in the South 
 Mountains, Conewago and Pigeon Hills, as well as 
 in the chains of mountains which the Susquehanna 
 River bisects above Harrisburg, the Kittochtinny or 
 Blue Mountains (First and Second ranges), Peter's, 
 Berries, Mahantango and Mahanoy Mountains. It ir> 
 stated that the live specimen which Professor Spencer 
 Fullerton Baird sent to J. J. Audubon was one of two 
 Pecans which the great Berks County naturalist cap- 
 tured on Peter's Mountain, not for from Peter Allen's 
 Stone Trading House, early in February, 1844. 
 
 As late as March 11, 1896, a magnificient Black Cat 
 was killed in Lancaster County, on Mill Creek, a 
 stream which rises in the Welsh Mountains. Profes- 
 
 196
 
 *- 
 
 1 
 
 Peter Allen's 
 
 (Photograph by 
 
 Mrs. Christian W. Lynch, 
 
 1919) 
 
 *-
 
 Blaciit Cat at Peter Allen's 
 
 b"'i<'-}f. ' or {.Hack Ca! (Mustela C'ana- 
 ifVtij'l'-teh oxiinct in Pennsylvania? If 
 
 lion v,a i mi to a jury of the most t\- 
 ; Hue trt ,pers of tlv:. 1 South Mountain; 
 smm HIM rhe ar,-\vcr \\-ould be in the 
 
 h->- ii-is i.'v, iii-'iltirnriive -.feature slionld 
 ; -vd fi .losii'!. : vf : ')p. by Hie insatiable 
 
 - v !]-i'.i. :i; a r : i\ -^c-'y True eno'iifh it> 
 . but cvcir -;o. :t sl"'m!d have ie^n 
 
 .W flfiiJchifD .8iM 
 
 
 
 ijoto! 
 
 
 
 i*"'!":!) mucli all 
 unsv]\ f ania." In 
 
 d;v- South 
 
 : 
 
 .. ..._.. .^ 
 !rs;.aiid Sec -ni ranges,, Peter's, 
 .1 ah.! '.! iban r. Mountain?. It is 
 )*. li'.u : wl'.-icl.. I 'rof e--*'r Spirnce 1 ' 
 '.; J Vii'.lr.bi n v. a> -one 'f two 
 a' I'.i:!'l;< Counts naturalist cap- 
 mi' li'i. H"l f n: fnnn T't-ttr Ailcn'- 
 . harl\ i rclin\C'.rv, iSM. 
 li. 'H^'fi. a i'.iaji'tnHcitnt i.Jlack C:it 
 .:I?: ; T Coun;>. on Mill Creek, a 
 io t c ^ - ^-h Mountain*. Profes-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 197 
 
 sor Elliott Coues in his "Fur Bearing Animals of 
 America," published in 1877, states that at that time 
 Black Cats were fairly plentiful in the Mountains of 
 Cumberland and Perry Counties. These Counties 
 contain the Kittochtinny and the Broad Mountains, 
 the Tuscarora Mountains and other chains. 
 
 John H. Chatham, "Poet of Central Pennsylvania, ' 
 saw a Fisher bathing in the mill pond at Farrands- 
 ville, Clinton County, about 1874. A number of years 
 earlier than that John G. Davis, also of Clinton Coun- 
 ty, saw one crossing the Crispin Fields, a clearing on 
 the Bald Eagle Mountain, east of Lock Haven. 
 
 Jacob Quiggle, a venerable raftsman of Clinton 
 County, who died in 1911, recalled that the skins of 
 fishers were sold by Indians at the mouth of Moshan- 
 non Creek, in Centre County, previous to the Civil 
 War period. The old gentleman stated that at no 
 time was the Black Cat as plentiful as the wild cat 
 or the wolf, but in the Colonial days it was to be found 
 frequently enough to warrant hunters devoting their 
 entire time to its chase and capture. Its glossy, horse- 
 chestnut colored fur was very popular at one time 
 for capes, which were worn by Indian princesses and 
 young women of the leading pioneer families. It was 
 a favorite token of backwoods lovers to present these 
 handsome raiments to the objects of their devotion. 
 One story, dating back to colonial days, the aged river- 
 man was particularly fond of relating. It had been 
 told to his grandfather. Ensign Philip Quigley, of 
 Revolutionary fame, by Captain Peter Pentz, of the
 
 198 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Rangers, and gave an insight into colonial life on the 
 frontier, and the excessive popularity of the fur of 
 the IHack Cat among the Indians, the frontiersmen 
 and their ladies. 
 
 The scene of this particular incident was laid at 
 the foot of Peter's Mountain, at Peter Allen's stone 
 house, for half a century or more the favorite stop- 
 ping place and resting place for travelers already 
 weary of their journeys from Conewago. Nazareth, 
 Heidelberg and Louisbourg (Harris' Ferry), who had 
 many more mountains to cross before reaching their 
 ultimate goal at Shamokin, ''The Place of the Horns," 
 now called Sunbury. So many were the travelers 
 that the entire second floor of the long, solidly built 
 structure it was completed about 1T29 was given 
 over to their accommodation. A hempen curtain hung 
 across one end showed where a place was reserved for 
 female guests. Near the ladies' department was the 
 opening of the stair-case from below. Wooden bunks, 
 one above the other, ranged along the sides of the big 
 sleeping room, these being packed with straw. One 
 window in each end furnished light and ventilation. 
 The windows were nailed shut in the winter time, as 
 there was no way in which to heat the vast apart- 
 ment except from the hall of the stairway from the 
 kitchen and living room below. In the centre of the 
 room were piled the tackle and baggage of the sleep- 
 ing travelers. 
 
 When the Rangers or other military bodies came 
 there sometimes as manv as half a hundred men
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 199 
 
 slept in the rows of bunks. Xo pillows or coverlets 
 were provided; the pioneers always carried feather 
 quilts or buffalo robes and put their saddle bags or 
 packs under their heads, if they needed pillows. 
 Travelers of quality, such as officers, land agents, 
 church dignitaries and the like were invariably ac- 
 companied by servants who arranged their bunks 
 with feather "ticks," sheets, blankets, and pillows be- 
 fore their haughty masters retired. Generally the 
 compartment reserved for women was given over to 
 the male travelers of high degree, as they desired the 
 exclusive-ness which it brought to them. 
 
 On a certain afternoon in November, 1?<S1, the 
 st"ne house was honored by a visit from Captain 
 Cecil Goheen. of Philadelphia, sent there by the de 
 fih' to government to settle the scalp bounty with the 
 Rangers. As it happened this was the last payment 
 ever made on Indian scalps in Pennsylvania, so in 
 this respect it was an historic occasion. John Penn. 
 Governor, at the instigation of several of the vir- 
 tuous and churchly leaders of the Proprietary Gov- 
 ernment had instituted this humane policy of 
 ridding the Pennsylvania Mountains of the last re- 
 maining Indians, it was continued through the greater 
 portion of the Revolution, when it was abandoned 
 partly through lack of funds, partly because the 
 hunted became so scarce it hardly paid men to spend 
 their entire time seeking them. In other words, the 
 red men and the red women and red children, too. 
 were trapped for the bounty on their scalps much as
 
 200 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 big, hale, hearty men today who ought to be in the 
 foundries or in the mines, spend weeks and months 
 capturing minks, weasels and wild cats for the few 
 dollars' bounty secured for them by the crafty, dirty 
 politicians, who sponsor the Hunters' License Fund. 
 
 Captain Goheen, on this particular expedition car- 
 ried on his person no less than 5,000 sterling; a pay- 
 master accompanied him to engage in the actual 
 handling of the ''lucre," also a detail of guards and 
 orderlies, for ambush attacks by Indians and white 
 marauders were still likely to occur. The bounty at 
 this time, figured into American currency of present 
 value, amounted to about $134.00 per scalp for a full 
 grown male Indian, $50.00 for the scalps of Indian 
 women and children. Many Rangers had huge "kills" 
 of Indians to their credit. For instance, when on 
 September 13, IT 75, Tim Murphy, of Captain Parr's 
 Company, killed and scalped his twenty-third red- 
 skin, it was a signal for a general celebration. Later, 
 when Indians became scarce, the humane Maclay, for 
 whom the politicians secured an $11,000 momiment, 
 proposed 'that they be hunted down with bloodhounds. 
 
 Captain Goheen was a very handsome young man, 
 splendidly educated in England and France, and heir 
 to a vast fortune and immense landed estates. Like 
 most of his class, he espoused a military career, cut- 
 ting a fine figure in his shako and sword, as shown in 
 Duche's portrait, still in the possession of his descend- 
 ants. Previous to this journey he had never been 
 west of the Conewago Hills, let alone in the No Man's
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 201 
 
 Land beyond Harris' Ferry. It was a wonderful 
 trip for him, through vast and gloomy forests, over 
 steep mountains and rushing streams ; it seemed like 
 going to the end of the world. He had tarried at the 
 military post at Harris' Ferry long enough for word 
 to be sent to Peter Allen's that he was coming with 
 his entourage, consequently all was in readiness when 
 he dismounted from hi^ handsome iron gray stallion. 
 
 The living, room on the ground floor had been set 
 apart for his exclusive use, a roaring fire was in the 
 huge fireplace, a pot of tea steamed on the crane, 
 some chestnuts were roasting in an alcove of the 
 inglenook. 
 
 The young Captain was gratified at this show of 
 respect in the outposts of civilization, so he stood be- 
 fore the flaming logs unbuttoning his military great 
 coat, for the day had been more like January than 
 November, with a biting wind off the river. He re- 
 called the legend that in this same room John Penn 
 was wont to meet Maria Cox, his peasant-born wife, 
 from whom he had been separated by his aristocratic 
 relations, and who followed him to America, only to 
 be again discarded for a new wife of his own class, 
 the daughter of the Chief Justice. Mrs. Barbara 
 Schwartz her husband was a soldier in the Revo- 
 lutionary War who was the chief cook and house- 
 keeper for the young members of the Allen fam- 
 ily, knocked and entered. Rowing low with the 
 respect she had learned as a girl in Alsace, she ex- 
 plained that she had forgotten to take away the skin
 
 202 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 of a I Mack Cat which had been left to dry in the 
 Dutch oven by the fireplace. 
 
 As she opened the small iron door, her hands cov- 
 erd by her apron, the Captain with well-bred curiosity 
 inquired what a Black Cat might be, for he was clever 
 enough to infer that the animal in question was not 
 the regular old-time domestic tabby. 
 
 A Black Cat, explained Mrs. Schwartz, in her best 
 broken English, was a fur-bearing-animal about the 
 size of a fox, which was very, plentiful in the pine 
 forests on the mountain above the stone house ; that 
 its fur was highly regarded by the mountain people, 
 that she wanted to get together enough furs to make 
 a cape for her youngest daughter, Elizabeth, who was 
 soon to marry a prosperous settler, who resided on 
 the Christunn, about forty miles further up the river. 
 
 The woman handed the fur to the officer. Certainly 
 it was very pretty, he thought, as he ran his fingers 
 through the long, smooth hairs, but what would any- 
 body living so far from all creation as forty miles 
 further up the river want with anything so luxurious 
 as a fur cape ! It was an ornament for gentlewomen. 
 
 His curiosity satisfied, Mrs. Schwartz withdrew, 
 leaving the distinguished guest to amuse himself as 
 best he could until the arrival of the Rangers. There 
 were other souvenirs of the wild life of the adjacent 
 mountains in the long, high ceilinged room. He found 
 that he was standing on a rug made from the hide 
 of a panther, though the head was missing. It must 
 have measured nine or ten feet from throat to tip of
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 203 
 
 tail ; it was the first Pennsylvania lion's pelt that he 
 had ever seen and it interested him mightily. There 
 were several magnificent buffalo robes, very dark in 
 color, the hair crisp and curly, thrown across the 
 four-poster bed. The horns of a shovel-horn buck, 
 palmated much as were the fallow bucks in English 
 Parks where he had visited, were nailed above the 
 mantel shelf. As a dust-brush, on a hook by the 
 fireplace, hung several wings of paroquets ; the soot 
 had tarnished the gaudy green plumage somewhat. 
 They had been killed from a flock which, tried to rav- 
 age a corn-shock just back of the house the winter 
 before. 
 
 His sporting instincts pleased by this modest dis- 
 play of hunting trophies, the young man passed an 
 hour until a knock on the door announced his pay- 
 master. Sergeant Andrew ( )'Kane. The paymaster 
 was an Irish youth of good family, but for some 
 reason or other did not hold a commission, his clerical 
 abilities having side-tracked, as it were, his military 
 advancement. Me came to announce the arrival of 
 Lieutenant Michael Grove, of the Rangers, his or- 
 derlv and bodyguard. 
 
 Captain Goheen smiled condescendingly. The idea 
 of a rough frontiersman who scalped Indians for the 
 bounty to travel with the same military aides as him- 
 self, who had learned the art of war from an Aide- 
 de-Camp of Frederick the Great. I>ut Captain 
 Goheen was interested to meet this noted backwoods 
 figure, so he ordered the paymaster to bid him enter.
 
 204 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 O'Kane explained that Lieutenant Grove wished his 
 orderly to come with him, that the orderly kept the 
 accounts and could perhaps explain them better than 
 he was able to do. Captain Goheen nodded that the 
 orderly might be admitted. 
 
 The Paymaster opened the door wide, and Lieu- 
 tenant Grove strode in and saluted. Certainly he was 
 a curious looking person. He was young and not 
 very tall or very straight, his black hair was worn 
 long, it fell over his shoulders, his narrow chin was 
 hidden under a heavy dark beard, his nose was hook- 
 ed, his deep set eyes were very black, giving him the 
 expression of a hawk ; he was noted for the keenness 
 of his sight, and could travel in the dark as well a's by 
 daylight, even when seventy years of age. He was 
 dressed in a suit of buckskin, with gilt buttons of the 
 King George pattern ; several cartridge belts were 
 about his waist, he carried a long knife in a sheath, his 
 legs and feet were encased in leggins and moccasins. 
 
 To Captain Goheen he typified the savage, the 
 primitive man, the Indian, but when he spoke it was 
 with a Dutch accent, for his parents were of Hol- 
 landish stock, the name had been originally Op den 
 Graeff, when the first bearers of the name in Penn- 
 sylvania signed the immortal protest against Negro 
 slavery April IS, 168S. 
 
 Captain Goheen soon saw that the bearded frontiers- 
 man was no ruffian, that he had a fine sense of the 
 proprieties, in other words, knew his position. Then 
 the Captain's eyes drifted to the orderly who stood
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 205 
 
 by the Lieutenant's shoulder. A tall, very slim youth, 
 still in his teens, he seemed to be, with a delicate oval 
 face, aquiline nose that turned up a trifle too much 
 at the end to be truly masculine, eyes very black and 
 very restless, much soft, dark, wavy hair and a com- 
 plexion like old ivory. The orderly, too, was dressed 
 in a buckskin suit, the coat hooked close under the 
 chin, but without the brass buttons ; the long slim 
 legs were encased in buckskin leggings and on- the 
 small feet were red leather moccasins. A strange 
 looking person, thought Captain Goheen, very effemi- 
 nate looking, very youthful, too mild for the rough 
 life of an Indian killer. 
 
 He was further amazed when the orderly, in low, 
 gentle tones, read the long vellum record of Indian 
 butcheries, producing in every instance the horrid 
 scalp from a leather knapsack, to match each recorded 
 designation. It was a terrible, bloodcurdling recital 
 from beginning to end, and the candles were lighted 
 long before the last scalp had been verified, and the 
 payments turned over to Lieutenant Grove by Ser- 
 geant O'Kane. When the business was finished the 
 Lieutenant and the orderly withdrew, leaving the 
 Captain and the Paymaster with a pile of scalps to 
 dispose of as best they could. 
 
 Soon after they had taken their leave Mrs. 
 Schwartz came in to ask the Captain if he was ready 
 to have his supper served in the room. Instantly the 
 young man, as if divining some mystery, asked the 
 woman concerning the identity of Lieutenant Grove's
 
 206 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Orderly. The woman smiled broadly ; then she came 
 close and whispered : 
 
 ''Your honor, that Orderly is Loverhill, the Indian 
 Killer. She is a girl, Genevieve Loverhill. She 
 comes from the Karoondinha, fifty miles up the river. 
 They say she became infatuated with Lieutenant 
 Grove ; her parents could do nothing with her ; she 
 followed him to the forests, and he had to enlist her 
 tr prevent her from killing herself. She is the worst 
 Indian butcher in the Rangers; she is absolutely with- 
 out mercy and without fear. They tell it that she has 
 one hundred notches on her rifle." 
 
 Captain Goheen was amazed. He felt rather queer- 
 ly. but he asked no more questions. He did not eat 
 much supper, even his favorite Madeira did not taste 
 good. He never noticed the piece dc resistance, a 
 roast wild turkey poult, stuffed with acorns and chest- 
 nuts. He felt very restless and ill at ease. Perhaps 
 it was due to the pile of ill-smelling filthy scalps which 
 were still on the panther rug by the table where he 
 sat. At any rate he got up and hurriedly left the 
 room, the best of his carefully prepared supper tin- 
 tasted. 
 
 I Jack in the kitchen Lieutenant Grove and most of 
 his party were seated about the huge fireplace. To 
 add incongruity to the scene there was an enormous 
 Indian he must have been over seven feet tall, with 
 a shaven head, beady eyes and long mustaches 
 seated on a bench .beside Sergeant O'Kane, the two 
 smoking their pipes and conversing together, not an
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 207 
 
 arm's length from the bloodthirstiest band of scalp 
 hunters in all of Penn's Woods. 
 
 Captain Goheen scanned the faces of the Rangers. 
 Loverhill, as they called her, was not among them. 
 When the motley group saw the Captain they all rose 
 and saluted and O'Kane approached him and whis- 
 pered that the Indian, Long John, who lived about 
 thirty miles up the river, had something to show him. 
 It was a cape made from the furs of a dozen especially 
 choice Black Cats ; he wanted a pound for it ; he had 
 it in a sack outside the house; should he send him 
 for it ? 
 
 "No," repiled the Captain, "it is very warm in 
 here. I will go out and see it." 
 
 He was amazed at the height of the Indian, who 
 had to stoop as he went through the door. As they 
 filed out, O'Kane explained that Long John was a 
 friendly Indian whom the Rangers permitted to re- 
 main at his home in return for valuable information 
 obtained from him, that he was hated by the other 
 Indians as much as the Rangers liked him ; that he 
 was seven feet tall. His grave, discernible today close 
 by Herold's school house, across the Susquehanna 
 from the town of Herndon, amply proves this state- 
 ment. \ taller Indian, known a c l>ig John, in an 
 eight foot grave, res'ls in a corner of the old Presby- 
 terian church yard at Jacksonville, Centre County. It 
 surely was an age of giants ! 
 
 Outside the air was crisp and bity cold, in the words 
 of the old French song, ''The Heavens were bright.
 
 208 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 the stars were shining," several dogs began to bark. 
 When Captain Goheen's eyes became accustomed to the 
 starlight, he noticed a figure seated quietly on a bench 
 against the house. Moving a step closer, he could 
 see that it was Loverhill, the Indian Killer. He did 
 not lose time in closing the bargain for the cape with 
 Long John. The Paymaster counted out the money, 
 the big Indian went to a shed where the sheep bells 
 were tinkling, to get some sleep in the hay ; O'Kane 
 discreetly went indoors. 
 
 With the cape on his arm, Captain Goheen ap- 
 proached the girl seated so quietly on the bench with 
 her back against the stone house, smoking a short 
 pipe and looking out at the stars. 
 
 "Good evening," he said, in his courtliest tones. 
 
 The girl got up reluctantly, taking the clay pipe from 
 her mouth and knocking out the ashes against the 
 settee. 
 
 ''Pray do not let me disturb you," said the Captain, 
 motioning her back to the bench. She sat down again 
 without a word. Then he told her that he had heard 
 that she was a girl, a great Indian killer, and of -won- 
 derful assistance to all the Rangers, including Cap- 
 tain Peter Grove, Captain Peter Pentz and Lieuten- 
 ant Michael Grove. The girl still made no reply. 
 Then he handed her the cape made from the furs of 
 the dozen selected Black Cats, the prospective envy of 
 the mountain girls. Rut she refused it, as a man 
 would have done on receiving a gift of feminine 
 apparel.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 209 
 
 "It would be of no use to me," she said, "I always 
 go about as a boy. I have no place for finery, no 
 one I could give it to." But she was not rude or dis- 
 tant. Her manner was so reassuring that Captain 
 Goheen, forgetting military discipline, sat down be- 
 side her. They seemed naturally congenial. Their 
 talk, made easy by a hidden bond of sympathy, be- 
 came very personal as time went on. The young 
 officer, influenced no doubt by the beauty at his side 
 and the weird romance of the place, confessed that a 
 strange thrill had gone through him after he had 
 seen her, that she must abondon her life as a scalp 
 hunter and come to Carlisle or York or Philadelphia, 
 where her beauty and personality would be appre- 
 ciated. 
 
 "For no matter who you are," he said, "you are 
 a lady. Your place is among persons of talent and 
 refinement, and not here, perhaps in the end to be 
 scalped like the savages you have been slaying." 
 
 Genevieve folded her long, thin arms and leaned 
 her head against the wall, looking up at the moon, 
 which had risen above Peter's Mountain and was now 
 shining clear and silvery on the waters of Claik's 
 Creek, in the vale below. 
 
 "T. too, had a strange feeling tonight," she said. 
 "P>ut I had a thrill once before when, as a small girl. 
 I first saw Michael Grove counting scalps at my fath- 
 er's camp on Switzer Run, I said to myself, 'I will fol- 
 low that man to the ends of the earth,' and T did, mak- 
 ing myself an outlaw with my family for him, shedding
 
 210 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Indian blood incessantly to please him, for he has al- 
 ways been so gentle and kind. But tonight," she con- 
 tinued, "I felt another thrill a thousand times as strong 
 and oh. so beautiful, and a clearer voice within me said, 
 'I would follow that man to the ends of the earth.' 
 That is why I came out here to reason it out with the 
 stars, for it was all so very foolish. I have made my 
 place in life; I must follow it as long as there is an 
 Indian left to kill. I could not vow the same regard- 
 ing two men. Here I am Loverhill, of the Rangers ; 
 in Carlise I would be 'Genevieve Loverhill, arch-mur- 
 deress,' a black-hearted fiend for indignant Quakers 
 tc make an example of. I will stay where my destiny 
 has placed me to the end." 
 
 Captain Goheen, overcome with emotion, tried to 
 take her in his arms, but she drew away. 
 
 ''Can I not come into your world in the wilderness? 
 I own vast tracts of land all over these mountains ; 
 we can settle in some remote valley of the South 
 Mountains, where I hear it is so lovely, and make a 1 
 home away from the civilized standards which you 1 
 think would condemn you. I would be happy with you 
 anywhere/' 
 
 Genevieve shook her small head with its masses of 
 soft, wavy dark hair. ' I am sure that I truly love 
 you, but I have told you that early in life I vowed I 
 would go to the ends of the world with Lieutenant 
 Grove. I have done my duty to him ; I will do so to 
 the end, even though tonight, by seeing- you, I feel 
 that I am condemned eternallv as a murderess and a
 
 211 
 
 fiend. If I told you of the Indian women and chil- 
 dren I have killed you would think I was the devil 
 in the form of a girl. You would hate me at the sight 
 of the first Indian widow. It can never he. Yon 
 may kiss me and leave me alone to make my prayer 
 to the stars." 
 
 Captain Goheen put his arms around her and 
 twined her long fingers in his. She leaned against 
 him while he kissed her waxen face and red full lips 
 time and time again. The moon had heen shining 
 through the old yellow pines on the comb of Short 
 Mountain and lighting up the sculptured outlines of 
 *Jhe King's Stool on Magilligan's Rocks, now was 
 going down, having completed the circuit of Orion. 
 A few glimmering rays of starlight shone on the tall 
 silvery trunks of the girdled original white pines on 
 the far side of Clark's Creek. 
 
 When he went indoors only Mrs. Schwartz sat by 
 the inglenook ; all of the others, even Lieutenant 
 Grove, had gone upstairs. The old woman stood up 
 deferentially and curtsied. As he passed her he gal- 
 lantly presented her with the cape made from the 
 furs of the Dlack Cat taken by Long John. 
 
 "Give thai to your daughter Elizabeth for her wed- 
 ding with mv blessing." 
 
 "Oh, thank you .sir, thank you so much, sir. God 
 bless you. sir. It will be my daughter's grandest 
 gift," echoed the woman as he closed the door. Cap- 
 tain Goheen did not take time to light a rushlight ; 
 there was still fire on the hearth, and only partially
 
 212 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 undressing, he threw himself on the bed, among the 
 dark, curly buffalo robes. 
 
 It was broad daylight when he awoke. He was 
 feeling very ill. He had neglected to open the win- 
 dow, that was the reason. As he jumped out of bed 
 his feet rested on something damp and hairy. It was 
 the pile of scalps left there by Lieutenant Michael 
 Grove and his Orderly the evening before. Lifting 
 them up with the flat side of his sabre, as a farmer 
 would a nest of caterpillars, he placed the horrible 
 trophies in the Dutch oven and closed the door. It 
 was proper that into the recesses from which had 
 come the Black Cat's fur the sym'bol of his brief 
 romance with Loverhill, of the Rangers, should go 
 these ghastly reminders of her prowess in the forests. 
 
 Hurriedly dressing, the young officer went to the 
 kitchen. Paymaster O'Kane was there and Mrs. 
 Schwartz, who was stirring a rabbit pudding. Lieu- 
 tenant Grove and his crew, Long John and Loverhill, 
 the Indian killer, had departed before daybreak, he 
 was told. It was all like some fantastic dream.
 
 XVI. The Squaw Man 
 
 PETER ALLEX, Colonial inn keeper and historic 
 character, was uncle to one Francis Allen, 
 who moved from the Macha Hills, now called 
 Pigeon Hills, to the mouth of Buffalo Creek, about 
 1T7-"). He was an industrious, capable young man, 
 who hid fair to prosper in his new home on the 
 frontier. He was married to a wife from the Little 
 Conewago, as industrious as himself, and they had 
 three small children. Indian affairs were very un- 
 settled at the beginning of 1T80; many massacres, 
 more or less exaggerated, were reported from distant 
 points, but they struck near home when on the 
 eighteenth of May, "French Jacob" Groshong's mill, 
 near the head of Buffalo Creek, was raided by the 
 redmen and four of its white defenders slain. 
 
 Disasters such as this seldom come singly, for on 
 the fourteenth of July the peaceable home of the 
 Allen family at the mouth of the Creek was invaded, 
 the husband and father was cruelly shot down in 
 his corn field, the mother and one boy escaped, one 
 other son, Peter, named for his illustrious uncle, was 
 captured, while the baby was snatched from its cradle, 
 swung around by the feet of one of the angry red- 
 skins and brained on the doorstep. 
 
 Peter, the captive, was six years old at the time 
 of the tragedy. He was hurried off into the forest 
 by the Indians and nothing was heard of him for 
 more than twenty years. The unfortunate mother 
 
 213
 
 214 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 and her remaining child, who was four years old, re- 
 turned to her girlhood home near Carlisle, where she 
 never ceased grieving over the loss of her husband, 
 son and girl baby. The escape of the four-year-old 
 boy was little short of miraculous. When he saw 
 the Indians coming he ran towards the bank of the 
 creek, ducking among some tall reeds, where he lay 
 until the danger was past. When his mother, accom- 
 panied by a posse of neighbors, returned to recover 
 the bodies, the tiny child crawled up the bank and 
 ran to them safe and sound. The mother's escape 
 was fortuitous. She was sitting on a stump fence 
 knitting under the shade of a big oak, while her 
 husband worked the corn, the season was a late one, 
 when she saw the redmen approaching. Before they 
 saw her she was over the fence and running for "dear 
 life" to secure help. She knew that her husband, 
 who worked with his heavy rifle slung across his 
 shoulder, would start for the house to protect the 
 little ones. When she came back with the band of 
 indignant settlers, all was over so far as her happi- 
 ness was concerned. Her husband lay scalped where 
 he had fallen, trying to rescue the baby from her tor- 
 turers, the oldest boy was gone, there was no one to 
 tell her where, for the little fellow who was left had 
 bin flat among the rushes too frightened to notice 
 anything; he could recall only the rattle of the 
 musketry and the fiendish scalp ''halloo." The 
 stricken mother was on the verge of insanity for a 
 long time.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 215 
 
 The strong men who had accompanied her to the 
 scene of the attack were moved to tears by her 
 affliction. I'nt when she gradually came back to 
 normal condition, she was very thankful to have the 
 little boy, Francis, Jr., although he resembled hei, 
 being light-haired and blue-eyed, more than his dark- 
 haired and Indian-featured father. Little Peter, the 
 missing child, was the living image of his father. He 
 not only looked like him, but acted like him ; he was 
 a veritable reproduction in miniature. Though the 
 mother could never get over her gratitude that one 
 child had been spared to her, she often wished openly 
 that the little one had been Peter, so that in him she 
 could gaze into the likeness of her martyred husband, 
 whom she loved so well. 
 
 She remained true to his memory, never marrying 
 again, though she had several offers that were con- 
 sidered excellent for the frontier. Her mind was 
 focused on the past and the beloved dead and the 
 cherished hope of some day recovering her long-lost 
 and favorite offspring, Little Peter. After a time 
 her husband's brother. Patrick Allen, moved to the 
 homestead at the mouth of Ikiffalo Creek, ultimately 
 persuading the young widow to return there to act 
 as housekeeper. He was a widower with hve small 
 children, and this new responsibility did much to 
 divert the unfortunate woman from thinking too 
 much of her sorrows. 
 
 The day of Indian atrocities was passing, a more 
 tolerant attitude between the two races existed, and
 
 216 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 old feuds were so thoroughly forgotten that often 
 Indians like Capain Logan, Long John, Job Chillavvay 
 and John Goodaway were entertained over night by 
 Patrick Allen and his household, and it was thought 
 to be nothing remarkable. 
 
 Young Francis Allen was fond of hunting from 
 his earliest youth. He was a crack shot; when he 
 was ten he was able to hit innumerable "dippers" in 
 the river during the Spring floods, and many a loon 
 fell before his well-judged aim. He was a trapper 
 as well and once caught a big wild cat on his "line," 
 which extended across the wooded hill to the north 
 of his abode. As he grew older he carried his shoot- 
 ing operations to Jack's Mountains, killing numerous 
 deer, and so marked became his success that he went 
 every Fall to the Alleghenies or the North Mountains 
 in quest of elk. These splendid animals, which were 
 found in the hills about Sunbury in the days of 
 Shikellemus, were gradually being found further in 
 the wilderness as a result of the persecutions of the 
 white hunters. 
 
 It was during the fall of 1800, more than twenty 
 years after the sanguinary tragedy in the Allen family, 
 that a party consisting of Patrick Allen, his son, Fred- 
 erick, and his nephew, Francis Allen, with an 
 old Indian named Dagonondo as cook, wended their 
 way to the Elklands, as the extreme hinterland of 
 the North Mountain was called. A camp was estab- 
 lished on Elk Creek, which must not be confused with 
 Elk Run .also in what is now Sullivan County, and a
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 217 
 
 systematic drive through portions of the wilderness 
 seldom visited by the white hunters commenced. 
 
 Rumors of elk on the northern slope of the main 
 chain of Allegheny Mountains led them to remove 
 the base of operations to the vicinity of Elk Lake. 
 Dagonondo, while out reconnoitering, he was of an 
 inquisitive disposition, happened into an encampment 
 of redmen, on the north shore of the lake. He was 
 well received by his fellow Indians and asked to invite 
 his white principals to partake of an elk barbecue 
 the next evening, for luck was all with the Indian 
 marksmen on that occasion. As the Allen party had 
 not seen a trace of an elk, they were glad to accept 
 the courteous invitation. 
 
 The Indians came for them in birch-bark canoes 
 which swiftly carried them across the rippling water? 
 of the beautiful mountain lake along which grew the 
 dense virgin forests of hemlock and hardwoods. It 
 was about four o'clock in the afternoon when the 
 members of the Allen family arrived at the scene of 
 the barbecue. The mellow golden light brought oui 
 the rich tints of the woodlands and cast sombre 
 shadows on the placid waters. In single file the 
 Indians were arriving at the camp ground. It seemed 
 as if every redman at large in Northern Pennsylvania 
 was to partake of the feast. As it was they outnum- 
 bered the white guests twenty to one, and if evilly 
 disposed could have made short work of the pal? 
 faces in their midst. 
 
 But one and all were cordiality itself, vicing with
 
 218 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 one another to make the guests of honor feel com- 
 pletely at home. The carcasses of two elks had been 
 roasting over a slow fire since morning, the steam 
 being retained by a thick covering of hemlock boughs, 
 though enough of the savory odors exuded to whet 
 the appetites of Indians and white men alike. 
 Among the Indians Patrick Allen noticed a tall youth 
 who bore a striking resemblance to his murdered 
 brother, Francis. 
 
 The young hunter was of swarthy complexion, but 
 lacked the coppery hue so characteristic of the full- 
 blooded "sons of the forest." His hair was black and 
 was worn very long, and from his ears were sus- 
 pended rings of coral-colored beads. On close exam- 
 ination it could be noticed that his deepset eyes were 
 blue, though they shone dark beneath the heavy black 
 brows and lashes. The young man wore a buckskin 
 suit and cap and carried a long rifle. He kept his 
 eyes on the white men, but made no attempt to enter 
 into a conversation. The thought flashed through 
 Patrick Allen's mind that the young "Indian" could 
 be no other than his nephew, Peter Allen, kidnapped 
 by the marauding redmen at the mouth of Buffalo 
 Creek twenty years before. He sidled up to the 
 youth and began questioning him. At first the young 
 hunter was monosyllabic in his answers, but grad- 
 ually, by giving him a "pull" or two out of his flask 
 of spirits and by dilating on the loneliness and long- 
 ings of the bereaved mother, he admitted his identity 
 But he quickly added that he was entirely satisfied
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 219 
 
 with his treatment by the Indians, he had no desire to 
 leave them. 
 
 After he had been carried away as a boy of six 
 years, he had followed the declining fortunes of the 
 band until, after a series of defeats, they had capitu- 
 lated and accepted a domicile on die reservations in 
 Cattaraugus County, New York. From there thy 
 made hunting trips into Pennsylvaiia every Spring and 
 Fall, following up the remaining elk herds wherever 
 they knew them to be. He had been adopted by an 
 Indian family and, when in a fight with some white 
 hunters six years previously, his foster brother had 
 been slain, he inherited the chiefship and married the 
 chief's young widow. She had one child by her first 
 husband, and since then three more children had 
 been born. They were all now on the reservation. 
 
 Patrick Allen stuck close to his newly-found 
 nephew during the barbecue and before it was over 
 secured from him the promise to take him and his 
 new-found brother Francis, to visit the squaw and 
 her little ones at the reservation on the Ohe-yu. To 
 make sure that the wily self-constituted Indian 
 would not give them the slip during the night, the 
 Aliens bivouaced with him. In the morning Patrick 
 Allen's son was sent homeward to give the glad tid- 
 ings to the patient mother that her son had been 
 found. In the morning Peter Allen, or Peter 
 "Strong." as the Indians called him his foster father 
 was the noted chieftain. Captain Strong was in a 
 glum and sullen mood. The liquor had worn off and
 
 220 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 with it the sentimentality about the reunion with his 
 mother. He was clearly opposed to leaving his Indian 
 hunting colleagues in the middle of the big elk hunt 
 and returning to the reservation. But Patrick Allen 
 and young Francis were forceful characters, and lit- 
 erally compelled him to live up to the agreement 
 which he had entered into the night previously. 
 
 If he had not been a sub-chief and of high ran*. 
 among the tribe, his declaration that he was 
 
 home would have been received in even worse grace 
 than it was. As it was, there was much grunting and 
 groaning when he announced his intention. Clearly 
 he was one of the best shots in the party and his ab- 
 sence would hamper the success of the expedition 
 At length all was explained and arranged and the 
 Aliens and their unwilling relative started on the long 
 journey to the reservation. They were nearly a week 
 getting there. With each successive day "Peter 
 Strong" became more despondent and uncommunica- 
 tive. It was not that he disliked the idea of seeing 
 his mother, of whom he was fond and whom he had 
 not forgotten, but he did not want to leave his wife 
 and little children. 
 
 When the reservation was reached the white men 
 could see the reasons for Peter's attachment. The 
 Indian wife, who went by the extremely odd name 
 of Cherry Wisdom, was most attractive to behold 
 and the children were bright and cunning. She was 
 a young woman, not over twenty-five, with a com- 
 plexion sallow rather than copper-colored. Her figure
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 221 
 
 was slim, and she was above the medium height. Full 
 face, she was decidedly pretty, there was a softness 
 to the mold of her features, and her large black eyes 
 with eyeballs blue-white, and long lashes and smooth 
 black hair, which she wore parted on one side, all 
 lent a charm to her looks that was indescribable. But 
 side face she was not so pretty, the aquiline nose 
 curved too low over the lips, there was too decided 
 a set to the jaw, too much flatness to her figure to 
 make her attractive to gaze upon in analytic mood. 
 But her pleasant manner more than offset any pos- 
 sible physical defects. 
 
 For several days Peter Strong could not muster 
 up courage enough to break the news to his prett\ 
 squaw of his impending visit to his white relations. 
 At length he did so, but it almost broke the young 
 woman's heart. 
 
 "I will never see you again, never again, never 
 again," she moaned over and over, as she crouched 
 disconsolate on a buffalo hide in her cabin. 
 
 Peter strove to reassure her, bringing his uncle 
 and brother as witnesses to prove that he would be 
 back in four moons. Peter lived in a tiny cabin across 
 the path from where Tod-Kah-Dohs, notorious as 
 the alleged slayer of his uncle, James Logan, resided 
 with his aged father. Captain Logan, then over eighty 
 years of age. Tod-Kah-Doh's wife was the aunt of 
 Peter's wife, so she took the case before The Search- 
 er, as Tod-Kah-Dohs was generally called. He op- 
 posed Peter's going violently, saying that it was a
 
 222 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 trick, but that night the Aliens plied him with liquor, 
 and before he was able to be out the next morning 
 ''Peter Strong" was being hurried southward by his 
 relatives. Cherry Wisdom and the children fol- 
 lowed him for several miles along the forest path, 
 weeping and wailing; the young squaw was discon- 
 solate ; evidently she had a premonition that she would 
 never see her beloved husband again . At every step 
 Peter kept telling her that he would return, but she 
 refused to be convinced. Her last words were, "You 
 will never return while you live." 
 
 After the final parting the poor fellow, torn be- 
 tween conflicting duties, remained speechless, moving 
 along in mechanical fashion, until he came to the 
 river opposite his mother's !\ome. Patrick had sent 
 word with his son that when they reached the bank 
 that he would wave a red shirt. The aged mother 
 was watching from the window and rushed out joy- 
 ously, expectant. She sprang into the dugout with 
 several of her nephews and accompanied the long- 
 lost Peter back across the river. Needless to say, her 
 greeting with the rediscovered son was most affect- 
 ing. Even the stoical youth showed signs of emotion 
 and was proud when told of his exact resemblance to 
 his lamented father. 
 
 P>ut even on the night of his arrival he talked 
 about returning in four moons to his Indian family. 
 Patrick could see that this pained the doting mother 
 and determined to thwart any intention of his nephew 
 to be reunited with Cherry Wisdom and the half-breed
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 223 
 
 children. He was kept steadily occupied and watched 
 day and night. Once when the subject of his remaining 
 was discussed, he flew iiKo a rage and aimed his bow, 
 letting go an arrow at his uncle, narrowly grazing 
 his forehead. When the four moons were up his 
 mother plead with him so hard that he weakened and 
 promised to remain almost until Spring. 
 
 When in February, Captain Harry Green and 
 party, whom his mother had known at New Buffalo, 
 were murdered by New York State Indians in the 
 wild glen since known as Green's Gap, in Clinton 
 County, "Peter Strong" expressed the opinion that 
 the Indians were on his trail for not keeping his 
 promise to return and had killed the Green party 
 that the crime was committed after dark and by 
 mistake. After that he showed less desire to return 
 to the reservation, believing that the bloodthirsty Tod- 
 Kah-Dohs would have him murdered for not keeping 
 his promise to be back in four moons. 
 
 He gradually took a greater interest in his mother 
 and the home and was most assiduous in doing gar- 
 den work as well as in helping to clear new ground in 
 the Spring. Hut had he known the duplicity visited 
 on him he would have undoubtedly bolted for the 
 wilderness. During the month of March, when the 
 rains pelted down unceasingly, and the roads were 
 <'. sea of mud and all Nature looked dismal and inhos- 
 pitable, a young Indian woman made her appearance 
 on Buffalo Creek near its source in the mountains. 
 She was slender and comely, but her large dark eyes
 
 224 
 
 flashed like one possessed. From every person she 
 met, and at every cabin where she stopped, she asked 
 the whereabouts of her husband, Peter Strong. 
 She was laboring under great excitement, as she 
 would not eat, and could not sleep. At George Wilt's 
 home, near the entrance to the Penn's Valley Nar- 
 rows, afterwards the Stitzer Tavern, where she spent 
 a night, she sang and danced in the kitchen until 
 morning. Of course, her dancing was due to hysteria, 
 not hilarity. She departed without breakfast shortly 
 before the family appeared for morning prayers. 
 The name of Peter Strong was unknown in the upper 
 part of the valley, but in one house where she stopped 
 over night the story of Peter Allen, or Peter Strong, 
 the Squaw Man, was known. 
 
 As she sat around the fire with the family, one of 
 the neighbors who was present quietly slipped away 
 to the barn and quickly saddled his horse, riding 
 all night through the darkness and mud to the mouth 
 of Buffalo Creek, where he had a daybreak conference 
 with Patrick Allen. It is certain that Patrick was 
 opposed to strenuous measures, and severely caution- 
 ed the hot-headed youth before he departed. But 
 after that no more was seen or heard of the unhappy 
 Cherry Wisdom. Whether she was thrown into the 
 creek and drowned, or died along the road from expo- 
 sure, or wandered back into the mountains, no one will 
 tell. Her children, grown up and married when Tod- 
 Kah-Dohs died in 1840, averred that they never re-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 225 
 
 membered any mother after she took her departure 
 for Pennsylvania. 
 
 About the time of the visit of the heartsick squaw 
 to Buffalo Valley "Peter Strong' contracted a second 
 marrige, strangely enough to a sister of the youth 
 who had apprised Patrick Allen of the Indian wife's 
 presence in the valley. Four children were born and 
 he seemed tolerably happy in the new life. To please 
 the white wife, who probably cherished jealous senti- 
 ments towards her predecessor, he cut his hair short, 
 grew a beard and threw his gaudy earrings into the 
 river. Hut his habits and manners were ever those 
 of an Indian. He refused to discard his bow and 
 arrow, using it on small birds and wild ducks; he 
 was also a keen rifle shot to the last. It was his 
 pride that his senses were so acute that he could not be 
 approached by anyone. It was his dare to everyone 
 in the neighborhood to creep up on him unawares. 
 ( hily once did anyone get up to him without being 
 first observed. 
 
 There was a cornfield on a side hill, and on the 
 back of the ridge many a "smart Aleck" clambered 
 in the hopes of surprising Peter at his work. But he 
 so resented the one time he was caught off his guard 
 that the victor was robbed of much of his pleasure. 
 
 As he grew older he loved to talk about his days 
 with the Indians, never expressing disapprobation of 
 the murder of his father, but always extolling the red- 
 men's character and mode of living. He made many 
 bows and arrows for the small boys of the neighbor-
 
 226 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 hood and delighted in teaching them how to use the 
 primitive weapons correctly. As fall approached he 
 always planned an elk hunt to the North, but some- 
 how they never came to pass. 
 
 It was in the Autumn in the Indian Summer time, 
 when the sky is the color of the blue-wood asters, and 
 the yellow hue of the hickory leaves is the most 
 noticeable shade of valley and hill, when the streams 
 run shallow, when the odor of grapes and nuts and 
 dried leaves permeates the soft air, and there is a 
 sweet subtle melancholy pervading all nature, "Peter 
 Strong" was invariably filled with a deep longing for 
 the lands of beech and maple to the North. Often 
 the old man sat for hours at a time on a log by the 
 river bank, straining his eyes to see the bold promon- 
 tory of the North Mountain shape itself out of the 
 ?moky landscape. \Yhat thoughts passed through his 
 biain, these his wife and children, unimaginative hard- 
 working souls, never suspected and could not under- 
 stand if they did. Whether- he had acted justly to 
 give up the savage race that murdered his father and 
 little sister, and return to his aged mother and make 
 her last days gladsome, even though a loving Indian 
 wife and children were left to languish, was ever 
 uppermost in his thoughts, his conscience would give 
 him no peace. He never settled the matter in his 
 mind. There was always an open sore in his soul. 
 
 One September night he was awakened by some 
 one faintly calling his name, "Peter, Peter, Peter." 
 He slept on a bunk by the kitchen wall, being too
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 227 
 
 feeble to climb the stairs. It was an easy matter to 
 find his staff and push his way out into the clear cool 
 night. Jt was not the voice of the katy-dids, but 
 seemed to come from the river bank, but when he 
 reached it, it seemed to be out on the river, or on the 
 opposite bank, calling "Peter, Peter, Peter." 
 
 His son's dugout was chained directly in the eddy, 
 so he stumbled down the steep slope to where it was 
 moored. The voice was strangely familiar, it was 
 the voice of Cherry Wisdom, the black-eyed and lov- 
 ing wife of his youth, the mother of his little dark 
 children. He would go to her and spend his last days 
 with her, no matter what his other family thought ; 
 they were nothing to him. He forgot his ninety years, 
 he was a bold young hunter again. He broke the lock 
 on the dugout with a stone, pushed off and was soon 
 1 'addling in midstream. He was floating to the shore 
 of the spirit where the inequalities and errors and 
 pains of life are mended forever. . . . The next 
 morning the dugout was found knocking against one 
 of the piers of the covered bridge at Derrstown, but 
 the body of Peter Strong, the squaw man, was never 
 discovered. Elijah had discarded his chariot.
 
 XVII. Woodpecker's Head 
 
 MANY have been the important historical hap- 
 penings in and out of the stockade of old Fort 
 Littleton, on the ' Forbes Road in Fulton 
 County, and coupled and interwoven with these 
 have been numerous by-plays and events of 
 human interest which just missed the historian's 
 province. This particular story has its origin 
 in the Blue Mountains, between Dauphin and 
 Schuylkill Counties, where, at the Cold Spring, a com- 
 pany of Cherokee mercenaries, with their women and 
 children, were camped pending an attack on some 
 hostile Indians of the neighborhood. The bringing of 
 the Cherokees into Pennsylvania infuriated the na- 
 tive tribes as much as the use of the Hessians during 
 the Revolutionary War, or the hint of Japanese aid in 
 the World War. The Cherokees were a fine, stalwart 
 race, many of them very light colored, and the women 
 surpassingly beautiful. 
 
 Camped near to these Indian renegades at another 
 big spring were some white soldiers, who fraternized 
 with their copper-colored allies \vhile waiting for 
 orders to arrve from Carlisle. It was the farthest 
 north that these southern redmen had penetrated, but 
 wherever they went they left a record for their bar- 
 barities and needless acts of violence. They were 
 the Huns of the French and Indian War. Among the 
 Indian women there were several young girls who 
 were much admired by the white non-commissioned 
 
 228
 
 Old Furnace Dam 
 at 
 
 I Caledonia 
 
 [
 
 XVII. Woodpecker's Head 
 
 A\\ have been the important historical hap- 
 penings ?n and out of the stockade of old Fort 
 Littleton on the Forbes Road in Fulton 
 >. and coupled and interwoven with these 
 been numerous by-plays and events of 
 ! which just missed the historian's 
 p.ovince. particular story has its origin 
 
 n; the i'.liu' Mountain-, between Dauphin and 
 
 M 
 
 Counfv 
 have 
 
 human 
 
 ylL 
 
 Y -if 
 
 I - -n ^ -L Uj 
 
 ierc ^IL iht- Cold. 
 
 Spring, a com- 
 eir women and 
 
 Che; \tkee merce" 
 
 .Irer 
 tile 
 
 OU<! *M 
 
 ndia:is ,)f the . 
 
 j 
 
 mul BIO 
 
 neighborhood. 
 
 "in 
 
 ttack on some 
 'he bringing of 
 natcd the na- 
 
 tril: 
 
 e.- .1-. much as 
 
 the u-v of the 1 
 
 ie.-sians during 
 
 Rev 
 
 MOOI 
 
 3si3 
 
 |?.j)anese aid in 
 
 \Yo 
 
 M \>':ir. The 
 
 Cherokees were 
 
 a line, stalwart 
 and the women 
 
 
 'v Ti^li :"f'!' n'rd ,"" 
 
 Camped iit^r tv< these Indian renegades at another 
 ii^ spring v. c r i: sonu: white soldiers, who fraternized 
 . ;!:i their ccpper-coon/d u!li< s while waiting for 
 in arrvc from Carlisle It w; t .s the farthest 
 ';,it these M)Uihern re'!;;-'-!- h:id penetrated, but 
 they went they leff . re. 'inl for their bar- 
 :;'id needless acts of violence. They were 
 - if '.lie French ;i;ni hiuian \\'ar. Among the 
 'ii'iHMi theri- \\ere M \ <. ral voting girls who 
 i v ,id?n;red by the \vhite non-commissioned 
 i)ft$
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 229 
 
 officers. They would have been quickly told off for 
 commissioned officers if any of these gentry had been 
 present, but as there were none the "non-coms" rev- 
 elled in the pasture. Chief of these comely girls was 
 one called Woodpecker's Head, because she always 
 wore a cap or headdress made from the wings and 
 feathers of die cardinal bird, whose blithe early morn- 
 ing song of "cheer, cheer, cheer," brightened many a 
 dawn in the southland home of the Cherokees. There 
 was a mountain back of where the mixed party of 
 Indians and whites were camped, which is now called 
 "Woodpecker's Head" but none can tell if it gave its 
 name to the red-capped maiden, or her scarlet head- 
 dress suggested the name for the mountain. Wood- 
 pecker's Head, the girl, was a very vigorous and 
 sprightly specimen of her race, if real Indian she 
 was, as her pale cheeks, with a bright red flush in 
 them, and bobbed brown hair, seemed indicative of an 
 infusion of the blood of a fairer stock. She was ob- 
 viously "Woodpecker's Head" from her headdress, 
 but some of the other white soldiers called her "Short 
 Dress," because she wore a deerskin skirt which came 
 barely to her knees. She was as powerful and agile 
 as a boy, a great runner and swimmer and a first-class 
 rifle shot. 
 
 As there were no white girls for miles around, and 
 if there were it would have been hard to find the equal 
 of "Woodpecker's Head," this Indian maid had her 
 pick of the white riflemen. She selected a very good- 
 looking youth, a sergeant named Adam Berkenhaut.
 
 230 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 There was no doubt but the young soldier was smitten 
 with the girl, and felt considerable pride that he had 
 been singled out by her, when his entire detachment 
 were pining for a smile. He seemed to make no con- 
 cealment of his infatuation, and the girl, with her lim- 
 ited knowledge of white men's ways, believed him not 
 only in love, but sincere. There was considerable 
 doubt as to that, as there was a tall, thin private named 
 McManahoy to whom he confided that he was only 
 playing with the girl, that he would just as soon marry 
 a Negro girl as an Indian, but that did not prevent en- 
 joying himself with the Cherokee maid in a way that 
 no black girl could have substituted. 
 
 When the elegant Captain Dagworthy appeared on 
 the scene to take command, he found a demoralized 
 state of affairs, the Indian men drinking rum and 
 their girls going about with the white soldiers. Under 
 his shako he cast an admiring glance at Woodpecker's 
 Head, probably secretly envying his lucky sergeant, 
 but he wisely moved his camp five miles further north 
 from the Cold Spring and forbade all social inter- 
 course with the Indians. 
 
 It was among the sources of the Swatara that Ser- 
 geant Berkenhaut met and was loved by a winsome 
 Dutch girl, and condescended to marry her. He tried 
 to obtain a discharge after this marriage ; he wanted 
 to quit soldiering and clear a farm, and be a hunter ; 
 but Captain Dagworthy saw no grounds to recommend 
 such action, and intimated that his wife might follow 
 him and share the fortunes of war. The sergeant sub-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 231 
 
 mitted reluctantly, and ever afterwards hated his cap- 
 tain. He did not care to leave his wife behind, though 
 he said to himself that there were many others just as 
 attractive. \Yhat he wanted most of all was to be 
 free of discipline and start a home. He felt this thrill 
 of the soil especially in the spring of the year, from 
 the time when the warm sun first unclosed the pussy 
 willows, on into summer, when his dream of freedom 
 in a measure subsided. A year after his marriage, 
 and nearly two years after his romance with \Yood- 
 pecker's Head, Sergeant Uerkenhaut became a part of 
 the garrison of historic Fort Littleton. It stood on a 
 hill, with an amphitheatre of mountain peaks which 
 hid the cove beyond. Log houses were built within 
 the great stockade, which historians state "was almost 
 cannon proof," and the non-commissioned officers and 
 their families had an exceedingly good taste of "home 
 life." Sergeant Berkenhaut had his \vife with him, 
 and their first baby, but it was noted that he was not 
 a good husband or father, as he played cards and 
 gambled in every possible way when oft" duty, and 
 only returned to his cabin in the early hours of the 
 morning, and he would drink when he could get the 
 stuff. He was a small, slimly made man, with restless 
 brown eyes, curly hair, and thick lips, yet he seemed 
 to be a lady's favorite, and he knew it. 
 
 The Cherokees were still in service, and from time 
 to time came to the fort with scalps, on which they 
 claimed rewards. There was no regular bounty sys- 
 tem, as John Perm had not as yet instituted the in-
 
 232 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 famous scalp law of July, 1764, nor Maclay's propo- 
 sition to hunt Indians with bloodhounds electrified the 
 man-slayers ; yet in order to encourage the mercen- 
 aries a cash reward was paid for every scalp brought 
 in. These were supposed to be Indian scalps, but 
 when one of the Cherokees attempted to squeeze 
 through on the pile a long, brown, curly wig of 
 European design, an imposition was suspected, and 
 Captain Dagworthy ordered all scalps split in two 
 before the bounty money was paid over. 
 
 Among the Cherokees to visit the stockade was 
 Wolf, a tall, slim youth, who deeply loved Wood- 
 pecker's Head", or "Short Dress." He had been ig- 
 nored for the little, curly-haired sergeant, and felt the 
 slight keenly. He did not see Berkenhaut with his 
 wife and child, but saw the sergeant, and in asking 
 about him from one of his corporals learned that he 
 was married and a father. This fired the chivalrous 
 Cherokee, for Woodpecker's Head had never been the 
 same since her parting from the sergeant ; her buoy- 
 ancy of spirits vanished, she ran no more races, nor 
 jumped and practiced with the bow ; the bright red 
 spots left her cheeks, and she sat about the camp like 
 one in a decline. Yet she would notice no Indian ad- 
 mirers, and this seemed to indicate that she was eating 
 her heart out for the white man's return. 
 
 The slighted Cherokee lost no time in traveling the 
 sixteen miles to his camp just over the Maryland line, 
 and telling several maidens whom he knew were close 
 to "Short Dress'' of the faithlessness of the low-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 233 
 
 blooded "Wunnux," or white man, who had wooed 
 her. The news came to Woodpecker's Head like a 
 poisoned arrow through the heart. The pang on re- 
 ceiving the first intimation of a loved one's instability 
 is the most poignant of all the pains that last through 
 life. The Indian girl writhed in soul torture, but, like 
 her race, she made no outward show ; tears, screams 
 and hysterics were for the white women, the kind 
 whom Sergeant Adam Berkenhaut preferred. She 
 would do what white women under similar circum- 
 stances would like to do, but had not the courage- 
 she would be avenged for her humiliation. To do this 
 she professed to be again interested in the chase and 
 archery. She shot many gaudy-plumaged birds out of 
 the trees cardinals, tanagers, paroquets and che- 
 winks. She strayed farther into the forest for larger 
 game. Wolf had told her that Berkenhaut was still 
 sergeant of the guard, and she contrived to have him 
 go back again to find out just what nights he turned 
 out and the hour, the simple redman never suspecting 
 the reason. To make sure, Short Dress reconnoitered 
 for herself on moonlight nights, and could see the 
 little sergeant emerge from the guard room. She 
 could have shot him easily from her perch with a rifle, 
 but she knew that she would be caught before she 
 could scramble down from her position. She was 
 determined to be revenged, and in her code this meant 
 that Berkenhaut must die by her hand. 
 
 The trees had been cleared away from the lowlands 
 for nearly a quarter of a mile on every side of the
 
 234 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 hill on which the stockade and fort stood, and the 
 uneven ground was covered with blackened logs, stabs 
 and stumps, for the clearing had been fired "to clean 
 it up" after the timber was felled. There was no 
 stab tall or secure enough to get into to shoot across 
 the stockade with the proper trajectory, but she could 
 easily crawl along on hands and knees beside the logs ; 
 she must shoot him from the top of the stockade. Her 
 bow and arrow were the surest and quietest weapons. 
 She could quickly "skin up" the stockade wall, wing 
 her man, be down and fly like a deer to the cover of 
 the midnight woods before an alarm was sounded and 
 the great log gates swung open to her pursuers. No 
 one could outrun her in the timber, and she knew 
 every path. The sergeant must die before the moon 
 went out, and by her spying she selected the proper 
 hour. 
 
 On the appointed night, with bow and quiver slung 
 over her shoulder like a very voluptuous Diana, she 
 scampered to the edge of the forest, and looked out on 
 the sombre walls of the fort, phosphorescent in the 
 waning moonlight. There was a line of huge, black- 
 ened, recumbent logs, accidentally thrown, but form- 
 ing a path across the clearing almost to the stockade. 
 In the lea of these she would steal on her belly like a 
 pantheress, and in an instant be upon the wall, and 
 send a "pile" from her bow through the sergeant's 
 heart that would atone for the never-to-be-healed 
 wound he had placed in her ow r n. Crouching down 
 she stealthily crept along, close behind the huge
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 235 
 
 charred prone trunks. Beyond the last one was a 
 space of thirty feet that she must run across, but she 
 was as quick as a ghost, and could not be seen any 
 more than the night wind. In the electric blue reflec- 
 tion of the moon she stood erect, as if one of the re- 
 cumbent trees had lifted its head. As she did so she 
 felt a sharp jab of pain in the sole of one of her feet 
 was she snake-bitten, maybe? She took another step, 
 a second hideous throb in her other foot ; it was pain 
 enough to have made a white woman, or white man, 
 for that matter, sob out or curse, but Short Dress did 
 neither she was a Cherokee maid and bound on re- 
 venge. She took another step, a fresh wound and 
 pain ; a fourth step, another pang, and she dropped 
 down among the logs, writhing in agony. She soon 
 saw the cause of her trouble ; some one had, in antici- 
 pation of Indian treachery, strewn the ground with 
 crowsfeet, anciently called caltraps ; four had run into 
 the soles of her pretty bare feet, and, tug as she might, 
 their fish-hook like tips only imbedded them in her 
 flesh the tighter. There was a burning pain that 
 could not come from iron's wound alone, the crows- 
 feet must be poisoned. Dropping down on her stomach 
 again, she painfully crawled back towards the wel- 
 come depths of the forest, to lie there until daylight, 
 when she would make further efforts to tear out the 
 hideous caltraps. At every move she made the pain 
 that surged through her entire body became more ex- 
 cruciating and her head swam. The poison was 
 getting in its work, she would die without revenge,
 
 236 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 and miserably like a wolf or a skunk, at the white 
 man's hands. It was all that she could do to drag her- 
 self to the forest, where she lay back against the roots 
 of a giant white oak, her whole young frame convul- 
 sively shaking with agony. At last the pain that 
 burned her vitals was more than she could endure : 
 she might scream out and die like a white w r oman or 
 a coward, and not like a Cherokee. She put her 
 fingers in her mouth and bit them until blood streamed 
 down, the pain growing worse each second, yet she 
 would not die shrieking like Berkenhaut's \vife would 
 have expired. 
 
 The end soon came, and she slipped down, lying al- 
 most flat on her back, her stiffened fists dug deeply in 
 her rigid mouth. She was a wistful figure in death, 
 the arrows and bow resting by her side, her eyes look- 
 ing straight ahead through an opening in the branches 
 of the forest undergrowth, towards the stockade. Love 
 crucified ! 
 
 In the morning Captain Dagworthy started out for 
 his usual solitary stroll in the woods, sword at side, 
 debonair and unafraid. He crossed the desolate 
 slashing, stepping very carefully where only the milk- 
 weeds grew among the charred trunks, and entered 
 the noble forest. Through the same vista that ''Short 
 Dress" had tried to take her last look on life, he saw 
 what seemed like Diana sleeping. The red cardinal's 
 feathers were all awry over one eye, but he speedily 
 recognized her as Woodpecker's Head. Stooping over 
 he looked for the cause of her death and saw the four
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 237 
 
 murderous caltraps in her feet, the crooked points 
 coming out through the insteps. "The poisoned 
 crows feet oh, hell!" he said. "I did not want to do 
 it. but that German libber Berkenhaut was all for it, 
 and we have killed the most beautiful thing in the 
 world !" Looking at the poor fists clenched in her 
 mouth, the clotted blood on fingers and. chin, he ex- 
 claimed: "Poor Short Dress! She died gamer than 
 many a gentleman who has been brought up on codes 
 of honor ; she would shame my entire garrison." 
 
 All thoughts of a walk were over, and he picked up 
 the limp corpse and carried it carefully across the 
 slashing, watching every step, and under the fcr a 
 chc'i'al portal of the stockade, lie laid the body down 
 where the floating streamer of his King's flag shaded 
 it from above, and blew his whistle. Instantly the 
 guard rushed out, among them Sergeant Berkenhaut. 
 They jumped back at the sight of the corpse, but the 
 sergeant called them to attention. Captain Dagworthy 
 ordered a grave dug, and when it was done, himself 
 tenderly placed the dead girl in it, along with her bow 
 and arrows, but ordered that the grave be not filled up 
 immediately. He then motioned for Berkenhaut to come 
 to him. "Sergeant," he said, severely, "we are either 
 men or brutes, and the death of this Cherokee girl 
 proves that we are not engaged in civilized warfare. 
 Send the guard out and gather up every damned caltrap 
 in the clearing, and bring them to me, and I will put 
 them where they will do no further harm." The ser- 
 geant was wise in the ways of the frontier enough to
 
 238 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 know that the dead girl was his would-be slayer, and 
 that the crowsf eet had saved him, but he had the -work 
 performed with a will, and laid an old straw beehive 
 full of the villainous little instruments of torture at his 
 captain's feet. Captain Dagworthy was visibly af- 
 fected, but he began strewing the caltraps in the open 
 grave like sprigs of Acacia, and as the last one was in 
 he told his men to fill it up. "Good bye, Woodpecker's 
 Head, bravest of maidens," he whispered as the sods 
 were leveled over it. When all was done, he ordered a 
 salute fired', and stood until the last echoes of the vol- 
 leys were lost among the dizzy crags of Sidney's Knob.
 
 XVIII. The Timber Line 
 
 IT was a raw, cold afternoon in the midst of the 
 Equinoxial storms of early October ; there had 
 been a heavy rain all the forenoon, which had 
 been followed by high winds and later by a decided 
 drop in the temperature ; leaves as they fell seemed 
 to stick to ground and boardwalks. 
 
 Jonathan Hastie stood on the narrow platform at 
 a little railway junction some miles South of Carlisle, 
 waiting for the Northbound train. It was a dreary, 
 forbidding looking place, yet it was not without at- 
 tractions for him. It was during the next to the last 
 year of the Civil war that he had last been there, en- 
 camped with his Company for a period that would 
 have seemed longer than necessary had it not been 
 for a romantic attachment formed yet he had not 
 been back though nearly ten years had intervene 
 
 Time and many more or less stirring events had 
 almost obliterated the sentimental memories of his 
 sojourn, they were not the hrst thoughts that came 
 to him as stepped off the wheezy, pokey, swaying lit- 
 tle train. They were martial thoughts, full of the 
 color and action of camp and field, the bombardment 
 of Carlisle, the burning of Chambersburg, the thwart- 
 ed raid from Casey's Gap, the ruling instincts of a 
 healthy out-door man. Then when the vivid pictures 
 of military life were reviewed came other images, a 
 distant view of Mount Parnell, as seen from an old 
 mansion near the gently flowing Conodogwinet, sun- 
 
 239
 
 240 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 set in an orchard, the pavements of a village street 
 covered with yellow leaves, a quail whistling in a 
 clover field, a country Christinas eve on a snowy 
 night, the most heautiful pictures of the civilian life 
 he had touched w r hile camped at the junction, and 
 Vanessa Everett. 
 
 Where was she at that moment, what had become 
 of her, was she still at the comfortable old white 
 painted farmhouse over by the mill? She had been 
 a faithful correspondent until his half of the letter 
 writing partnership lapsed. And when they ceased, 
 his temporary abodes in his travels had known her 
 little, uneven, scratchy hand no more. And where 
 were the letters, those frank, sincere, wonderful let- 
 ters, pure and fresh as mountain breezes ! In a card- 
 board box somewhere, perhaps at home, or mayhap 
 had helped brighten a fire as they had his heart, ere 
 this. 
 
 As his thoughts crystallized on Vanessa, he began 
 pacing up and down the platform, a feeling of rest- 
 lessness came over him, together with sharp pains as 
 if the blood were racing to the heart too fast, all his 
 old imperturbability was gone. Several times he went 
 into the station to find out about the train ; it was an 
 hour late ; it was seldom less than that, but might be 
 making up time, the agent said, so the young man 
 decided not to leave the platform and cross the open 
 common where he had camped, but where now the
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 241 
 
 cordwood for the engines was piled, for a stroll up 
 the village street. 
 
 At length the shrill whistle was heard from behind 
 the oak grove which masked the curve, then the 
 bulbous smokestack hove in sight, 'spouting great 
 masses of dark wood smoke ; the cars were visible 
 swaying and toddling behind. The agent came out on 
 the platform, two or three habitues appeared, seem- 
 ingly from nowhere, the little station took on a look of 
 animation, further enhanced by the arrival at the last 
 minute of a shirt-sleeved Negro pushing a rattling 
 baggage truck. With great creaking of brakes and 
 valves, the wood-burner came to a halt. Several pas- 
 sengers were alighting. There was one, a young wo- 
 man, taller and slimmer than the rest; she wore a black 
 velvet hat. a dark fur was around her neck ; there was 
 something familiar in her sallowness and brown eyes. 
 
 As these details adjusted themselves in Jonathan 
 1 fastie's consciousness he realized that he was face to 
 face with Vanessa Everett, the object of most of his 
 thoughts for the past hour. Their eyes met, there was 
 surprise in their glances; they greeted one another as 
 if they had been parted but a day, instead of for nearly 
 ten years. Vanessa looked not a day older than when 
 they last met : so young, in fact, that it was as if 
 she had been subtracted from the ordinary course 
 of existence and left to stay at twenty ! Jonathan 
 could not recall the circumstances of the parting; 
 probably they had driven to the waterfall ba'ck of Par-
 
 242 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 nell in Yankee Gap, their favorite drive. Then he had 
 gone off with his Company and had not returned. 
 
 During the intervening years, though he had spent 
 most of his time in the North Tier of Pennsylvania, a 
 winter in Michigan and another in the Adirondack 
 Mountans of Northern New York, he had not alto- 
 gether lost track of Vanessa. Only a month before he 
 had met a man who was a non-commissioned officer in 
 his old Company, who had re-visited the Junction 
 where he was told that she was still unmarried. There- 
 fore his greeting was a trifle more cordial than if such 
 a barrier to further acquaintance existed, at least on 
 her side. 
 
 Yes, Vanessa was looking just the same, what 
 were nine years and more ! The wavy almost black 
 hair, the dark brows, the deep-set eyes of such un- 
 usual shade of brown and gold, the long black 
 iashes, the pretty mouth with lips of magenta color, 
 (the corners descending; the small, even teeth, set far 
 apart, which showed when she smiled, were just as 
 white as ever; the slightly aquline -nose, the meagre 
 cheeks revealing the firm lines of the jaw, the oriental 
 sallowness, all were unchanged. The years had re- 
 spited and, if anything, enhanced these superlative 
 charms. 
 
 Then the impatient whistle blew and the polished 
 brass bell clanged. Before Jonathan climbed aboard 
 and resumed his journey northward he asked Vanessa 
 to write him to General Delivery, Muncy, Lycoming 
 County. She said she would, gladly. His heart was
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 243 
 
 beating fast, little chills and thrills went through him, 
 all his old love life burned as of yore. It had been 
 lying dormant ready to burst forth again at sight of 
 the beloved object. Is love a chrysallis? He had felt 
 very despondent during the day, for some unaccount- 
 able reason, but the sight of her was like a brisk thun- 
 derstorm to revive his spiritual atmosphere. The last 
 letters he had received from her meant much to him, 
 but he had come to think of her seldom, and rarely 
 dreamed of her. Yet he was always thrilled when he 
 heard her name mentioned, but that was all. He had 
 been much agitated at the possibility of seeing her on 
 one occasion six months before when he thought that 
 he could reach his destination by way of the Junction. 
 The time-table was not accommodating ; he went a 
 different way, but not without pangs of regret. That 
 had told him that his love was the same. Now he had 
 seen her and his heart beat wilder than ever. Why 
 had his love been laid away to be revived by seeing her 
 for a moment after an interval of nine years? Per- 
 haps it had burned too fiercely in its heydey ; it needed 
 to be laid on the shelf for a while so as not to burn 
 itself out. If anything his emotion now was stronger 
 than before ; he was more mature over thirty was it 
 not natural that, like all the vital forces, it should gain 
 ii. strength. The elation of seeing her was succeeded 
 by nervousness ; so uneasy did he feel that when he 
 reached Harrisburg he was glad to draw the cur- 
 tains on his consciousness by going immediately 
 to bed after a light supper at the Commonwealth.
 
 244 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Before he fell asleep he blamed himself for allowing 
 any one who possessed such a hold on his soul to be 
 taken out of his life, but there were reasons which at 
 the time seemed insurmountable. 
 
 In the morning, after a good night's rest, he felt 
 differently, and on his journey up the Susquehanna 
 Valley was resigned to things as they were, and tried 
 to recollect if there were any little incidents that had 
 depressed the flame of his love. But if there were any, 
 they were inconsequential in guaging human character. 
 He was far from satisfied at the way destiny had guid- 
 ed him, and yesterday's meeting still caused the warm 
 blood of love to tingle in his heart. Life again seemed 
 wonderfully sweet, as sweet as the gentle, wistful 
 loveliness of the quiet little valleys that opened out as 
 the train jogged by. 
 
 He spent the night at Muncy, his last waking recol- 
 lections being of Vanessa, but the following morning 
 made him even more resigned to things as they were. 
 But at rare intervals came the accusing thought, why 
 had he allowed one who was capable of causing him 
 so much happiness to be stolen from his life? We 
 live but once, and there is so much unhappmess for 
 most of us ! 
 
 At daybreak began a long carriage journey up the 
 Loyalsook Valley to the North Mountain, where he 
 was to survey a large tract of original timber that was 
 about to change ownership. The pineries began near 
 the summit of the North Mountain and ran north- 
 ward, crossing so many ridges that it seemed to be a
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 245 
 
 dark carpet laid over the so-called Impassable or End- 
 less Mountains of the old map-makers. 
 
 It was a pleasant drive up the dreamy Loyalsock. 
 The road was fairly good, the scenery was magnifi- 
 cent, the dark mountain background in every picture, 
 the birches and lindens along the water's edge, the dun 
 and buff leafed hickories in the rolling fields, the red 
 maples on the hillsides, the fire blackened stumps in 
 the new ground. The air was pregnant with the odor 
 of falling leaves, of apples, wild grapes. Jonathan 
 Hastie admired the charming vistas, but ever and anon 
 came the picture of Vanessa, vividly before him. She 
 seemed to be hovering near him, a spiritualized winged 
 victory. He was glad the journey was so long, it was 
 beautiful, so like Vanessa, and he liked to be alone 
 with his thoughts. In his mind, as in every one else's, 
 K a World of Things as They Should Be why isn't 
 that the real world and the world of cares and 
 thwarted hopes the illusion ? He saw a large button- 
 wood tree by the stream, with many broken branches, 
 each like a hope well begun but shattered. Pascal has 
 said' that a prolonged dream would be the same as 
 reality. Happy are the dreamers, for they have found 
 the real life, the kernel of existence; the outei shell- 
 life doesn't count, though we exalt it undeservedly. 
 God is within, in the life of the spirit, that is why He 
 is so hard to find in this hard outside wcfrld. Get 
 within, be with the spirit and find contentment. 
 
 As the day waned the North Mountain loomed 
 nearer and vaster. He could make out clearly the
 
 246 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 great body of land that he was to survey, its dark 
 timber line of pine and hemlock came just to the crest, 
 everything below was deciduous woods, burnt-umber 
 in the falling light. What vast approaches there were 
 to the North Mountain, first of all the fields sloped 
 towards it, then the wooded hills, then the flying 
 buttresses of outlying ridges, all working up to the 
 culmination of the mighty mountain itself. And be- 
 yond were endless ranges, equally high, one ranked 
 behind the other, an army of mountains, so endless as 
 to seem impassable. 
 
 It was somewhere out beyond there that he was to 
 camp at the headquarters of the forester, it might be 
 four or five ridges, at least beyond the North Moun- 
 tain. It \vas long past dark when the team drew up at 
 the little hunter's lodge below Forksville, where the 
 Big and Little Loyalsock Creeks came together. 
 Several ''pheasant" hunters were Quartered at the 
 inn. They were a noisy set with their dogs. Jonathan 
 felt strangely out of harmony with them, though he 
 was generally very friendly disposed towards most 
 everyone. The racket of the place, the fatigue of the 
 long drive, all scattered the thoughts of Vanessa ; he 
 telt very normal as he sat by the ten-plate stove, ab- 
 sorbing its warmth and occasionally throwing blocks of 
 birchwoocl into it. He slept dreamlessly, as was his 
 custom, except when some vital event was to occur, 
 when like the old people, he "dreamed straight." 
 The future's blows were revealed to him when the
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 247 
 
 fateful axe was raised, yet they seemed just as hard 
 when they fell ! 
 
 In the morning there was a heavy fog, almost a 
 "Scotch mist," and it was difficult to find the moun- 
 tain trail after leaving the public road. It was a steep, 
 uphill climb all day, across endless mountains. The 
 road, of course, followed the creeks and hillsides 
 where it could, but it included some gruelling climbs 
 as well, the steam rose off the backs of the patient, 
 willing horses. It was a rough trip, but Jonathan's 
 wits were about him ; he was laying plans for his 
 work, how to do it expeditiously and efficiently. 
 Ruffed grouse frequently flew up from the grass- 
 grown trail during the afternoon, a great horned owl, 
 or "Peck," as the teamster called it, winged its noise- 
 less flight from one old oak to another, parallel with 
 the road, just at dusk. He loved the even flute like 
 nocturne of this bird which sounded like Toot-toot-a- 
 loo, Toot-toot-a-aloo! It was very different from the 
 tremolo of the smaller screech owl. 
 
 It was dark again when the carriage emerged from 
 the deep hemlock forest by the edge of a tiny, crystal- 
 line lake. Nearby was a cabin of round logs, the rosy 
 lamplight was streaming through the tiny lights in 
 the window. The forester, young John Conley, also 
 a Civil War veteran, heard the approaching team and 
 came up the path to greet the visitors, his hunting 
 dogs jumping and barking at his side. It was a scene 
 of cheerful welcome. Even pallid Venus in the clear
 
 248 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 sky above the pond beamed down in tones of real 
 friendliness. 
 
 Jonathan jumped out of the cariole to shake hands 
 with the forester, and soon the team stopped by the 
 porch, where all his instruments and baggage were 
 unloaded. Conley opened the door, there was a hot 
 fire in the cookstove, a brand new coal-oil lamp, a 
 novelty in those days, shed its generous light from a 
 table .by the window, on w 7 hich the supper was 
 waiting. 
 
 It was a pleasant, cordial evening, a man's evening, 
 yet the shade of Vanessa was present in his inmost 
 thoughts. The night was passed very comfortably 
 and the next day was a very busy one. 
 
 From the tallest peak a view of the Southerly coun- 
 try ranging up to the North Mountain massif was ob- 
 tained for miles around. To the annoyance of Con- 
 ley, forest fires w r ere seen raging in the deciduous 
 woods on the lower slopes. They hardly ever did 
 much damage in the original timber, but the boundaries 
 would have to be watched. The survey was post- 
 poned for a couple of days while the forester secured 
 the services of a dozen or more mountain men to 
 guard the approaches to the virgin forest, especially 
 hollows or drafts where there were slashings, or old 
 skidways abandoned by unprogressive lumbermen. 
 This left the young surveyor much to himself, and on 
 the first of the lonely evenings he wrote a long epistle 
 to Vanessa. He could get it posted promptly, as the 
 teamster was returning to Muncy the next day, be-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 249 
 
 sides it gave him a decided spiritual relief to pour out 
 his heart in a letter. Yet it was not as frank and affec- 
 tionate a missive as had been Vanessa's letters, even 
 towards the end of their correspondence, but he could 
 not even now make up his mind what she would 
 mean to him in the future. Did she care for him as 
 much as he did for her ; he was never certain of that, 
 even after her devotion as expressed in her letters. 
 Doubting was his fault, he had missed nine years with 
 her that might have been the happiest of his life, 
 through it ! 
 
 That night when Conley came in it was past sup- 
 per time. He said that the fires were checked at much 
 lower levels than the timber line, but that they were 
 burning from east to west through the second growth 
 areas which stood between the farming country and 
 the virgin forest on the summits. Communication be- 
 tween the Southern valleys and his camp were cut off, 
 it was fortunate that the teamster who had brought 
 the young surveyor had fetched with him a liberal 
 supply of provisions. 
 
 Jonathan felt the sense of isolation, to the south 
 were conflagrations, to the east and west, forest, 
 forest, to the north, the forested and impassable moun- 
 tains. He seemed very much alone, and Vanessa 
 very far away. How cozy to have her at the camp 
 with him his wife. What a pity it had been ordain- 
 ed that she should not have been his helpmate for the 
 past nine years. What a joy he had missed, how 
 much further advanced in the spiritual life he would
 
 250 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 have been through her if she had loved him as much 
 as he had her ! 
 
 He walked out along the lake before retiring, the 
 Mnoke had risen to the high altitudes and obscured 
 the stan;, he could smell it in the air. In the dark 
 hemlocks back of the log cabin the Peck was fluting 
 his "Toot-toot-a-loo." 
 
 When he returned to the cabin he found several 
 grimy fire-fighters talking to the forester. The gist 
 of their conversation was that one fire in a deep 
 ravine was within half a mile of the timber line. 
 Should they fight it all night or wait until morning' 
 The air was so heavy there might be a shower. Cot:- 
 ley insisted that they keep fighting all night, dJil 
 when they started to go he decided to accompany 
 them back to the scene of their operations "to get 
 them started right." The young surveyor wanted to 
 go along, but the forester advised him to remain and 
 watch the camp. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock when he retired. The 
 air in the room was close, so he threw back wide the 
 swinging window that opened out on the porch roof, 
 even though it admitted the smoke that was settling 
 down over the mountain top. The air was so murky 
 that it made him restless ; he was slow in falling 
 asleep, and his mind surged with unpleasant thoughts. 
 
 He had slept probably for an hour or two when he 
 awoke suddenly and sat bolt upright in bed. Daylight 
 was approaching. Some one was at the window look- 
 ing in. It was Vanessa. She wore no hat, and her
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 251 
 
 hair, parted in the middle, hung in uneven strands at 
 the sides of her forehead. There were patches of' 
 soot on her cheeks. Her dress was torn at the throat, 
 the sleeves were gone, her long slim arms were cov- 
 ered with soot, as were the palms of her hands. 
 Jonathan was amazed, were his eyes deceiving him? 
 
 "How did you come here over all these mountains, 
 through the terrible fires?" he gasped. 
 
 In answer Vanessa raised her hands, the soot was 
 more like burns she had suffered from the flames. 
 Jonathan brushed back the hair from his eyes so as 
 to see more clearly. There was no mistaking 
 Vanessa, and she was probably badly hurt. He made 
 ;> move to get out of the bed, a sudden gust of air shut 
 the window with a bang. Vanessa was not outside 
 the pane when he opened it. 
 
 It was all a dream, one of those strange fantasies 
 that haunt the borderland between the sleeping- and 
 the waking worlds, but are pictorial visitions of 
 realities. There was nothing left to do but to clress 
 and go down stairs. He heard sounds in the lobby; 
 was Vanessa down there waiting for him? Despite 
 all his doubts he had some faith in his visitation. It 
 was only the forester building a fire in the cook-stove. 
 
 Jonathan told him that he had a strange dream 
 which upset him, and went outside to get some fresh 
 air. There was much smoke about, though Conley 
 declared that the fires were well under control. 
 
 The surveying work began that day and lasted a 
 month, until completed. It was within a day or two
 
 252 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 of thanksgiving when Jonathan started on the return 
 drive to Muncy. It was a cold, raw day, the trees 
 were bare, the fallen leaves already crisp and color- 
 less. During the long trip he was buoyed up by the 
 thought that perhaps one, maybe two or three letters 
 from Vanessa would be waiting for him at the Post 
 Office. Conley, who accompanied him, must have 
 wondered at his anxiety to reach his destination, his 
 strange uncommunicativeness on the way. 
 
 They got as far as Lairdsville the first night, would 
 be in Muncy easily before noon the next day. The 
 young surveyor passed a restless night, to be so near 
 and yet so far from news of one he loved. He was 
 sure of his love now, no matter what his imperfections 
 were, he had so many faults he should not have de- 
 manded perfection when not constructed that way him- 
 self. He had lost nine or ten years, perhaps the best of 
 his life, away from her; what had he gained. Spirit- 
 ually he was a rolling stone, without the anchor of 
 love. Next morning they made an early start. The 
 horses seemed to fly over the frosty highway. It was 
 ? little before noon when old Muncy town was reach- 
 ed. He asked to be driven first to the Post Office. 
 
 Conley asked him the cause of his anxiety. Jon- 
 athan smiled and looked at the forester, who guessed. 
 But his disappointment was keen, as there was no 
 mail for him. 
 
 During the afternoon he held a long conference 
 with the representatives of the Philadelphia esta*" 
 who were disposing of the North Mountain timbei
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 253 
 
 lands and the Williamsport lumbermen who were 
 acquiring it. Everything passed off satisfactorily, 
 but he was glad to be able to board the night train 
 east. He was going back to the Junction in the 
 South Mountain country. All the way down in the 
 slow train he tortured himself. It was Vanessa who 
 had turned the tables and not written. Doubtless she 
 had met someone else she cared for, and he deserved 
 that final punishment. Sometimes in the old days he 
 feared that she cared for someone and it had caused 
 him much unhappiness. Was it too late to overhaul a 
 fate that was nearly ten years gone into oblivion ? 
 
 It was midnight when he reached Harrisburg, and 
 noon the next day before he could get a train out of 
 there on the Cumberland Valley. It was late after- 
 noon, Thanksgiving Eve, when he got off the tiny 
 unstable train at the Junction, in sight of the South 
 Mountains. A crowd of more than usual proportions 
 was on the platform. He scanned the faces to see if 
 by any chance Vanessa was among them ; she was not 
 there this time. He quickly walked across the com- 
 mon, where the 'ranks of cord wood for the engines 
 were piled in endless ranks where his old camp had 
 stood in '(54. He reached the village street. The 
 maples were bare, and shook and shivered in the even- 
 ing wind. A few lights were already appearing in 
 the windows of the long rows of cottages, all painted 
 alike, a spotless white. Beyond the village were fields, 
 and at the foot of the wooded hill by the creek stood 
 the commodious home of Vanessa's parents near the
 
 254 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 old red mill. There was but a single light visible in 
 an upstairs window, which looked towards the village. 
 
 Jonathan had eaten nothing since breakfast; he 
 was too nervous to tarry anywhere, and each minute 
 his fast-beating heart seemed pounding a thousand 
 times harder against his breast. Why was that light 
 it: the upstairs window, with all the rest of the house 
 in darkness ? Was it Vanessa's room, where she was 
 stirring herself to go to a Thanksgiving supper 
 with ivhom? 
 
 These thoughts spurred him on to taking even 
 longer steps. As he neared the house he looked up 
 a 1 ; the window. The shade was not drawn, but he 
 could see no one. He opened the old fashioned 
 \\rought iron gate, where Vanessa and he had stood 
 in any evenings together, loathe to part, even postpon- 
 ing the fateful "last minute." He followed the brick 
 path around to the side door, which was on the oppo- 
 side side of the house from the illuminated window. 
 There was a light within; it shone through the stain- 
 ed-glass transom, but the shades were down. 
 
 The young man knocked, less hard it seemd than 
 his heart thumped that instant. He heard footsteps ; 
 it was only a moment until the door was opened and 
 Vanessa's mother stood before him. Slie recognized 
 him instantly, and smiled. 
 
 "Why, if it isn't Captain Hastie. Vanessa told me 
 that she saw you one evening at the Junction about 
 six or seven weeks ago, and she got a letter or two 
 from you."
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 255 
 
 "How is she ? Is she at home ? Where is she ?" 
 paid Jonathan impetuously. 
 
 "Vanessa, I am sorry to say, met with a very pecu- 
 liar accident ahout a month ago," replied the mother. 
 "She may have told you how fond she always was of 
 reading at night. She had been feeling very nervous 
 for a couple of weeks and could not sleep. She was 
 lying in bed with a book, with a candle on a small 
 table by the bedstead when she fell into a dose, turn- 
 ing over on her face, her usual position. It was a 
 sultry night for the time of year, and the window 
 across from the bed was wide open. Sometime dur- 
 ing the night a gust of wind must have upset the 
 candle, for it set fire to the bedding, and the dear 
 girl's hands and arms were frightfully burned. The 
 strangest part of it all is that she slept through it all 
 until morning. She has suffered a great deal ; even 
 now she is feeling far from comfortable." 
 
 The young man expressed his sorrow at the acci- 
 dent, and asked the mother if he might see the girl 
 ?t once. The mother replied in the affirmative and 
 went to apprise her of his coming. Jonathan was 
 agitated beyond expression. What had happened that 
 sultry night in the Impassable Mountains was more 
 than a dream or hallucination. His anguish at 
 Vanessa's sufferings was unbounded, for perhaps his 
 ('ream had caused her accident. It is a fearful thing 
 to launch a thought. 
 
 Soon the mother returned and asked the young 
 r-an to follow her. She said that Vanessa was de-
 
 256 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 lighted to hear that he had come. On the way up the 
 broad old fashioned staircase it dawned on him why 
 Vanessa had not written. The mother opened the 
 door. By a table, on which was an oil lamp of latest 
 design, sat Vanessa, her dark wavy hair parted in the 
 middle. A cashmere shawl was about her shoulders, 
 her arms were still bandaged. An open volume, Cap- 
 tain Francis Grose's "Popular Superstitions," was 
 propped against a book-rest on the table. She turned 
 the pages with a penholder in her lips. Her face 
 loked even narrower and more sallow than when he 
 saw her six weeks before, but to him even more 
 uniquely beautiful. She started to get up as he ap- 
 proached. Before she could do so he sprang forward 
 and put his arms around her neck and kissed her 
 many times on her pretty mouth, so much in form 
 and color like a coral brooch, pouring out the pent- 
 up love of years. Amid the kisses she made out to 
 whisper : 
 
 "How did you get here over all these mountains?" 
 
 "I believe I have heard you say that before," said 
 Jonathan, to her great astonishment. 
 
 "Where, tell me where," she said eagerly. With- 
 out waiting for him to reply she continued: "What 
 a grand surprise for Thanksgiving Eve," her eyes 
 lighting up with unfeigned delight. "Now you can 
 see why I did not write." 
 
 As she spoke she held up her two bandaged hands. 
 
 The mother had long suspected the admiration 
 which Vanessa felt for Jonathan ; it had caused her
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 257 
 
 much uneasiness. It made her happy when she saw 
 how deeply it was reciprocated, despite all the years 
 01 separation. She noiselessly withdrew from the 
 room, shutting the door. Then the young lover, still 
 holding his arms around her neck, and with IT.J 
 cheek pressed close to hers, told Vanessa of his weird 
 visitation in the log cabin among the Impassable 
 Mountains. Dates were compared; the night he had 
 seen Vanessa's Rede at the open window was the 
 very night that she had been so mysteriously burned 
 in her bed. 
 
 "I was thinking of you, oh, so much that night, I 
 could get no satisfaction from the book. I must have 
 fallen to sleep with the desire to see you so strong 
 that J had to travel to that tire-swept country to do 
 so, and got burned on the way !" 
 
 ''And you came to me, across all those mountains, 
 through the fires," said Jonathan. "And though you 
 suffered cruelly, it was the flame of our love which 
 has been burning so long, and which was so well con- 
 cealed that burst forth, and it shall never again cause 
 you pain in this world or the next."
 
 XIX. The Scalp Bounty 
 
 THE month past had been an unremunerative one 
 for the Rangers. No proscribed or outlaw 
 Indians had crossed their path, hence no 
 scalps had been brought in. This scalp bounty made 
 a nice addition to the otherwise slim pay of the 
 Rangers ; they pursued the chase of redskins for 
 financial reasons more than to satisfy the law of re- 
 prisal. When the scalp bounty lapsed the day of the 
 Rangers was done, they resigned and deserted, or re- 
 tired at the expiration of their enlistments, just as 
 the modern "government man" in the West would 
 quit the service if the bloodthirsty Biological Survey 
 stopped paying rewards on the scalps of coyotes, wild 
 cats or prairie dogs. But towards the last days of the 
 scalp bounty it was scarcity of Indians rather than any 
 other cause that reduced the sum total of the pay- 
 ments. 
 
 The drop in the number of scalps brought in caused 
 Maclay to suggest supplying the Rangers with blood- 
 hounds so as to facilitate the slaughter. On this par- 
 ticular month there was a growing restlessness among 
 the scalp hunters owing to poor results. No one had 
 been able to even pick a quarrel with a squaw and 
 have her run howling to an encampment to arouse the 
 warriors to righteous indignation, thereby supplying 
 the Rangers with an acceptable excuse for a massa- 
 cre and lots of scalps. 
 
 Among the officers Captains Peter Pentz and Peter 
 
 258
 
 i Lincoln Highway 
 
 Looking Towards 
 Gettysburg
 
 XIX. The Scalp Bounty 
 
 Ti i } : . rr.omh past had been an unremunerative one 
 ft)''- the Rangers. No proscribed or outlaw 
 in<!;au> had crossed their path, hence no 
 scalps h;m been brought in. This scaip bounty made 
 a MK'.- addition to the otherwise s4ini pay of the 
 i\;iiii,M > ; they pursued (he chase of redskins for 
 tina, ri.-ii -,'c.isons more than to satisfy the law of re- 
 Tiris'I. \\ hen T'IK- scai bount ia.'ed tlie da of the 
 
 wa 
 
 on of their enlistmei 
 
 fted, or re- 
 ts, just as 
 est would 
 cal Survey 
 votes, wild 
 lays of the 
 ;r than any 
 ] O' the pay- 
 
 .re iiun)l>er of :v-a!j "urouglit in caused 
 
 lot supplying ti-e Rangers with blood- 
 'aciiitatt,. thr -laugliter. ( >n this par- 
 
 : ; e-e wa.= a .er-twing res' ie> -ness among 
 
 A ing >" j.ioor results. Xn one had 
 
 .n | ;ck a f|uarr<:-l with a squaw and 
 
 '\\i-u^ : an etica'iipnient to arouse the. 
 
 . ite'ii's indignation, thereby supplying 
 
 lit a 71 acceptable excuse for a inassa- 
 
 f scalps. 
 
 ifnccr-- (.';ii>i.';ins IVter Pentz and Peter
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 259 
 
 Grove and Lieutenant Grove obtained leave of ab- 
 sence to go up country and look after their corn. 
 Genevieve Loverhill, Lieutenant Michael Grove's girl 
 orderly, naturally of a restless disposition, decided to 
 take a hunting trip to the headwaters of White Deer 
 Creek. The desired quarry was to be an elk's calf in 
 its spotted coat, not that the hide was of much value, 
 even when tanned with salt, but just to bag one of 
 the pretty little creatures. 
 
 Leaving the camp at the mouth of Buffalo Path 
 Run, the fearless girl, who was known as "Loverhill 
 of the Rangers" and "The Indian Killer," started alone 
 for the waters of White Deer, where on the high 
 tablelands among the open groves of yellow pines, the 
 cow elks and their young were fond of summering. 
 Loverhill followed the South Branch in the direction 
 of Hope Valley, where at the Shraeder Spring the 
 creek has its heading. Out on the divide towards 
 the source of Elk Creek, there were innumerable elk 
 families in certain seasons when pasturage was to 
 their liking. The young huntress followed the top of 
 the ridge on the Winter side of the valley, finding 
 many traces of game. As she had left the camp at 
 daybreak, it looked as if a calf would fall to her un- 
 erring aim before sunset. 
 
 In Freclericks's Gap she came close to a band o'f 
 bull elks, their superb antlers just coming out of the 
 velvet, the long tattered shreds suspended to them 
 like the "old man's beard" moss that hangs from the 
 cypress trees in a southern swamp. Ordinarily she
 
 260 
 
 would have killed two or three just for the sport of 
 seeing them fall, but on this occasion she hoped that 
 on the way a stray Indian might be apprehended and 
 a shot fired at random at a bull elk would put the 
 marked men on their guard. 
 
 In places where there had been windfalls among 
 the giant hemlocks, and she could see the sky, the day 
 was one of rare beauty. The clouds were fleecy and 
 white, as they always are when the Keewaydin or 
 North West Wind is blowing. In the late afternoon, 
 when the lengtheing of the shadows tended toward 
 the golden hour, ''the hour of peace and plenty," the 
 Indians called it. as she softly crept along a bench 
 on the slope of Tunis' Knob, there was little under- 
 brush, only row after row of giant hemlocks like 
 swart smooth pillars upholding the azure and gold 
 canopy, she noticed a splendid cow elk followed by 
 her pretty mottled calf moving along on the mossy 
 bank of the creek, in the direction of the source. 
 They were out of gunshot, and as she took a few 
 steps down the steep slope to get closer, she noted an 
 Indian following in wake, perhaps three hundred 
 yards to the eastward. Probably he carried an anti- 
 quated musket and must fire at close range ; if Lover- 
 hill had been in his place the calf would have fallen 
 long before. Here was a chance of securing the calf 
 ?nd a fine warrior's scalp besides, "killing two birds 
 with one stone," so she deftly sprang behind an un- 
 usually thick hemlock, unseen by elks or Indians. As 
 she watched the silent procession of hunted and hunt-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 261 
 
 er in the vale beneath, she reasoned the matter about 
 as follows : The Indian will follow the elks to the 
 spring and kill them there. Then he will skin them 
 and bivouac for the night. If he does he will be easily 
 approached and shot. Then with one shot elks and 
 Indian would be obtained. 
 
 There was a natural clearing about the spring 
 where animals and Indians had drunk and rested for 
 untold centuries. If this particular redman camped 
 there he would light a fire, and the smoke even of a 
 small fire would come up through the trees ; he could 
 be stalked and killed by his fireside. 
 
 Just at the last moments of the golden hour, as the 
 sun began to set behind the Western knobs, three 
 shots rang out on the still air. Presumably the shots 
 were successful, the elks had fallen. The declining 
 sun spread out a mass of salmon pink surcharged with, 
 ashes of roses as it sank in purple splendor behind 
 the pine clad summits. There was a very decided 
 dullness to the atmosphere, as there always is when 
 summer wanes. 
 
 Loverhill standing by the giant hemlock almost 
 wished for a campfire herself. She felt hungry and 
 n'bbled at a sugar cookie which she took from her 
 knapsack. As darkness fell she climbed the big hem- 
 lock to the very top no squirrel could have done it 
 more deftly and with her long slim legs and arms 
 securely gripped about the swaying topmost twigs, 
 she awaited developments on the plateau beyond. 
 As she watched, the old shaggy yellow pines on the
 
 262 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ridge became like masses of black velvet against the 
 starlit sky. Then curled upward a thin trail of smoke 
 like grey thread, such as can only come from an Indian 
 camprire, the reclmen always priding themselves on 
 the smallness of their fires. 
 
 The time for action had arrived. Quietly, quickly 
 and surely as a wildcat descends on its prey, Lover- 
 hill slid from her perch on the tree and climbed down 
 the mountain among the tall straight hemlocks that 
 looked so much like columns straight from the black 
 vault of the heavens. It was a long climb and a 
 tedious one, under such circumstances of stealth. 
 She crept behind one tree after another, always paus- 
 ing after each step, but the only sound was the gurgle 
 of the brook over the stones. As she neared the 
 camprire she observed that it was now smoking pro- 
 fusely, the Indian must be asleep 'else he would not 
 allow it to burn so low. Since Indians were hunted 
 for their scalps they always extinguished their fires 
 before retiring for the night; rangers might pass with- 
 in a few feet of sleeping redmen and not suspect their 
 nearness on a black night. Hence Maclay's sugges- 
 tion to use bloodhounds. This must be a very care- 
 less Indian. 
 
 Loverhill primed her rifle and crept on her 
 stomach to the border of the natural clearing in the 
 centre of which rose the rich, cool spring, its banks 
 a swaying mass of cresses. By the embers of the 
 campfire she saw the unskinned carcasses of the cow 
 elk and her calf. It was as she suspected the red-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 263 
 
 man had killed both. But why had the Indian aban- 
 doned them so soon? There were no signs of him 
 c-nywhere. 
 
 To make sure, she made a complete circle of the 
 boundaries of the clearing on her hands and knees ; 
 the redskin was neither at its edges nor within it. 
 Resolutely she strode into the center of the open space. 
 P>y the border of the clearing, well in the shadows of 
 the forest, was the half-decayed trunk of a black birch 
 ?nd on it she sat holding the long barrel of her rifle 
 between her two white hands. She concluded that 
 the Indian had found the track of some other animal, 
 perhaps a bear, and had followed it; he would be back 
 to secure the best of the elks, as the Indians never 
 killed for pastime. She would down him across the 
 carcasses of his quarries. 
 
 Hut he was a very long time coming back. It was 
 a period of ennui, such as brings to active imagina- 
 tions all sorts of fancies, grave and gay, ending in 
 those niostlv of the heart and romance, \\ith Lover- 
 hill the thoughts were eventually of Captain Goheen. 
 whom she had seen and loved the year before at Peter 
 Allen's. She had refused all his expressions of hope 
 for a furtherance of their acquaintance, had turned 
 her back on him, as it were. It was for the best, she 
 was a wild mountain girl who had dressed as a lad 
 and killed Indians for the scalp bounty for three 
 years ; what sort of a companion could she make for 
 a gentleman of culture and refinement like Captain 
 Cecil Goheen, of Philadelphia, and heir of Ashtoun
 
 264 
 
 Hall, County Armagk, Ireland, and the whole of 
 Armagh Township, Cumberland County, Pennsylva- 
 nia ? But she could not eradicate the impression he 
 bad made on her. It came up with heart-breaking 
 vividness this chilly, lonesome night while waiting for 
 <he return of the Indian elk slayer. Perhaps they 
 would have been happy, if he was right and she was 
 wrong. For instance, should he own the choice tract 
 where the Shraeder Spring bubbled out from the 
 earth, it would have made an ideal Manor. The roll- 
 ing slopes of the hills which surrounded the spring 
 could be cleared and turned into corn fields and 
 orchards, a few gnarled Indian apple and plum trees 
 back of the spring told of its previous use by the cop- 
 per-colored aborigines. To clean up this beautiful 
 valley would have given the youthful Captain a 
 definite life's work; he would be like the noblemen of 
 Europe about whose castles and grandeur old Corin- 
 nus Michael delighted to tell of at her father's ingle- 
 nook in the old days on Switzer Run near the 
 Karoondinha. They could even build a castle and 
 tower on the top of Tunis' Knob and dominate the 
 entire watershed of the South Branch of White 
 Deer ! 
 
 She pressed the barrel of the rifle against her cheek 
 and covered her eyes with her long fingers. Why 
 had she let him go away? \Yhy had she refused his 
 preferred gift of a cape made from the fur of Black 
 Cats or Fishers? She had admired Lieutenant Grove 
 for his bravery, that was all. but his spell had been
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 265 
 
 cast three years ago and she was wiser now. Beyond 
 these there was no one else from the Beautiful River 
 to the Lehigh that she cared a straw about, white man 
 or Indian. Captain Goheen, from the Big World, was 
 her ideal. 
 
 With closed eyes she pictured their life together 
 devloping a vast backwoods district ; it would all turn 
 out so harmoniously and easily. In time, if he wished 
 to revisit Philadelphia or Carlisle she would by her 
 ability and devotion wipe out the sanguinary past ; 
 she would study in spare moments, so much so that 
 she could pass muster with the elite, should she ac- 
 company him. She would forget how proud she 
 once was when Captain John Brady styled her in a 
 Deport "Loverhill of the Rangers;" "Lady Goheen, of 
 of Armagh," sounded far nicer. 
 
 Just at that period of her highly colored dreams a 
 doleful wail rang out upon the frosty night. It came 
 from the ridge on the north side of the valley and 
 was not as loud as the first tones of the howl of the 
 Pennsylvania lion and too strident for that of a wild 
 cat. Loverhill had never heard it outside of the 
 Northern Mountains, where it had its habitat. It 
 \:as the cutter waul of the P>ig Grey Wild Cat or 
 Canada Lynx, an animal rarely found south of the 
 West Branch of the Susquehanna, except along the 
 main chain of 'the Alleghenies. Evidently the big 
 feline had smelled the carcasses of the elks and was 
 stealing down the mountain in the direction of the 
 Spring.
 
 266 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 Loverhill's mood changed instantly. She forgot 
 temporarily about Captain Goheen and the Big 
 World. Her thoughts were focused on her chances 
 of killing the Lynx. In another minute the sharp 
 crack of a rifle rang out from the same vicinity on 
 the mountain. The girl -smiled inwardly. 
 
 "I'll get the elks, the grey cat and the Indian as 
 well." She examined the rifle, it was primed; she 
 assumed an alert position to wait for the appearance 
 of the Indian, who would now surely return to the 
 spring with his latest victim. It was not long before 
 she heard the redman coming; his pace was slow, for 
 he was dragging the carcass of a fifty pound "link'' to 
 skin it by the firelight. 
 
 A gust of wind blew into flame the embers, throw- 
 ing a lurid glow into the vault-like recesses of the 
 forest. Loverhill's curiosity to see the Indian's face 
 before firing caused her to hesitate an instant. When 
 she saw who the Indian was, instead of shooting she 
 called out in Pennsylvania Dutch, a language which 
 all Indians understood, "Hend Uff." 
 
 The redman dropped his rifle and the Lynx at the 
 same time, and walked calmly up to the campfire. 
 Loverhill advanced to meet him, handing him her 
 primed rifle as a mark of amity. 
 
 "Why if this isn't old Joe Pan, the Pequot," she 
 laughed. 
 
 The aged redman looked at her with his little shoe- 
 button eyes, then burst out laughing so loudly that
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 267 
 
 they disappeared altogether behind the folds of his big 
 fat cheeks. 
 
 "You're 'Loverhill of the Rangers,' I think v they 
 call you now. I told old Abe, your father, you'd grow 
 up to be as great a tighter as any boy and take the 
 place of the sons he lost when the canoe upset in 
 Sunrish Pond. I'm glad to see you out here." 
 
 Then Genevieve sat down beside him while he put 
 more twigs on the tire and frankly told him how she 
 had plotted to fell an Indian on the carcasses of the 
 elks. Joe Pan did not think any the less of her for this 
 recital, for it was a stern age, an age of blood and 
 reprisals, and anyone who had killed or could kill 
 was the more respected. 
 
 Joe Pan was a character in his way in the Penn- 
 sylvania Mountains. Horn near the sources of the 
 Housatonic Rive, he was a descendant of the remnant 
 of the Pequots who retired to that wiM region of 
 Northwestern Connecticut after the Great Swamp 
 Fight in !(>;>?. He had followed Martin Mack to 
 Pennsylvania as a small bov ; a brother was a chief in 
 the Pequot Reservation on the Housatonic. he had 
 tired of civilization at Herrnhut and fled to the interior. 
 Tie fell in with three Spaniards from the Minisink, 
 Ganoe, Gunsaulus and Xunez, bound for the South 
 Mountains, and 'trapped and traded and ranged through 
 that region with them for several year-;. He had 
 fought the whites and for them ; he was now so old he 
 had lost count of his years, but was able always to 
 elude the scalp hunters.
 
 268 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 After discussing the old times with Loverhill he 
 dragged the huge Lynx up to the fireside preparatory 
 to skinning it. "They call this animal the catamount 
 here," he said, "but in New England we give that 
 name to the panther." 
 
 Genevieve noticed the big, grey-blue eyes on the 
 carcass, eyes that gleamed and glittered like blue 
 diamonds, even in death. 
 
 "Do you know the power of those eyes?" asked the 
 Pequot, noting her curiosity. "\Yhen the animal is 
 alive it can look through rocks or trees ; persons with 
 good eyesight are called lynx-eyed, you know. If you 
 hold one of them up to the firelight you can see 
 through it to any part of the world you have a mind 
 to; if you boil one of them in a little water you can 
 bring any person you desire to your side." 
 
 "Please cut out those eyes and give them to me," 
 said Loverhill, trembling with anguish. 
 
 Joe Pan did as requested and handed one over to 
 her. She held it up to the campfire's ruddy light. 
 Her waxen face assumed an even more ghastly hue 
 as she gazed into it transfixed. In it she saw a large 
 gorgeously decorated room, brilliantly lighted by 
 myriads of candles. It was filled with handsome men 
 in military costumes and beautiful young women in 
 flounced satin gowns, and powdered hair worn high 
 on their heads. Some were dancing, others talking 
 togther in corners, or drinking punch from bowls 
 served by liveried Negro servants. In the most re- 
 mote corner, in an alcove, screened from the rest of
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 269 
 
 the room by a portiere, she beheld Captain Goheen 
 in close conversation with a perfect Watteau picture 
 of feminine loveliness. He was holding her hands, 
 while soon she leaned her pretty head against hit 
 shoulder, and he kissed her many times. 
 
 With her iron nerve shattered, the nerve that had 
 slain a hundred Indians, old and young, Loverhill of 
 the Rangers, gulping back a sob, flung the cat's eye 
 into the fire. 
 
 Meanwhile the Pequot had been boiling the other 
 eye in a small earthen pot that he had brought with 
 him from Wyoming. Seeing her fling away the eye 
 that she had been looking through, he started to 
 empty the vessel into the fire. Genevieve caught him 
 by the wrist before all the precious liquid was spent. 
 
 ''Drink it quickly," the Indian whispered; "I do not 
 think the presence can last long on such a small dose, 
 but you will get some result." 
 
 The girl drank the potion; it tasted like sweet glue. 
 Immediately the magnificent form of Captain Cecil 
 Goheen, in full regimentals, bearing no end of medals 
 pnd a jeweled rapier, stood by the fading light of the 
 campfire. The presence was so real that Joe Pan 
 ground his teeth ; he would have liked to kill the 
 (.\-(]iiisite for his fine trimmings. 
 
 ''For heaven's sake, why do you bring me to this 
 ( utlandish place?" he exclaimed pettishly. Then his 
 eyes rested on Genevieve and a happy smile lit up his 
 hitherto petulant features. 
 
 "Oh. it is you who brought me here; I thought I
 
 270 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 had fainted from the heat of the ballroom." The idea 
 cf a man fainting was too much for Loverhill of the 
 Rangers, handsome as he was and loving him as she 
 did, his condescension, his effeteness were galling. 
 Rushing up to him like a lioness, she was as tall as 
 lie was, she seized him by the shoulders and shook 
 him as a cat would a mouse. 
 
 "Who was that woman you were embracing in 
 the alcove How dare you make love to her after all 
 your protestations to me last winter at Peter Allen's ? 
 I I, who sent you away because I loved you with 
 all my life, and feared that a backwoods girl like me 
 could not make you happy, must now bear witness 
 the briefness and shallowness of your affections. 
 Here in the mountains when we say lore it means 
 for life. I love you and I can kill you." 
 
 Holding him by the gold lace lapel of his sparkling 
 uniform with her right hand, she drew her long bear 
 knife from its sheath with her left. Raising the 
 gleaming blade aloft, she flourished it about as if to 
 rip off the young officer's scalp. The bear knife 
 pierced thin air. The draught from the half-filled 
 bowl had not been sufficient to keep the presence 
 longer. The shade of Captain Goheen faded away 
 back to the cool air of the portico of the ballroom 
 near the festive surroundings that suited it best. 
 
 Joe Pan, the Pequot, took advantage of the tense 
 moment to disappear into the gloom of the wilderness, 
 leaving the carcasses of elks and lynx behind. 
 
 Loverhill of the Rangers was stark mad in the
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 271 
 
 forest for several days. Pat Mucklehenny met her 
 brandishing her scalping knife and muttering to her- 
 self near the headwaters of Love Run; he led her to 
 his cabin on the \Yest Branch near the mouth of 
 Tiadaghton where she finally recovered and went back 
 to join her command at the mouth of Buffalo Path 
 Run. 
 
 In military and social circles it was whispered about 
 that during the grand ball given to celebrate the prob- 
 able 're-occupation of the City of Philadelphia by the 
 Colonial Army, doubtless owing to the crush and the 
 lack of ventilation, Captain Cecil Goheen had sudden- 
 ]\ fallen to the floor in a swoon. "When he recovered 
 and hour later, he told of a strange vision he had ex- 
 perienced, of being in a dark forest, of an attack by 
 some one with a scalping knife. It was weeks before 
 he recovered his equilibrium and returned to his 
 sumptuous quarters at Fort Washington. But he 
 could not obliterate this terrible dream to his dying 
 day. the very sight of an unsheathed dagger sending 
 Ir'm into paroxysms of nervous excitement and tears, 
 yet he never forgot the night spent at Peter Allen's.
 
 XX. Mary Casselman, Redemptioner 
 
 WHEN young Patterson Irvine returned from 
 an unsuccessful chase after a stray- buffalo, 
 which chase had consumed more than a 
 week and led him far into the wilds of what is now 
 Sullivan County, he rather sheepishly entered the 
 manor house through a side entrance. It was in the 
 late afternoon, and the bright rays of the September 
 sun were shining into the great hall through the front 
 door, which stood open. He was surprised to see. 
 seated on a small chair, with her back turned to him, 
 sewing, the figure of a young and slender girl. 
 Though she heard him open and shut the door, and 
 his footsteps on the deal floor, she did not turn 
 around. The young man watched her, as he ascend- 
 ed the staircase to his room ; she must be very pretty 
 if a rear view could be a guarantee. He noticed that 
 she had wavy, soft brown hair, her smooth cheek 
 was pink like a peach, her white neck was graceful, 
 the lines of her form discernible through a chc.u> 
 clinging frock of pink material were curved and sup- 
 ple, Junoesque. 
 
 He was quite overcome by the charm of the un- 
 known, so much so that he forgot the pique of his 
 unproductive hunt, and left off abusing inwardly the 
 stupidity of the Indian servants who had accom- 
 panied him in the capacity of "beaters." He used 
 particular care to look well that night, he washed 
 and exchanged his rough hunters' garb for his best 
 
 272
 
 A Distant View 
 of 
 
 Buchanan Valley 
 

 
 XX. Mary Casselman, Redemptioner 
 
 \\ 7 ' ' '"^ >'^ UT1 g Patterson Irvine returned from 
 
 a:.t unsuccessful chase after a stray buffalo. 
 
 vhich chase had consumed mure than a 
 
 weejr M.:d led hv.n far into the wilds of what is now 
 
 S'.tlli- . Ootmu, he rather .sheepishly entered the 
 
 !"ari<"- house * : ;r"ugli a side entrance. It \va>> in the 
 
 !! : ( ' ! ..ernoon .ind *he bright rays of the September 
 
 :'.; vert- shiru^ inio the great hall through the front 
 
 i to see. 
 'nod to him. 
 lender girl. 
 L. door, and 
 d not turi 
 lie a seen d- 
 \'ery pretty 
 ! that 
 th cheek 
 
 s:ure *. 
 
 wr 
 
 neard tin 
 
 "" A 
 A 
 
 t- 
 
 .'/a> i"iK hkr ,i ]>ea' v "i. her while neck . 
 !'(' hut- of her form disci -;:i;iu; throuyii a ch< .in 
 -. li-'U'iiM ; rock of ])ink material were, cui'veii and s:i- 
 
 ;r. te ^rrcoint. !.-} the charm "f tlio un- 
 
 Mad: so ih.it he forgoi [he pique of in-; 
 
 -H5ii!. ann lv_fi off ahu.-.ing ii:.\vard!y the 
 
 -';v>idi'" fl'ie iiii'ian -ci'vani-S who had accom- 
 
 ].ii".;ei! "}"' tin- eapa .'it v of "beaters." i ic useil 
 
 : -a"'" icnl.r \^'t: to look well that ni^ht, la \\asin.-d
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 273 
 
 broadcloth, and he looked spick and span and very 
 manly for a lad in his sixteenth year. At the supper 
 table he made light of his disappointments in the 
 forest ; his mother, as well as his brothers and sis- 
 ters, all younger, were surprised at his cheerful de- 
 meanor, usually so different when his hunting luck 
 was poor. 
 
 He kept casting glances, under his eyelids, at the 
 slim demure girl who waited on the table. The pink 
 dress she wore set off the rose-tint of her cheeks, a 
 color so delicate and shell-like as to suggest to a 
 modern observer some trace of weakness in the 
 throat or lungs. It made him think of the words of 
 the Irish poet, "The rose and the lily were fighting 
 together in her face." Her clear-cut features were 
 accurately proportioned, the curves of her red mouth 
 especally pretty ; her eyes were a violet hue, her 
 lashes were long and black, her brows dark and nicely 
 arched. There was something so muscular and 
 voluptuous about her legs, which showed through her 
 calico dress as she moved about the table. Her hands 
 were white and shapely, hardly the hands of a work- 
 ing girl. The young heir of the manor longed to 
 squee/x' them before the supper was half over, for he 
 was hot-blooded, with all the precocious maturity of 
 the frontier. 
 
 The girl was conscious of his interest in her. for 
 she lowered her eyes whenever he looked at her ; his 
 thought waves were radiating towards her though 
 not a word was said. After supper, by the inglenook,
 
 274 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 the mother mentioned the newcomer to her son. The 
 girl, she said, was a Redemptioner from the Palatine 
 country, whom the young man's father had brought 
 with him from Lanacaster. It seemed foolish to have 
 taken the giri when she had but six months to serve, but 
 she had been highly recommended for her needlework, 
 and being of pleasant appearance the "Colonel," as 
 they called the elder Irvine, had brought her back 
 with him. arriving the day after the lad had started 
 on his hunt. Besides, the mother continued, the girl 
 was anxious to take a place in the interior of the 
 Commonwealth ; she wished to go, when her term ex- 
 pired, to the home of a sister, somewhere in the 
 neighborhood of the new town of Pittsburg. 
 
 But before more was said, the kitchen door opened 
 and the young girl entered, accompanied by an older 
 Palatine woman named Anna, an expired redemption- 
 er who continued to remain with the Irvine family. 
 They took their places by the spinning wheel and 
 loom, and were soon busily employed. The conver- 
 sation lulled after their entrance, and the young man 
 passed the evening gazing into the fire and casting 
 furtive glances at the fair young girl toiling at the 
 wheels. In the course of the evening Colonel Irvine 
 came in; he had been absent on a political mission 
 down to the ''Forks.'' where Huntington Creek and 
 Fishing Creek come together, and flow towards the 
 river as one. 
 
 The veteran of the Indian and Revolutionary wars 
 was pleased to see his son back again, welcoming him
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 275 
 
 \varmly, though he was at most an undemonstrative 
 nature. Soon after his arrival the clock in the far 
 corner of the big room struck ten . It was the signal 
 for the party to disperse. Young Irvine watched the 
 tall, lovely girl as she disappeared into the gloom of 
 the servants' quarters, where she roomed with the old 
 standby, Anna. No one knew her last name. 
 
 "The young girl seems like an apt worker," said 
 the Colonel, as he started up stairs. 
 
 "Yes," said his wife, "she seems quiet and of a bet- 
 ter class than most of her kind I have seen." 
 
 "What is her name?" said the young man impul- 
 sively, forgetting for an instant his studied purpose 
 tr disguise his interest. 
 
 "Mary Casselman," said the Colonel. "At least 
 that's the name she gives. She says that she was 
 taken to Ireland as an infant during the great famine 
 in the Rhine country, and then was forced to leave the 
 Green Isle for the same reason." 
 
 Young Irvine said no more, but hurried to his room 
 before making any more injudicious remarks. All 
 that night he lay awake, his heart and brain throb- 
 bing with new emotion, love, which had suddenly 
 formed itself from the tempest of disjointed and 
 fiery sensations that had been possessing his young 
 self these several years. His anguish cut him like 
 :\ knife; he could not remain in bed. Getting up and 
 dressing he sat in a window seat looking out into 
 the frosty night, composing some crude verses about 
 her, until daylight.
 
 276 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 When he came down stars he saw his Mary putting 
 wood on the fire preparatory to resuming work on 
 the loom. He wished her "good morning" and in- 
 quired if she generally came down stairs so early. 
 She looked away when she answered, coloring as she 
 did so, saying 1 that she had not slept well, that she 
 had gotten up so as to let old Anna have a nap be- 
 fore arising. The boy and girl had a pleasant talk 
 until the old German woman came in, when Mary 
 withdrew to the kitchen to assist, her in preparing 
 breakfast. 
 
 The young man walked out to the barn in the 
 foggy, damp morning air, where he remained until 
 the big bronze bell on the pole by the kitchen door 
 was rung, announcing that breakfast was ready. In 
 the barn among his favorite horses and dogs he re- 
 solved to leave his attachment for the beautiful Re- 
 demptioner as it had begun, subterranean. He loved 
 her, else what was the volcanic emotion that had 
 broken his rest, yet he was too young to think of 
 marriage what would he do with a wife, besides, 
 the girl was several years older than he. No one 
 knew who she was. He, of proud name and lineage, 
 could not wed a servant under any conditions. But 
 he loved her and always would like to have her 
 rear him. Generations of robust blood had given 
 him a strength of character which, added to the self 
 reliance developed on the frontier, made him adamant 
 to possible errors of conduct. 
 
 During the six months that the beautiful and ador-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 277 
 
 rible Mary Casselman remained at "Patterson's 
 Grove," the mansion was named for his mother's 
 family, never by word or sign did young Irvine dis- 
 close the fact of this great attachment to his parents. 
 And never did he let slip a hint of it to the girl. 
 Whenever he could he would sit with her and old 
 Anna in the kitchen, discussing the war, which had 
 just come to a close, the chase and the minor events 
 of the day, but he was always dignified, always re- 
 served, though underneath burning up with love. On 
 a few occasions when, work done, Mary would go 
 for a stroll, he joined her for a short distance, but 
 the conversation was always formal. He was never 
 able to forget the time on Christmas Eve when she 
 stood on chair placing sprigs of coral-colored winter 
 berries ( Ilc.v rcrticillata ) about the frames of his 
 ancestors' portraits in the great hall. Old Anna 
 stood below her with her hand on the back of her skirts 
 lest she lose her balance, uniniten-tionally revealing the 
 pretty lines of her form. He should have stepped 
 forward to help arrange the berries but was losL in 
 loving contemplation. 
 
 ft was late in September when the girl arrived; it 
 was about the middle of March when her terms of 
 service expired, and she came to the young man's 
 mother to discuss her forthcoming departure. It is 
 certain that the good lady was satisfied with the girl's 
 work and demeanor, but something, perhaps a moth- 
 er's intuition, caused her, when the girl asked if her 
 services were required longer, to say, that the period
 
 278 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 having ended, she could go. It was too early in the 
 season to attempt the long journey across the moun- 
 tains to Fort Pitt ; there was no place to go but to 
 the home of a friend in the neighborhood of Derrs- 
 town, also a former Redemptioner, who had recently 
 married a wealthy inn-keeper. She would help 
 with the work there until warm weather set in, then 
 make her way as best she could to the West. The 
 day of her departure was memorable. Old Anna 
 borrowed the family horse and riding astride like a 
 man, she looked like one with her short hair, with 
 the fair Mary perched on behind, holding on with 
 her slender smooth arms around her burly waist, 
 started across the Huntington Mountains, by way 
 of Jonestown Gap, to the river where a raft or flat- 
 boat would convey her to Fort Augusta. She was 
 to be met at the fort by her friend from Derrstown. 
 
 Young Irvine, maintained his composure admirably, 
 ?i least outwardly, but he longed to be going with 
 the lovely girl to a happier life beyond the mountains. 
 That night he sat up writing an account of his ro- 
 mance in an ancient leather-bound account book, and 
 transcribing the many sheets of verses that he had 
 composed about her; if he could tell it to no one 
 he would pour out his heart on vellum. 
 
 When old Anna returned the next evening, he sat 
 with her until midnight by the kitchen fire, listening 
 to her extoll the charms of the departed girl, while 
 ttars ran down her coarse, masculine face. They 
 bad been so cozy together as room-mates, she said,
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 279 
 
 just like husband and wife, and would miss her so 
 much. Now that she was gone, Irvine realized the 
 enormity of his loss. It was terrible to suppress an 
 emotion that was greater than existence, just to 
 live up to an honored name, a phrase unrecorded in 
 the dictionary of passion. Outwardly he was calm, 
 r.nd with his parents cheerful, but inwardly he 
 grieved and groaned with a fast sinking spirit. But 
 he bore up. just as many, many people bear this and 
 far worse trials, feeling that it was all for the best, 
 i'lid that he would be rewarded for his abnegation 
 some day. During the month of August a letter 
 arrived, penned with great precision and care, it was 
 c.ddressed to his mother, from Mary Casselman. 
 
 ISriefly she said that she was ready to start for her 
 sister's home near Pittsburg. but as she had enjoyed 
 her stay at "Patterson's drove" so much it was like 
 ''home," she wanted to know if her services could 
 be again utilized, she would work for her clothes and 
 do anything, if only she could come back. The moth- 
 er showed it to her son, who longed to say, "let her 
 return," but he held his tongue, while his heart beat 
 fast as she deliberated, finally deciding to write that 
 there was no place open for her. 
 
 "\Ye have enough in the household, five Indians, 
 old Anna and seven of ourselves; there would not be 
 enough to do to keep her busy.'' 
 
 This final decision was heartbreaking to the youth. 
 Then and there he resolved to visit his love before 
 she started on the long journey to the country be-
 
 280 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 yonci the Alleghenies. But before he could think out 
 ?. plan to absent himself for so long a time, old Anna 
 received a letter from the girl, inviting her to come 
 to Derrstown on a visit, which she accepted by 
 promptly starting away on foot to the river. The 
 young man was forced to postpone his trip until the 
 v/oman's return, as otherwise she might report to 
 his parents of his whereabouts. Weeks passed, then 
 came a letter written by a professional scrivener and 
 signed by Anna's mark. In a word it said that she 
 \\as not coming back, yet no reasons were given. 
 Young Irvine gave up all idea of a trip, and forced 
 himself back into the old routine of life. 
 
 Months and years slipped by. He went to school 
 in Philadelphia and to college in New Jersey. He 
 saw many charming women, but his heart maintained 
 one image, that of Mary Casselman, the Redemp- 
 tioner. He hoped that each year would make the 
 presence less, but it only grew stronger with increas- 
 ing maturity. Finally after graduation from college, 
 on his way back to his parental home, he decided to 
 ride to Derrstown and find out where Mary was, to 
 ?ee her again, if nothing more. It was easy to locate 
 Aaron Shreckengast's big stone tavern on the Pike 
 near the present village of Lochiel. To his surprise, 
 a< he rode up he saw old Anna in the yard ; would 
 the next step reveal Mary herself? 
 
 "Where is Mary?" he asked, breathlessly, even 
 omitting greetings, before he even dismounted from 
 his noise.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 281 
 
 Tears came to the aged woman's eyes. "She's 
 not here, Master Patterson, she was a darling," she 
 faltered . "She started the Christmas after I came 
 here for Pittsburg; she went with a big emigrant 
 train, but we have never heard from her since. I 
 always hoped it, now I am sure that you loved her, 
 and would come for her when you were of age, but 
 I am afraid that it is too late." Then the old woman 
 wept as if her heart would break. 
 
 XYhile they were talking Shreckengast's wife, 
 Mary's old friend, came out of the front door. She 
 v as quite pretty, very dark and slight, with very 
 large round black eyes. Evidently she had heard 
 the conversation, for she said : "\Ye have written 
 many letters, and sent many inquiries, but all is a 
 blank. Mary vanished from us with that trip West." 
 
 Shreckengast himself, a man much older than his 
 \vinsome wife, joined in the talk, reiterating what had 
 been said concerning the girl's disappearance. They 
 asked the young man to stay for supper and spend 
 the night, which he did. All the while he was there 
 he eneadoved to mid a clue to his beloved's where- 
 abouts. Yet he was happier than in years that night 
 to sleep under the roof that had sheltered his darling. 
 And old Anna, to pay a delicate compliment, put him 
 in the room which Mary had occupied. 
 
 His time was limited. After making many futile 
 inquiries in Derrstown, even interrogating the young- 
 er Lewis Derr himself, he rode away sadly to the 
 seclusion of Patterson's Grove. More months and
 
 282 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 years slipped by again. Patterson Irvine was a man 
 of consequence in the community, his name bid fair 
 to become of state-wide importance. He could win 
 success in any field, but what did it mean when he 
 suffered so acutely from a heart's emptiness. He 
 could not love, yet he must live on, singularly alone 
 and inwardly sad. He could not care for any other 
 woman ; with every woman he met soon came quick 
 satiety and the ever-burning presence of Mary Cas- 
 selman. Yet from a spoiled son of weathy parents, 
 his character had broadened and humanized ; he had 
 been born anew by this doleful romance. 
 
 Ten years after his visit to Derrstown he resolved 
 to visit Pittsburg and find the girl if she lived, and 
 marry her. He could stand the torture no longer ; 
 there was no compromise. He had written to Shreck- 
 engast's young wife several times in the interval, 
 but there was always the same response, "no news." 
 He would marry his Alary and bring her to a new 
 stone house which he had lately constructed on the 
 edge of a rolling meadow, overlooking the winding, 
 shaded banks of Kitchen Creek. He would confess 
 all to his parents, they would love his bride and ad- 
 mire his steadfastness, when they knew all. But 
 he would say nothing until he returned with her, lest 
 he not find her. His heart sank when he thought of 
 such a horror, but it was possible ! She might be 
 married to someone else, possibly a Dutch clod like 
 Shreckengast. 
 
 His parents were old and growing feeble, their
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 283 
 
 daughters had married and lived in distant parts of 
 the State ; it might be that the homecoming of the 
 sweet and loving- Mary would prove a blessing in 
 disguise. The young man knew an officer, Major 
 McKnight, high in the military administration of the 
 Pittsburg district, who ought to locate the girl's 
 whereabouts ; it should not be a difficult task in that 
 thinly settled region . He started away one bright 
 morning in September the fifteenth anniversary of 
 his first glimpse of Mary, sewing in the hall. He 
 was well mounted on a big bay horse and accom- 
 panied by one of his faithful Indian servants. He 
 left word that a light should be kept burning every 
 night in the living room, which faced down the Valley. 
 They reached Derrstown the first night, remaining 
 at the Shreckengast home. There he learned of old 
 Anna's death ; she had passed away hoping that the 
 "young lord." as she called him, and Mary could meet 
 and be happy. With Mary's friend, who suspected 
 the true state of affairs, he sat by the fire until past 
 midnight, discussing her disappearance and the 
 chances of finding her again. He learned some inter- 
 esting things which made his heart beat faster. It 
 appeared that even after receiving the letter from 
 his mother, rejecting her offer of service, which de- 
 pressed her greatly, she could not bring herself to 
 depart for the West. Yet despiite his closest question- 
 ing he could not learn if old Anna had ever said that 
 Mary loved him. One morning she had ridden to 
 Derrstown to mail some letters, and when she re-
 
 284 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 turned informed them that she had met a party 
 of released Redemptioners bound for the West; she 
 had crossed the ocean with one of them the year pre- 
 ciously, it would be a splendid opportunity to make her 
 journey to Pittsburg in good, safe company. She gath- 
 ered together -her scanty belongings and, accompanied 
 by old Anna, rode back to town, where she bid the 
 aged woman farewell at the "Harp and Crown" inn 
 where the fleet of Conestoga wagons were parked. 
 She promised to write as soon as she reached her 
 destination, but not a word was ever heard from 
 her. Perhaps the caravan had been ambushed by 
 Indians and winsome Mary carried off, but such 
 occurrences were rare nowadays ; it would surely be 
 icported. 
 
 From Derrstown Irvine rode to the Big Spring, 
 now Hellefonte, thence to Tyrone, and across the 
 mountains to Fort Bedford, to the pike, now the Lin- 
 coln Highway, which he followed to Pittsburg. He 
 stopped at the pioneer church near Schellsburg, 
 on the pike, the door of which is always open 
 to travelers, and prayed for the success of his 
 quest. He called at the home of Major McKnight, 
 who received him cordially, and invited him to remain 
 at his home. In the library that night he explained 
 hts mission. The officer was interested and very sym- 
 pathetic, mentioning the well-known marriage of the 
 famous lawyer, Hugh H. Brackenridge, to the Ger- 
 man girl, Sabina \Yolfe. There were two or three 
 Casselman families in that region, he said, some of
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 285 
 
 whom had won renown as Indian fighters ; they were 
 IT en of property and generally respected ; they might 
 lie of kin to the missing girl. A close friend of one 
 of them lived at the next house to where the officer 
 resided ; he would be able to clear up everything. It 
 was not late so they took their hats and gloves and 
 hurried up the shady walk to the home of the neigh- 
 bor in question. Captain Adam Showalter. They 
 were, of course, pleasantly received by him, especially 
 a.'- he proved to be like Irvine's father, a veteran of 
 the Indian wars. He knew all the members of the 
 various Casselman families. Mary Casselman had 
 arrived with a caravan from the East about fifteen 
 'years before, to live with her sister, Mrs. Jacob 
 \Yingard. of Beck's Run. She had not remained long, 
 rot a week, until she became engaged to one of the 
 party who had come with her, a young Irishman 
 named Joe Ouinn. She had met him the year be- 
 fore, having crossed the ocean in a party of Re- 
 demptioners, of which he had been a member. 
 
 William Irvine looked into the fire. Even the soft 
 glow of the blazing beechvvood could not disguise his 
 sudden pallor. Showalter said that Joe Ouinn was 
 a pretty good sort of fellow, a big, rough, hard work- 
 er with a heart of gold ; he had cleared up a nice farm 
 on a branch of Grave Creek and had started ito build 
 a home. Mary was very pretty to look at, could read 
 and write, a very rare thing for a Redemptioner. Her 
 manners were refined, the best class of people liked 
 her. but her health was always poor, she had been
 
 286 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 treated by doctors in Pittsburg and Indians, but she 
 never grew any better. At last, after a year, despair- 
 ing as to her health, relatives and friends decided 
 to take her to the highlands of Eastern Kentucky, 
 which was said to be a very salubrious climate. The 
 farm had been sold and, packing their goods with them, 
 they I'.'id departed for the \ve-t conr <~\. That was 
 the last that had been heard of any of them. It was 
 not unusual, as the west was a big place, communica- 
 tion was slow. 
 
 Every word from the well-informed Captain 
 Showalter was a body-blow to the lover and his hopes. 
 But he pulled himself together, saying in as nonchal- 
 ant manner as he could assume, that he was a little 
 interested in the young woman for his mother's sake, 
 as she had served in their household and very faith- 
 fully, some years previously. 
 
 Stung with sorrow and secret mortification, he 
 walked back in silence with the Major tc that gentle- 
 man's residence. ITis sorrow was deep, for he had 
 loved and lost, but he had doubly lost because there 
 had also perished his sense of secret gratification, the 
 long cherished belief that Alary had cared for him, 
 that owing to his superior birth, he had let her go out 
 of his life to wander about the world in an unsatisfied 
 loneliness. He spent a restless night, pursued by ugly 
 dreams and uglier waking fancies. Sometimes he 
 vowed that in the morning he would ride over to 
 lieck's Run for just one look at the house where she 
 had lived, to look at the scenes familiar to her eyes.
 
 1 * 
 
 i 
 
 { Schellsburg Church, Built 1 
 1806 Chestnut Ridge, 
 from Lincoln Highway [ 
 
 *
 
 MOU NTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ii I 1 ; :i :i>iirq am! Indians br.t S!K- 
 
 lt<-; At last after a year, de-pair- 
 
 1 h, ivla'UT.-- ;i:ul friends decided 
 
 highland- of F.a-tt.-rn Keiuiucky. 
 
 l.v a ver 1 -- .^ahiiorious cliniaK;. ''Pic 
 
 and. 'Backing ti'ieir '^o f .><'-- \viih tbci", 
 
 t';i TIU '\. T --t -Tint .'v Thai 'A as 
 ''t:M lican' of an\ of :.]K-MI. It \va> 
 
 ! jiioa 
 
 1 - i'V 
 
 iH iuniwHD B08I 
 
 Id an 
 
 nlooni J
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 287 
 
 to walk on ground her feet ha'd trod. When he got 
 up his determination was firm to add no further 
 chapters to his ''sentimental journey." She must have 
 loved Quinn, he reasoned all along; he had meant 
 nothing 'to her, else she would have ait least tried to 
 keep alive her unfulfilled hopes by writing to him. 
 
 But all speculation was useless. Mary was dead or 
 married, gone; there was nothing to do but to return 
 home. In the foggy, damp half-light the horses were 
 brought ito the door and the thoroughly disheartened 
 young man, accompanied by his Indian retainer, start- 
 ed for the distant North Mountain country. It was a 
 sad and tedious journey, and he pondered for several 
 hours at Point Lookout, gazing towards the west, the 
 last home of his beloved When he reached "Patter- 
 son's Grove'' he braced himself so that his parents 
 never suspected the soul-shock that he had exper- 
 ienced. But spiritually he was again a changed man, 
 though it never affected his wordly career. He be- 
 came still better known as a large land owner, lum- 
 ber operator and in politics. Some wondered why one 
 with such good health and good nature and such a 
 winning presence elected to live alone, that was all. 
 
 Every night the light burned in his window in the 
 old Manor House, which looked down the creek, and 
 it was extinguished on the evening of his death be- 
 cause he was too feeble to get up and shut out the gale 
 which threatened it. 
 
 But the same gale which extinguished the lamp car- 
 ried his released spirit to a land where lights and 
 beacons are not needed to reveal die power of love.
 
 XXI. The North Bastion 
 
 OF the exact date of the construction of Forbes' 51 
 Fort, east of Stoyestown, little is known. It 
 is generally supposed that it was put up some 
 time during 1757, as it has been described by military 
 observers arid chroniclers under date of the year fol- 
 lowing, the immortal year of the fall of Fort Duquesne. 
 It was considered to be in an admirable strategic posi- 
 tion on Breastwork Run, which the venerable his- 
 torian, George W. Grove, tells us is one of die sources 
 of the Juniata River and in close proximity to two In- 
 dian trails. 
 
 As an engineering feat Forbes's Fort was considered 
 admirable for its day and generation. The eminent 
 German engineer, Jacob Rutzer, who designed Fort 
 Pitt, had learned the science of fortification under 
 Frederick the Great before entering the British service, 
 and he was said to have drawn the original plans of 
 this fort. Among those in charge of the con- 
 struction on the ground was Gottfried Griesen- 
 kampf, a man of considerable education and en- 
 gineering ability. lie was known a? "Captain" 
 Griesenkampf , but his military title was purely one 
 of courtesy order, as he was in reality but foreman 
 of the works. He was a hard taskmaster, yet had the 
 knack of finding a force of men to do the work with- 
 out detaining any of the military who were much 
 needed elsewhere. Ho got togther a number of In- 
 dians of various kinds, Catawabas, Cherokees, 
 
 288
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 289 
 
 Shawnees, Tuscaroras, Lenni Lannpes and Senecas, 
 also Germans, Irishmen, Frenchmen two Spaniards 
 from the Minisink. and some of the first gypsies to 
 penetrate into the interior were also pressed into 
 service. 
 
 When Colonel the Honorable Archie Montgomery, of 
 the Seaforth Highlanders, and Inspector of General 
 Forbes" expeditionary forces, first visited the structure 
 it was not completed, but the medley of workers made 
 him remark to his Aide, Captain .Sir Allen M'a'cLean, 
 that instead of a fort he believed that a modern replica 
 of the Tower of Babel was being erected. Colonel the 
 Honorable Montgomery was a superb looking young 
 Scotchman, who keenly enjoyed his experiences on 
 the frontier, and was of inestimable value in keeping 
 up die general morale of the forces through the means 
 of the externals. He was a stickler for good ord- 
 nance, for a uniform appearance of the men, decent 
 surroundings, good food and all that went to hold 
 up the esprit de corps. History tells little of hi* 
 services, btiit they were many for the cause he rep- 
 resented. 
 
 At the time of his first visit "Captain" Griesenkampf 
 was in charge of the workers, and was living in the 
 North Bastion, which was entirely completed. He 
 asked the young Highland officer to occupy this apart- 
 ment during his sojourn, but he declined as Jack Mil- 
 ler, a pioneer who lived nearby, had told him that 
 Griesenkampf 's wife had recently arrived, and he 
 would not deprive a lady of comforts. Besides Mil-
 
 290 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 ler's home suited better, being conveniently situated 
 on the river bank, with large connecting rooms, each 
 with a fireplace, in which the Honorable Colonel and 
 his Aide could live with all the comforts of bachelor 
 quarters in London. It was not until his last day at the 
 fort that the Colonel caught a glimpse of Mrs. Captain 
 Griesenkampf, as she was called. Miller had said 
 diat she was an uncommonly pretty young woman, 
 and could not understand why she had married a 
 man of forty-five like the Captain, a fellow of 
 Prussian brusqueness and lack of human sympathy. 
 Miller, who was born in Holland, and had roamed all 
 over the world before coming to America;, was a very 
 shrewd judge of character and despised Griesenkampf 
 as a man. while admiring his capabilities as an engi- 
 neer. "As a man he is one of the rottenest creatures T 
 ever came across," he said to the Colonel, ''but he does 
 his work well, so as a machine I will say he is all that 
 can 1)e expected of him." 
 
 As to his wife's nationality, he was uncertain, but 
 one of the Gypsies working on the fort declared that 
 she was a Romany Princess, that he had known her 
 in Germany, and had carried on a conversation with 
 her in the Gypsy tongue while plastering her new 
 apartment in the Pepper Box Tower of the Bastion. 
 She was said to be an excellent linguist, and could play 
 the violin very well, as well as paint pictures, all of 
 which accomplishments made the Colonel and his Aide 
 very anxious to meet her. Miller said that the Captain 
 was evidently mistrustful of her, as he always kqot her
 
 Interior of Ancient 
 
 j 
 
 Schellsburg I 
 
 1 
 
 Church |
 
 290 
 
 *OUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 !ei s 'in ;)!<;: --Liked hc-.er. being conveniently situated 
 on t'~v nviT bank, with large connecting rooms, each 
 v.-ith .1 h. --.-'place, in which the Honorable Colonel and 
 h..'- tr' could iJv-r with all the comfort,-* of bachelor 
 
 .r icrs ui Lo-idon. i.t was not until his la.-t day at the 
 r.-:. d, .{ the Cl'~ne! caught a glimpse of Airs. Captain 
 1 '. :csenkanipf , ,:> -die >vas called. Miller had said 
 
 ,t -:he \ : . ;m uncommonly prertv yon.ng u r oman, 
 
 .,i).! CLi-I-i M.. mi-lersiru: 1 \vhv slu- had married a 
 
 j ;ars os' ; M X - i\'0 like the Cnpta-.n. :-. fellow of 
 
 i. r 'y '" i." ii'"-. "Mi"?' t',. I 1 , i'."- "ld"'l: 't sympathy. 
 
 \v;-- :ior-i in Mollanc!, and ha>i 
 JnaionA lo johsinl , 
 
 : or . iiavacter and despised (.\\ 
 
 . 
 . so a - a ria 
 
 he rotten-;s 
 
 roamed all 
 
 was a \ ci y 
 iesenkatirpf 
 as an en.id- 
 creatures ! 
 nit h-.' does 
 ^1 :- all that 
 
 fe'- nationalit), he \va- inicen:a:n. hut 
 
 >ies \\-orkini; on the i ? ": dec!a.;'C.'i that 
 
 ir,iv j'rimv .-:. thar Vie ha-: kno\vn he;' 
 
 ! iia i c \rrif-d on a conversation with 
 
 -v tono'iie, \vlvth. 1 ;i!a-*eri:!i; her new 
 
 ;e ! fp; i er i.'-jx To.ver rif v lie l>astion. 
 
 !</ an '; \(.clleii'! l"i]^i!'s' ,t.ini could j'Viy 
 
 .'.e!i -.r- ived a-, parn p:cturi: ; . , ail nf 
 
 -i r.Ttits n.:--,de -1 r Colorel and ; ii^ Aide 
 
 rice; iic r "i ; i!l<;" -.aid thai ih^ C'aptain 
 
 "ii;- 1 . 1 " ! ')' her. a- :e alwav, kei't her
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 291 
 
 within the siockade ; she had seen nothing of the coun- 
 try and had met no one since her arrival from Carlisle. 
 The thought of a woman of mystery, held in the fort, 
 perhaps under duress, further interested the officers, 
 and the\' wondered why they had never met lier, or 
 heard the Captain mention her existence. 
 
 That afternoon, after dinner, as they were strolling 
 from Miller's house towards the fort they met 
 the Captain, superintending the completion of the 
 moat. lie left the band of grimy workers and ap- 
 proached the officers very deferentially. "Gentlemen," 
 he said, ''] understand that it is your pleasure to leave 
 here tomorrow, and that being the case I feel that 
 I should try to show you some hospitality beyond 
 the merely military courtesies. My quarters are tem- 
 porary and not exactly comfortable, but I would feel 
 honored if you would both have supper in the North 
 Hastion at half after six, and meet Madame Griesen- 
 kampf.'' The officers accepted with alacrity, and the 
 engineer beamed all over at the compliment bestowed 
 on him Ruffian that he was, he liked to be known as 
 the friend of high-ranking officers, and Colonel the 
 Honorable Archie Montgomery and Captain Sir Allen 
 MacLean were among the very elite of the splendid 
 personnel comprising General Forbes' expedition. 
 
 The young officers continued their walk, discussing 
 the adventure that awaited them, as neither of them 
 saw beauty in Indian girls, and had not looked into 
 wl.at they called a pretty face since they left Carlisle. 
 \Yould the Captain's wife prove to be a lady, or some
 
 292 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 wild creature he had picked up in a gutter; was she 
 really as good looking as Miller described her 
 all these topics kept up their interests as they con- 
 tinued their walk among the forests which overlooked 
 the blue waters of the Breastwork Branch. The very 
 thought of meeting and talking to a white woman 
 stimulated their imaginations, as they were hungry 
 for feminine society, and the ignorance and shallow- 
 ness of the Indian girls made them look on such 
 females as travesties of the sex. As supper time ap- 
 proached .they shaved, adjusted their uniforms, com- 
 mented on one another's appearance, and sticks in 
 hand strolled in dignified manner towards the bar- 
 bacan of the fort. At the porta'l Captain Griesen- 
 kampf's German servant or orderly met them and 
 escorted them to the newly completed North Bastion. 
 The wily engineer had surely fixed himself up nicelv 
 At a knock from the factotum the heavy oaken door 
 was opened by another servant within, and the two 
 young officers entered. 
 
 A fire was burning in a well built stone chimney, 
 before which the ponderous German was standing, 
 clad in a military coat with hands folded behind his 
 back after the manner of Frederick the Great. The 
 wife was seated on a chair by the fire, and rose to 
 greet the guests. She was much prettier and more 
 refined looking than the officers were prepared for. 
 In her rose cglored colonial gown her youthful form 
 showed oft ito advantage, her rather narrow face was 
 crowned by a mass of crisp, curly da'rk hair and had a
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 293 
 
 very sorrowful expression. The slight duskiness to 
 her complexion alone betokened 'any possible Gypsy 
 origin. She was a charming looking woman, but older 
 than the officers had expected, being at least thirty, 
 they thought, but diat was much younger than her 
 husband, who was probably forty-five "if he was a 
 day." After a few minutes conversation the servant 
 announced that the meal was in readiness and every- 
 thing progressed very pleasantly until the German 
 began to show the effects of too much rum. He now 
 became ugly and sarcastic, and began accusing his 
 wife of lack of dignity in talking on a sand heap for 
 half an hour with a Gypsy navvy. ''I see no harm in 
 it." protested the wife, "to >talk to a fellow who said 
 he was a retainer of my lamented father at Lichteri- 
 berg. I did not recall him, I have been away from 
 home so long, and I tried to make out that he did not 
 know me. until he said 'Tit lial rom me horn, rakkcr 
 aschat sclwpciii!.'' (Thou art a 1 Gypsy, I am a Gypsy, 
 speak the truth.") At these words the Captain flew 
 into a rage. "That fellow insulted you, he questioned 
 your veracity ; how dare you take such impudence un- 
 challenged?" 
 
 From that time on the evening went from bad to 
 worse, until the Highlanders forgot about being in 
 the company of a very pretty woman and were glad 
 do get away. Before they left the Captain, as if try- 
 ing to make amends, showed them the construction 
 of the bastion, including a covered passageway of 
 masonry which led from a trap-door to the edge of
 
 294 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 the Breastwork Run that fed die moat and in turn 
 emptied into the Juniata, which would furnish the fort 
 with water during a possible siege. But the officers 
 were not interested and hurried away. The German 
 orderly escorted them to the portal, shutting the gate 
 after them ; they felt free at last. 
 
 As ithey almost raced down the hill towards their 
 quarters they kept swearing under their breaths, but 
 did not explode until they were indoors at 
 Miller's. Then they denounced the brutish German 
 to themselves and to their host, and expressed a deep 
 pity for such a gentlewoman itied to such an unman- 
 nerly tyrant. Miller said, thac his heart bled 
 for "Madame Captain," but what could he do! The 
 next day they departed to continue their inspection 
 of other fortifications and garrisons, eventually re- 
 turning to Carlisle to report to General Forbes. 
 
 Over a year had passed until Colonel the Honor- 
 able Archie Momrogmery again approached the bar- 
 bacan of Forbes's Fort. This time at the head of a 
 detachment of Highlanders he was to inspect the 
 home guard prior to the arrival of the main forces 
 of General Forbes, Colonel Bouquet and Colonel 
 Washington en route to Fort Duquesne. A confer- 
 ence was to be held there between the above named 
 officers and Colonel Armstrong and Colonel Burd. 
 and the final plan of the campaign laid out. It was 
 in the chill of a November dusk, it might have been 
 All Soul's night, k had rained and sleeted, and the 
 east wind had been cutting like a knife all day long.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 295 
 
 Colonel Montgomery sat on his horse chilled stiff, 
 and so overcome with fatigue that he held his seat 
 mechanically. The men were mired and footsore and 
 nervously upset, and the opening of t>he big log gates, 
 showing camp-fires within the stockade cheered their 
 jaded hearts that they broke out with a shout of joy. 
 
 Captain Griesenkampf had finished his construction 
 work long ago and returned to Philadelphia, and Cap- 
 tain Mac Lachlan. the Adjutant of the fort who met 
 the Colonel with military honors, suggested that he 
 occupy for the night -the Pepper Box Tower of the 
 Xorth I.'.astion, as the most habitable quarters avail- 
 able. "The Dutchman," he whispered, "fixed up a very 
 nice place for himself and lad}- and 1 can promise you 
 a good night's rest there. 1 am reserving the lower 
 apartment for General Forbes to hold his officers 
 meeting in, it is so spacious." The Colonel recollected 
 that apartment well, though he cherished no pleasant 
 memories of the uncivil evening he had spent in it. 
 
 Everything had been prepared in advance for his 
 entertainment. A cheery fire was blazing on the 
 hearth, a good supper with a bottle of French wine 
 was on the table, a large bed was spread. He was 
 waited on by his own orderly and one of the local 
 soldiers, and after the meal was finished he asked 
 to be left alone, that he felt tired after the long ride 
 from Fon Littleton. He blew out the rushlight on 
 the bedstead and undressed by the ruddy glow from 
 the hearth, which threw all manner of fantastic 
 shadows on the plastered walls. He got into bed, but
 
 296 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 was so stiff and overly-tired that it was a long time 
 before he fell asleep. 
 
 He was awakened after a short nap about midnight 
 by the sound of footsteps on the stone floor of the 
 apartment. The fire was still going and the room 
 was light. Looking out from the mas? of feathe r 
 quilts he saw the figure of Captain Griesenkampf's 
 wife, attired in the rose-colored gown, but with the 
 pallor of a dead person in her face. On her throat 
 w 7 ere several deep, dark marks, as if made by pres- 
 sure from a man's fingers. She kept looking at him, 
 and crossing and recrossing the room, pointing 
 at the doorway which led down to the moat. He 
 watched her intently but made no move to get out of 
 bed. Finally, with a look of despair the apparition 
 came to his bedside and pointed across to the door- 
 way in the floor, then walked to it, still pointing. 
 
 Colonel the Honorable Archie Montgomery had 
 come from a land of ghosts, and knew how to treat 
 them, only it was a cold night and he did not relish 
 getting out of his warm bed, even to please a pretty 
 woman. However, rather than cause her anguish he 
 crawled out, and in his stocking feet followed her to 
 the hattchway. He looked at it steadily, then nodded 
 his head to her ; he knew enough not to speak, as he 
 did not want to "lay" her, f.he was too pretty a ghost 
 to annihilate. Something like a smile overspread the 
 \van features of the apparition, and as he turned to 
 go back to bed she disappeared amid the lights and 
 shadows thrown out from the dying fire. After
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 297 
 
 that the Colonel fell asleep again and woke in good 
 time, and feeling refreshed as well. 
 
 Captain MacLachlan was eariy in attendance. 
 The Colonel asked him what had become of Griesen- 
 kampf's wife, she seemed like an attractive person. 
 "Haven't you heard," said the Adjutant, in surprised 
 tones. "She became infatuated with a Gypsy man, 
 whom she had known in Germany, and ran away 
 with him." 
 
 "1 think differently," replied the Colonel, and he 
 told his brother Highlander the sitory of the visitation. 
 "My opinion is," he said, "that the ugly brute during 
 a quarrel strangled her and threw her body into the 
 moat where it drifted off into the Junhta; she was 
 no woman to decamp with a low Gypsy." 
 
 The Adjutant allowed that what the Colonel stated 
 was doubtless the proper explanation of the affair, 
 that he knew the Captain's wife to be a woman of re- 
 finement, and was for dragging the moat. 
 
 "It will do no good," re plied the Colonel. "I will 
 have Griesenkampf apprehended and forced to con- 
 fess his black deed. We will let his poor wife's body 
 rest where it is, if iit should by any chance remain in 
 the moat." 
 
 A few weeks later General Forbes, with Colonel 
 Bouquet and Colonel Washington, and an army of 
 seven thousand men, arrived at the fort, en route for 
 the \ves>:. It was in the ground floor apartment in the 
 North Bastion that the famous conference between 
 the General, with Bouquet and Washington, and Col-
 
 298 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 onels Armsrong and Burd, was held, Colonel the Hon- 
 orable Montgomery also being present. It was at this 
 conference, which lasted past the midnight hour, that 
 Colonel Washington urged that they should profit by 
 General Bra'ddock's defeat three years before and 
 adopt the Indian method of warfare. His idea was 
 unanimously approved, with the result that alfter sev- 
 eral preliminary skirmishes the French and Indians 
 abandoned Duquesne, leaving for the victors as one 
 historian has 'stated "only the name and the fort." 
 
 While the impressive conference was at its height 
 Colonel the Honorable Montgomery noticed the rose- 
 clad figure of the German Captain's wife standing in 
 a dark corner by the fireplace. She was pointing to- 
 wards a small doorway which led down to the moat. 
 Catching her eye he nodded and signaled that he had 
 not forgotten her request, and she with a smile on 
 her face faded out into the gloom. None of the other 
 leaders present suspected that they had entertained a 
 shadowy visitant, though ghosts may lurk about many 
 of our councils, though we do not see them. 
 
 This time Colonel Montgomery acted promptly, 
 sending a dispatch rider to Philadelphia to have 
 Griesenkampf placed under arrest pending informa- 
 tion he would forward. The only report that he was 
 able to get on the case was that 'the fellow had in 
 some manner been released from his semi-military 
 duties, and taken ship for Europe. Perhaps the un- 
 quiet spirit of his slain wife had visited him, and 
 lie had felt that die only course of safety lay in flight.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 299 
 
 Some of the older residents of Somerset County tell 
 of the finding of a female skeleton when leveling part 
 of the earthworks and moat at the ruins of Forbes's 
 Fort and how, after a futile effort to learn the identity, 
 the bones were given decent burial in the Miller ceme- 
 tery, now mostly overgrown with trees. 
 
 Whether the lovely ghost appeared to others, tradi- 
 tion does not record, but it is to be hoped that ven- 
 geance followed her foul spouse, who not alone mur- 
 dered her, but sought to blacken her fair name as well, 
 and left her body to moulder in the slimy waters of 
 the moat.
 
 XXII. The Hunter's Moon 
 
 THE young wife of Josephus Van Lierla was sit- 
 ting in her kitchen window in Path Valley watch- 
 ing the last patches of rosy light disappear behind 
 the rocky and pine-topped summits of the Tuscarora 
 Mountains. She sat there, her hand resting on her chin, 
 and in an abstrcted mood, until the Hunter's Moon, red 
 as flame, "the moon of blood and passion," as the In- 
 dians called it, rose clear above the wild and rugged 
 landscape. She was trying with her unschooled mind to 
 reason out many things, chief of which was why her 
 husband preferred the cold and gloomy hunting shack 
 over there in Aughwick to the comforts and warmth 
 of his own fireside. Hunting was all right, as game was 
 plentiful, and bear meat and venison varied the larder, 
 but he had killed so many animals, thousands during 
 his short life, that it must pall on him after a while. 
 Thus far he had shown no signs of weariness, but 
 never missed a chance to hunt, and especially during 
 the life of the Hunter's Moon, the lurid moon of blood 
 and passion. She had tried to make his home com- 
 fortable in every way, and been a good wife to him 
 from the start, but he was always prone to wander, 
 and nothing could satisfy him. What could she do to 
 keep him at home? There her untrained faculties 
 balked at the solution. Of course she could go with 
 him to his hunting shanty and be his cook and helper, 
 but he always declined her offers, saying that it was 
 no place for a woman, just one small room with a 
 
 300
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 301 
 
 bunk against the wall, and always smelling of blood 
 and bides and entrails. He bad painted such a horrid 
 picture that she had never even once visited the place 
 near the warm spring in the very depths of Aughwick. 
 She was pondering, and unfruitfully, when she saw 
 a tall, erect figure come through the gate and approach 
 the kitchen door. She had the door open before he had 
 time to knock, as she recognized the visitor, old Indian 
 Isaac. This redman was the last of his race to remain 
 permanently in Path Valley ; he was a familiar figure 
 at all the farmhouses, at harvest and butchering times, 
 and possessed a wealth of legendary and historic lore. 
 In the old days he brought many scalps to Fort Little- 
 ton, and was held high in the confidence of the gov- 
 ernment representatives. Well over eighty years of 
 age, his carriage was so erect and graceful that if a 
 stranger saw him in the dusk without noticing his face 
 be could pass easily for a young man. His face was 
 seamed with a thousand wrinkles, but his little black 
 eyes were as keen and penetrating as when he was on 
 the war path once half a century before. He was 
 man-of -all- work for the farmers in the valley, not 
 because he liked it, but he had to support himself to 
 remain, as the game was too scarce for his way of 
 thinking. While the white hunters favored ring 
 hunts, bounties, and firing the woods to reduce the 
 amount of wild life, Indian Isaac bemoaned the scar- 
 city as compared to the days of his youth, when even 
 the lordly bison had passed up and down the Tuscarora 
 Path.
 
 302 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 The old aborigine noted the worried, careworn face 
 of Josephus Van Lierla's young wife, and asked her if 
 there was anything he might do for her. The young 
 woman looked at him a while in silence, as if wishing 
 to confide something, yet pride was withholding it. 
 In turn the red man looked at her, observing that 
 despite her brown hair and blue eyes there was some- 
 thing of the Indian cast of features about her the 
 high cheek bones, the deep eyesockets, the yellow dusk- 
 iness of her complexion, the tendency to be "raw- 
 bone" in her general conformation. For that reason 
 he felt more strongly drawn to her, as he knew that 
 Indian blood was ever a surging misfit that could never 
 fuse in the veins of most white people. At last the 
 hidden spring of sympathy between the girl and the 
 old redman seemed to coalesce, and she opened out 
 her heart to him. She explained how lonely she felt, 
 that after the most earnest efforts to make her hus- 
 band comfortable and happy, he preferred his hunting 
 shack in the Aughwick Valley, where he would re- 
 main for weeks at a time, and always during the moon 
 now at the zenith, the Hunter's Moon: She had won- 
 dered why this particular moon always attracted him 
 so much, to which he replied that game was more plen- 
 tiful which statement she doubted. Was there any 
 way to get him home and make him stay? If she was 
 at fault she would gladly mend her ways ; yet to the 
 best of her recollection she had always been a hard- 
 working, devoted and patient wife. Tears stood out in 
 her deep-set blue eyes when she finished ; there was
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 303 
 
 conviction in the very tones of her voice. The 
 Indian was deeply impressed by her remarks, and 
 replied that while he dreaded to give her pain, 
 it was his policy always to .(tell the truth; it would 
 be best to hear it hear it first as last, as despite 
 its unpleasantness it contained the cure. The 
 wife was very much interested, and begged him 
 to explain matters, to spare her no detail. "The 
 Hunter's Moon is a bad moon," the Indian began. "It 
 is responsible for much of the lawlessness and sin of 
 this world, to our people who have no laws or sins 
 we called it the 'moon of blood and passion.' There 
 are some men who know how to bewitch themselves ; 
 I am sorry to say that most of this knowledge was de- 
 rived from us, though put to bad use though there 
 were Scotch women and Dutch women came into this 
 country who knew as many spells as any Indian. 
 Anyhow, the power to cast spells is known, and in this 
 valley belongs to a small secret society of which your 
 husband may be a member. I do not say that he is. but 
 I have seen him in the company of some men who are. 
 I could have joined when I was younger, but I knew 
 enough of the black art as it was, was more anxious 
 to forget it than to penetrate deeper into life's mys- 
 teries. I know this much about the organization : 
 The members have the power during the Hunter's 
 Moon, and for a night at a time during several other 
 moons, to make any woman come to them whom they 
 desire. My belief is that your husband has some one 
 with him in that shack at Aughwick, and if you will
 
 304 
 
 go there and speak to her you will lay the spell, and 
 she can never be with him again. I mean that partic- 
 ular woman. Once your man knows that you are 
 aware of his unlawful doings he will be more anxious 
 to remain ait home. If you wish," Indian Isaac contin- 
 ued, "I will go to his camp tonight and see if any one 
 is with him, and if there is, tomorrow night we can 
 proceed there and put an end to the sinful frolic." 
 Van Leirla's wife was thoroughly aroused by the 
 recital ; her Scotch blood, with its possible Indian 
 strain, gave her a real belief in the mysticism of the 
 mountains. "If you will take me to Aughwick to- 
 night I will go." said the girl, with emphasis. "It will 
 be a fifteen-mile walk across three ranges of moun- 
 tains, but if you are willing to go, I will be proud to 
 accompany you and help you right any wrongs which 
 may exist," replied old Isaac. First the girl said she 
 must run up the road to her mother's home, on the 
 hilly main street of Fannettsburg, and tell her that 
 she was leaving for her husband's camp in Aughwick 
 and would not be back for a couple of days. Putting 
 a shawl over her head, she raced around the house 
 and up the road to her mother's home in the quaint old 
 burg. The good woman was considerably surprised, 
 as this was her daughter's first excursion to the mucb- 
 talked-of shanty, but she accepted the explanation, 
 and everything was now in readiness for departure 
 She rejoined Indian Isaac, who caused her to put on 
 her black wolfskin coat, as the night would be cold ; 
 be could carry it for her if it became irksome. She
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 305 
 
 then wrapped up a "snack," which the Indian put into 
 his pocket. They waited until all the ruddy lights about 
 the valley had been extinguished, as they did not want 
 to be seen going off together ; no one would be on the 
 road at ten o'clock except lovers, and they would be 
 too absorbed to notice any one but themselves. In 
 order to make sure, they soon left the road and fol- 
 lowed a narrow lane, fenced on either side with stake 
 and riders, which led toward the steep face of Tusca- 
 rora Mountain. Up over the rocks there was a hun- 
 ter's path which they followed. On the summit they 
 paused to admire the crimson glory of the Hunter's 
 Moon, presiding over the passionate destiny of so 
 many dwellers in all the deep, dark vales below. The 
 young wife was not wearing comfortable shoes for 
 mountaineering, and her feet began to pain, conse- 
 quently the expected time was not made there were 
 frequent pauses. It was at dusk the next evening 
 when they came to the last ridge, Indian Isaac helping 
 her, and were in sight of Josephus Van Lierla's cabin 
 by the warm spring. At the foot of the mountain the 
 Indian placed himself behind a giant white oak, saying 
 that he would not go further, that if she found any- 
 thing to denounce the female to her face, that she 
 would fall into a heap of grease on the floor ; if he 
 was with her it would arouse the young man against 
 him and the settlers would band together to drive him 
 away or have him sent to Carlisle jail on some 
 trumped-up charge. There was no justice for the 
 redman if he got in the toils of the law. The girl saw
 
 306 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 the strength of his contention, and went forth boldly. 
 
 A light shone in the single window of the shack, 
 and she appeared at it like the Spirit of Vengeance. 
 Within she witnessed a most unpleasant scene. By 
 the light from the great fireplace she could see her 
 husband seated on a great easy chair, on his lap and 
 with his arms around her, and her cheek against his, 
 was the form of beautiful Grizel Fullion, the rich iron 
 master's daughter from Redmond Furnace. She, the 
 proud, haughty, exclusive beauty, who drew a line 
 with every one, was consorting in a rude cabin in the 
 wilds with a bear hunter. Wild with rage, the ill- 
 treated wife rushed to the door; if it was locked the 
 fury gave her strength, and the bolts gave way. She 
 stood before them, a look of hate in her black eyes. 
 The tall, slim, clinging form of the iron master's 
 daughter struggled to her feet, with a woman's in- 
 stinct trying to smooth down her taupe-colored skirt, 
 the unkempt masses of her huge shock of dark hair. 
 Color was appearing in her white cheeks, there was 
 only terror in her fine gray eyes. 
 
 "You bar guest!" the injured wife railed at her. 
 "Why are you here with my husband, leaving me all 
 alone? Begone, you rigg. Go back to the big house 
 where you belong." She could have said more, but 
 the beautiful and languorous figure of Grizel Fullion 
 collapsed in a heap on the floor. When the amazed 
 husband rushed forward to assist her, nothing was to 
 be seen but a pool of rancid grease. The bar guest 
 was gone.
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 307 
 
 Bold hunter that he was, Josephus Van Lierla was 
 too frightened to be angry at his wife. He stood look- 
 ing at her, trembling from head to foot. She now had 
 the mastery, and was prepared to use it. 
 
 "You sought to deceive me about you love of hunt- 
 ing," she began. "I don't think you ever cared for it. 
 You liked the women more. This camp has been an 
 excuse for you to conjure up all the pretty faces and 
 forms you admired, and have them here for your 
 pleasure, while I toiled at home, alone. You felt so 
 proud tonight to have the iron master's daughter on 
 your lap, with her cheek against yours, but where is 
 she now? Faugh, nothing but a pool of ugly grease 
 on the floor. I will not hold this against you, for I 
 would still love you if I found you with a dozen women 
 in your arms, but this business must come to an end. 
 I want your thoughts as well as your body, and I will 
 lay every ghost girl that comes near you.'' 
 
 Josephus Van Lierla still had nothing to say; he 
 was sheepish and crestfallen ; his shrewd deceptions 
 were revealed, and life could never be ihe same again. 
 "I am going to keep you at home after this," said the 
 wife, and, suiting the action to the word, she snatched 
 a burning brand from the fire, and threw it on to the 
 mass of grease where Grisel Fullion had lately stood. 
 'I here was a flash of flame, and Van Lierla and his 
 wife had barely time to escape from the blazing build- 
 ing. From a safe point on the mountain side they 
 watched the shanty burning, the wife happy and exult- 
 ing, the husband cowed and befuddled. They were
 
 308 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 standing not twenty feet from the great white oak 
 which sheltered Indian Isaac, who remained to wit- 
 ness the entire evening's proceedings. After the 
 shanty had burned down to a heap of ruddy coals, the 
 triumphant young wife escorted her husband across 
 the mountains to the snug little cottage at the outskirts 
 of Fannettsburg. Not once did she discuss the hap- 
 penings at the shanty, but was cheerful and loving 
 the entire distance. 
 
 Indian Isaac, unobserved, was following them, lest 
 Josephus grow angry and attack his wife, but he soon 
 saw that she was the tactful mistress of the situation. 
 When they came to the bars at the foot of the lane, 
 he saw the wife put her arm around her husband's neck 
 and kiss him. The Indian followed until the cottage 
 door closed on them and went oft" happy on up the 
 valley to his miserable hut near the foot of Amberson's 
 Knob. 
 
 It was winter time, and there had been a deep fall 
 of snow r before Van Lierla's wife saw him again. She 
 was seated at her kitchen window, sewing and hum- 
 ming a camp-meeting tune, when she observed him 
 coming up the valley from the direction of Fort Lou- 
 don. Her husband was in the wood-shed, sawing 
 wood, and she was happy. The tall, erect redman 
 came through the gate and around the house, while the 
 young wife ran to the door to admit him. ''There's no 
 one here," she whispered. "I'm glad to see you again." 
 The Indian took a seat in a corner of the fireplace,
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 309 
 
 raking the embers with his iromvood staff. "How 
 goes things?" he said. "I have found happiness," 
 replied the girl. "Josephus has never absented 
 himself a single night since we brought him home from 
 Aughwick. He is as good and kind now as he was 
 cold and indifferent formerly." Then she recited the 
 entire story of the visit to the shanty. 
 
 The Indian smiled as best he could, for his was a 
 cynical, cruel face, the result of nearly a century of 
 injustices, and it w r as hard to look pleasant. He ex- 
 pressed his gratification at what she had told him. ''I 
 have still more interesting news," he said. "I have 
 come from the furnace today, where I heard that the 
 iron master's daughter has been bedridden ever since 
 about the time you encountered her at Aughwick. She 
 collapsed on the parlor floor that night, and it was fear- 
 ed that she would die ; as it is, every bit of flesh has 
 left her body, and they say she looks like a skeleton 
 She was out of her head the night she was taken down, 
 and the help say that she talked something scandalous, 
 using terrible language, as if abusing some woman 
 whose husband she was in love with. Her family were 
 shocked, as she was always so proud and haughty and 
 reserved. They had to strap her down in bed for 
 days, she had such violent fits; they say that if she 
 ever gets out she will never look like the same person 
 again." 
 
 The young wife listened attentively. "Indian 
 Isaac," she said, *'I am sorry for the girl. She may 
 not have gone to Aughwick willingly. She may have
 
 310 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 been dragged there by a spell or incantation. I wish 
 that we could help her.'' 
 
 "You are too good," said the Indian. "I know 
 enough of this black art to tell you that unless a person 
 has a natural streak cf lowness or vice they cannot be 
 lured away by any charm or spell. I am not sorry for 
 her. All that is bad in her is being drained out by her 
 bed of sickness. If she gets up she will be worthy of 
 the stock she comes from, worthy of the beautiful 
 mask she wore. I have no pity for counterfeits or 
 frauds, but 1 will rejoice if she becomes the lady that 
 birth and opportunities intended her to be." 
 
 Just then there was a tramping on the Kitchen steps. 
 It was Josephus Van Lierla shaking the snow from his 
 boots, coming in to get a little warmth. The Indian 
 noted his pleasant demeanor towards his wife in fact, 
 the love light in his eyes and after a little chat took 
 his departure. All the way up the valley to Amber- 
 son's Knob he chuckled over his victory over the 
 black art.
 
 XXIII. The Lion's Garden 
 
 UP AT the heading of McCahe's Run there is a 
 rocky, castellated eminence that overlooks the 
 Cumberland Valley, which was formerly known 
 as the Lion's Garden. It is as difficult of access as it 
 is barren of vegetation a mass of huge rocks and 
 clefts, one piled upon another, admirable dens for wild 
 beasts in the long ago. On the very top, back of the 
 fortress-like abutments, there is a flat, level sfetch of 
 gravel rock, on which a few stunted jack pines clutch 
 n ith bare. hard, shriveled claws, that is the lion's gar 
 den or playground proper. In the old days the formid- 
 able panthers or Pennsylvania lions made theit home 
 at this seemingly impenetrable retreat, rearing their 
 young in the clefts and caves, and sunning themselves 
 and disporting with their cubs on the level surface of 
 the "garden." ( )n nights when the thermometer ran 
 low and the blood of the noble beasts coursed high they 
 would approach the very steepest pinnacle and roar at 
 the valley beneath, sometimes being answered by other 
 panthers miles away on distant summits. Some early 
 hunters claimed that panthers at the ''garden" were 
 answered by their kind clear across the Cumberland 
 Valley on the topmost crags of the South Mountain 
 chain. Needless to say, the presence of these monsters 
 incited the bold to seek them out. and caused weaker 
 spirits to shun the broad mountain fortresses where 
 they abounded. This, of course, was many years ago, 
 shortly after the Revolutionary War, in fact, for the 
 
 311
 
 312 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 panther has not bred or harbored in that region in 
 nearly a century. Every now and then stories are 
 whispered about in the old stores in Upper Strasburg, 
 Bloserville and New Germantown and similar places 
 that so-and-so saw a panther in the mountains, but 
 outside of Phil Wright, who has encountered several 
 wandering specimens of the tribe during his wide ex- 
 perience in the mountains, most of the stories are due 
 to a misconception of the animal. Few dwellers in the 
 South Mountains, the Cumberland Valley or the Broad 
 Mountains have ever seen a panther ; consequently it is 
 easy to confuse the long-tailed king of Pennsylvania 
 beasts with a good-sized bob cat. 
 
 Not long ago the seclusion of the Lion's Garden 
 was invaded by a party of cat-hunters, who, near the 
 Kake Oven, drove a monster wildcat into the rocks 
 after it had nearly torn to pieces two stout hounds. 
 The hunters, not to be daunted, applied dynamite, 
 tearing the animal's rocky hiding place to bits. Thus, 
 in order to slay one of God's beautiful and interesting 
 creatures, a great natural wonder that had stood the 
 ages was blasted away and the Maker's handiwork 
 marred forever. Was the cat's life worth this hideous 
 vandalism? And, after all, was it not better to know 
 that there was a real wildcat in the Lions' Garden than 
 to bear its moist and blood-stained hide down to Car- 
 lisle for the edfication of the curious and to claim the 
 tainted bounty ? 
 
 Mary Jemison, famed as the White Woman of the 
 Genessee, lived for a time in a hillside clearing below
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 313 
 
 the Lion's Garden. She knew some of the legends of 
 the neighborhood, which she often told to her descend- 
 ants. She had been carried off as a child by the In- 
 dians, but would never return to civilization, because 
 the whites had been too unjust to the Indians, she said, 
 and if she had heard a tale which happened right at the 
 Garden years after she left there, she might have been 
 even more bitter against her own race. This story, 
 which is still repeated by some of the very old people, 
 tells of the supposed lack of protection which the laws 
 gave to the Indians, which was much like the treatment 
 accorded in many localities to our Negro population 
 today. 
 
 During the latter years of the Revolution there was 
 a deserter by the name of Cain Smithgall. He was 
 not without courage, for he had been wounded at 
 Brandywine ; but his desertion was caused by the 
 reason which has made so many enlisted men false to 
 their trust, the ill treatment by an officer. Of moun- 
 tain origin, he came from the Welsh Mountains of 
 Lancaster County, a miniature highland region that 
 lias produced a particularly self-reliant race of people, 
 and some outlaws among the latter the redoubtable 
 Abe Buzzard he could not endure the brutal super- 
 ciliousness of his lieutenant. Rather than shoot the 
 officer in the back he took to the timber, and after many 
 wanderings found himself far beyond the pale of civil- 
 ization on the banks of Moshannon Creek. He lived 
 for a time by hunting and fishing, until one evening a 
 lone Indian girl, with scars on her cheeks, chanced to
 
 314 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 pass his cabin door. He called to her, and, after she 
 realized that he meant no harm, she stopped and told 
 him her unhappy story. 
 
 There were two sisters, she said, twins, so much 
 alike that one wore red ribbon in her hair, the other 
 yellow, to distinguish them apart, who lived near one 
 of the sources of the Little Conewago, in the South 
 Mountain country. They were of the Lenni Lenape 
 affiliation, the very last in the neighborhood but for 
 their aged parents and grandparents. Farther down 
 the stream lived a prosperous white family whose son 
 had become an officer of the Colonial forces. He was 
 handsome to look upon, but proud and conceited over 
 his rapid progress in the army. This was not alto- 
 gether due, she averred, to his military aptness, but 
 becraise his mother belonged to one of the large land- 
 owning- families of Lancaster County, possessed of 
 much political influence. 
 
 The girl had fallen in love with the officer, and met 
 him frequently in the forest when he came home on 
 leave, but when she confessed her love to her sister 
 the twin tore her hair and said that she, too, loved the 
 same man and would kill herself before she could see 
 her married to him. The girl replied that he had 
 never even intimated marriage, that such an event 
 might never take place, as his parents would oppose 
 such, a union, but the twin's tantrum continued ; she 
 would not be comforted if her sister ever saw him 
 again or even thought of him. The Indian girl, pos- 
 sessed of the high ideals of her race, was in a quan-
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 315 
 
 clary ; she could not live without seeing the officer, yet 
 she must not break her twin's heart. She made a bold 
 proposition to the selfish twin. That was that they 
 should both travel west, exposing themselves to all 
 dangers, until they came to some yawning precipice, 
 where they would jump off, hand in hand, and end 
 their unsatisfactory lives together. The two accepted 
 the plan "without reservations, " v as she saw no way to 
 conquer her sister's love for the young officer. 
 
 In the dead of night, in the midst of a storm, they 
 crept out of the parental cabin and started for the 
 west. They had many adventures on the way, were 
 followed by wolves, insulted by bold woodsmen, and 
 the like, but, generally speaking, they found more kind- 
 liness and hospitality than anything else, and were 
 forced to travel several moons before they came to a 
 precipice terrible enough to mean certain death. At 
 last they came to a great ledge of rocks overlooking 
 the vast pineries of what is now called Clearfield 
 County. ( )ff to the north rose the three mighty knobs, 
 held sacred by the Senecas, while here and there n 
 glimpse was to be had of the meandering course- of 
 the Sinnemahoning and the Susquehanna. With 
 clasped hands they said : "We die for Lieutenant 
 Bilger ; these are his rocks, because we who belong n 
 him body and soul desire to end our lives from them.'' 
 With a last glance at the beauties of the scene abou 1 
 them they sprang off into space. 
 
 There was a loud thud as one twin struck the 
 flagging beneath and was crushed to pieces, but the
 
 316 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 other girl's skirt caught in a dead limb of a chestnut 
 tree, and she dangled there, head downwards. Such a 
 fate was worse than death, as her sufferings were ex- 
 cruciating. Ultimately she must die, but it would be 
 slow torture. Worse than all, a golden eagle spied her 
 and, dropping from the heavens, struck at her face 
 with its talons, giving it several deep gashes that would 
 leave permanent scars. While she was lapsing into 
 what she felt would be final unconsciousness, she 
 was surprised to see a middle-aged and stout Indian 
 brave looking at her from below. He procured a long 
 and powerful chestnut pole and hooked her down as 
 a Lancaster County farmer would a ham in a smoke- 
 house. Once released, the blood left her head, and, 
 despite her predicament, she no longer wanted to die. 
 She desired to return to the officer and her aged pa- 
 rents on the Little Conewago. 
 
 The Indian claimed that as he had saved her life she 
 belonged to him, and he kept her a virtual prisoner at 
 his camp near the Rocking Stone for nearly a year. 
 He had taken sick, and she was out looking for medici- 
 nal herbs, when she passed the deserter's cabin. The 
 ex-soldier had met this ill-favored Indian several times 
 in the forests, and liked him none too well, but he went 
 with the girl to his shack, where they found him in 
 the midst of his death struggles. He passed away in 
 about an hour, and they buried him beside the Rocking 
 Stone, near where the ferry road comes down the hill. 
 The Indian girl rather liked the deserter's personality, 
 but when she mentioned the officer's name again he
 
 The Old Ferry, 
 Near the Rocking Stone 
 
 (Photograph by 
 Fred C. Miller)
 
 316 
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 other girt skirt caught in a dead limb of a chestnut 
 tree, ami she dangled there, head downwards. Such a 
 fati- \\.-is worse than death, a.s her sufferings were ex- 
 erucu"'-ig. Ultimately she nir.st die, hut it would be 
 slow torture, \\orse than nil. a golden eagle spied her 
 and, dropping from the heavens, struck at her face 
 with its taions. giving it sever;*! deep gashes that would 
 leave pe; matient scars. V\ hile -he was lapsing into 
 what -iu. ielt wnnld be turai unconsciousness, ^he 
 \va> -'-.ir;. ns.-'d {) see a middle-aged and stout Indian 
 y-^i.yi "'.irMHir'") 1 /'. "Hi" *TM("jhv. 
 
 and - .- 
 
 a 1 ,av:i a 
 
 R 
 
 She desired 
 renr-i on the 
 'I lie Trtlia 
 belong 
 his can; 
 
 '"^WWtf'i"; 
 
 ounty'rafnier wouTc] a ham 11 
 snoJ2 yiubog sHJ -UBS/I 
 
 t.dicaiiient, she no longer war 
 
 i.ittle C. 
 
 i claimed that an !H: h.iul sa : 
 
 r down as 
 a sinoke- 
 iead, and, 
 ted to die. 
 r aged pa- 
 
 r le she 
 
 nrn, and he keiil tier a virtual prisoner at 
 i 1 iie-u the Rocking Stone for nearly a year. 
 
 He had u ; L'M ick and ^hc was out looking for medici- 
 j ;:^sed the deserter's cabin. The 
 ft tins ill-favored Indian several times 
 :i 'iked him none too well, but he went 
 ins sh.H'k where they found him in 
 v.-jtp >t'uggle<. He passed away in 
 : they buried him beside the Rocking 
 IMC ferry road comes down the hill. 
 r;n ser liked the deserter's personality, 
 
 nal herbs ,>.-':en 
 ex- soli lie i li;--:, '* 
 in the fofe-t.-. :: : 
 with the g:ri 
 tl;e ir^ids: of }}', 
 \l)'"'tir :in hour. ;; 
 Stone, rear whe 
 The Iruiian irirl 
 
 ut 
 
 -^iie nv. rrioned the officer's name asjain he
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 317 
 
 forbade her to ever do so, as he was the cause of his 
 desertion from the patriot cause which he had loved 
 so well. The shock of so many changes had turned 
 the girl's heart currents awry, and she soon came to 
 dislike the memory of the officer as much as she had 
 formerly loved him. He was an anathema to her, just 
 the same as to Cain Smithgall. 
 
 The Indian girl and the deserter were happy to- 
 gether, but they both felt an instinctive longing to 
 move back nearer to their earlier homes. Where they 
 lived was too much of a wilderness, the forests were 
 too uniformly black and solemn, there were too many 
 wolves, too many uncanny sounds at night. Ultimately 
 they traveled across the mountains until they came to 
 the superb level fortress rock known as the Lion's 
 Garden. There beyond them lay a view that en- 
 chanted their souls, for the day was clear, the "first 
 cold snap" in September. Heyond the fields and groves 
 of many colors in the valley rose the South Mountains, 
 where the Conewago headed, and a patch of silver 
 told where the lordly Susquehanna flowed, and further 
 away were dim, gray outlines of hills that might have 
 been spurs of the Welsh Mountains. Could they live 
 on that remote, breeze-swept pinnacle? It was almost 
 in sight of the girl's former home and his ! Smithgall 
 had his rifle; there would always be game, and he 
 might be able to work a few days every harvest for 
 farmers in Horse Valley, Amberson's Valley or Path 
 Valley, where he was not known, and thereby earn the 
 winter's grist There was a great cleft between two huge
 
 318 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 boulders that, if roofed over, would make a tolerable 
 home. He had heard his mother, who came from the 
 North of Ireland, say that Prince Charlie, who sought 
 to be king of Scotland, had lived in a box in a tree for 
 three months after a price had been put on his head'. 
 He went to work with a will and soon had a tolerably 
 comfortable abode constructed. Its roof did not pro- 
 ject above the top of the ''garden," therefore it would 
 not be apparent from the valleys ; the smoke was car- 
 ried out through a wooden pipe towards Horse Valley. 
 
 They were very happy in this new home ; they 
 would have been, even if the panthers still harbored 
 there. One night they were visited by an amorous 
 Pennsylvania lion. It was in the late fall, and the 
 giant feline stood on a crag which overhung the valley 
 and roared out his soul to the wilderness. Smithgall 
 and the Indian girl, whom he called "Scar Face," 
 climbed to the top of the garden, just so that their 
 heads appeared, and watched the tawny brute perform 
 his weird cantata. There were other visitors from the 
 wilds, deer, bears, wildcats, wolves, foxes, eagles, 
 vultures and hosts of smaller birds, including Carolina 
 parrots and passenger pigeons, all of which added to 
 the enjoyment of the mountain retreat. Smithgall was 
 able to find work in the valleys and provided the win- 
 ter's grist, which he bore on his back across the 
 Tri-Mountain road clear to a mill in Path Valley. 
 
 One morning late in November, Scar Face, carrying 
 an earthen crock on her head, was on her way down 
 the gorge below the Lion's Garden to a copious spring
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 319 
 
 which flowed from under the vast agglomeration of 
 mighty rocks. It was sweet water, but a trifle unhandy 
 to secure when the weather was inclement. As she 
 tripped down the steep path, the sun shining on her 
 from among the glassy needles of the old yellow pines, 
 she came face to face with Lieutenant Bilger, going up 
 the mountain on a deer hunt. He was leading two 
 large hounds on leash, which he would let loose when 
 he got to the top of the mountain. The young man 
 had grown coarse and sensual looking, being about the 
 same type physically as the Indian at the Rocking 
 Stone, and Scar Face detested him as much. The girl 
 had gained in beauty, her face was very winning, ova! 
 shaped, with almond-shaped eyes, a soft flush of pink 
 in her brown cheeks, which the deep scars marred very 
 little, a form voluptuous and shapely. 
 
 The former officer glared at her as a fox would at 
 the sight of a lovely pheasant. Then he placed his 
 rifle in the hand which held the dog-chains and caught 
 her around the waist and drew her towards him. It 
 was all done so suddenly that the earthen pot fell to 
 the rocky path with a crash, and she screamed out with 
 chagrin and terror. "Shut your mouth, girl," said 
 Bilger ; "come along with me, just as you used to 
 during the war; I am surprised at your indifference." 
 
 Just then a shot rang out from a point one hundred 
 feet farther up the path. The officer clutched the air 
 and fell in a heap, dead, with a bullet hole through his 
 temple. Smithgall soon appeared, swearing and carry- 
 ing his smoking flintlock. "I could not help it," he
 
 320 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 said, "when I saw the man who ruined my life taking 
 such liberties with you I had to shoot. I knew that 
 there would be no justice for an Indian before the 
 law." "You do not need to explain anything," replied 
 Scar Face. "You gave him what he deserved, but our 
 happy days are ended." 
 
 That afternoon a strange-looking couple were seen 
 wending their way down the mountain roads towards 
 Carlisle, hand in hand. The man wore a heavy beard, 
 was shabbily dressed, and carried a blunderbuss slung 
 across his back. The woman, who was younger, was 
 of an Indian or Oriental cast of countenance, and 
 dressed in a costume that was partly Indian and mostly 
 rags. Entering the town after dark, they made their 
 way to the home of the gaoler, alongside the forbid- 
 ding-looking old bastile. Knocking at the door, they 
 were soon admitted and in the kitchen recited the story 
 of the murder.' "1 give myself up," said the man, "be- 
 cause I do not want any one to think that my wife had 
 anything to do with the crime. I killed the brute to 
 protect her, because I know that no law exists for the 
 Indian people." 
 
 The couple were put in adjoining cells for safe- 
 keeping, and the Judge notified next morning. What 
 the outcome of the case was the legend does not state, 
 but there is no record of the hanging of any one named 
 Cain Smithgall in the annals of Cumberland County, 
 and it is stated that the Sheriff overheard the Judge 
 remark, as he signed the deserter's commitment papers, 
 "It seems that this man feels that the law of the land
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 321 
 
 does not protect the Indians. I will show him that in 
 my Court they receive consideration." 
 
 Further than that nothing is known, but the cabin in 
 the cleft at the Lion's Garden was never again tenanted 
 and gradually the roof fell in, until today there are no 
 signs of human habitation ever having been there, and 
 the story of the panthers' "playground" has been to 
 many the sole tradition of this wild and remote moun- 
 tain lookout.
 
 XXIV. The Man of Peace 
 
 THERE was a select company in that part of the 
 kitchen of Ancketell's Horse Valley Tavern, 
 which was used as an eating room. At the long 
 table sat ok! Highlander McGarrah, two North of 
 Ireland lawyers from Pittsburg, Laughlin and Mc- 
 Ginley, who were trained in the office of the celebrated 
 Brackenridge, a wealthy landowner from Casey's Knob 
 named MacKinnon, and last but not least Major Gen- 
 eral Arthur St. Clair, of Miami fame. The Pittsburg 
 lawyers had been close friends ever since they sailed 
 up the Liffy on the same ship bound for America, but 
 none of the others had ever met before that evening. 
 General St. Clair was returning to his tumble-down 
 farm on the Chestnut Ridge after an unsuccessful ef- 
 fort to secure a pension at Washington ; he had be- 
 come storm-stayed, and, meeting a group of men of 
 similar racial affiliations and social position, he gave 
 himself up to an evening's social enjoyment. While 
 the carters, drovers, packers and nondescript travelers 
 thronged the tap-room across the hall, the select com- 
 pany at the candle-lit walnut table, with all the exclu- 
 siveness which they deserved, passed the hours as only 
 men of breeding and experience knew how. 
 
 Eleanor, the landlord's charming blonde daughter, 
 waited on the distinguished company personally, 
 noting that not a single want should go unrecorded, 
 and as rounds of toddies followed faster and faster 
 
 322
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 323 
 
 they became as convivial as Scotsmen can be, happy 
 but not hilarious. 
 
 Across the hall, in the bar, talk waxed loud ; many 
 voices were jabbering and joking in Pennsylvania 
 Dutch. It was all coarse and boisterous, but the elegant 
 group at the dining room table seemed entirely oblivious 
 of the carryings-on of the underlings as if they did not 
 exist. And yet not a single one of the five gentlemen 
 was what would be termed a snob far from it. they 
 were all kindly, genial souls, but their place in life had 
 instilled in them a dignity and a reserve which no 
 amount of good spirits would unbend. 
 
 Enough liquor always reveals the true man ; the 
 snob or veneered gentleman usually gets downright 
 ugly in his cups, whereas the true man of parts is 
 always the same, drunk or sober. As the evening 
 wore on, and one subject after another was discussed 
 and laid aside, the conversation turned to ghosts and 
 apparitions, usually a good topic to bring up as the 
 clock inclines toward the witching hour. General St. 
 Clair related how he had stopped at a stone farmhouse 
 near McMurrin's Run, in the Central part of the 
 State, while trying to establish the lines of one of his 
 military land grants, and during the night had heard 
 heavy footsteps on the attic floor above, and some 
 booted person walking down stairs, through the hall, 
 unbolting the front door and going out into the frosty 
 yard. 
 
 The tenant's wife had told him the following even- 
 ing that shortly after the house was built Indians
 
 324 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 slipped in and with axes attacked the sleeping occu- 
 pant in his bunk, completely severing the body above 
 the waist. They had carried the torso, arms and head 
 away with them, leaving the hips and legs weltering in 
 the bed. Their motive was one of pique because the 
 settler's \vife and daughters were not at home, and 
 the chance for a nice string of captives was accordingly 
 missed. 
 
 The heavy footsteps were those of the severed body 
 going out to hunt its missing trunk, which it did every 
 night. Xeeclless to say, the tenants retired to their 
 rooms before midnight, but many persons had seen it 
 on moonlight nights going across the yard to the barn, 
 as it seemed to cherish an inclination that it would fin.l 
 its missing parts there. "All that would go to show," 
 said one of the Pittsburg lawyers, "that the poor fel- 
 low who was murdered went to bed with his boots on." 
 
 The other lawyer remarked that in Donegal, where 
 he was born, he heard of a bodyless ghost that haunted 
 a ford, where it frightened travelers so severely that 
 numbers fell over into the deep water and were 
 drowned. "Bodyless and headless ghosts are very 
 common in Ireland," remarked the other Pittsburger, 
 ''and it is strange to find the same superstition over 
 here in America." 
 
 MacKinnon, the landowner from Casey's Knob, now 
 took a part in the conversation. "Over in Green 
 Castle, which town, by the way. has such a fine Irish 
 name that it makes me homesick for Lough Foyle 
 every time I mention it there was quite a sensation a
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 325 
 
 few weeks ago, when a very estimable lady, while 
 cutting her winter cabbages in her garden ' in broad 
 daylight, on chancing to look back at her house, saw a 
 headless woman, dressed in a gray, shroud-like garb, 
 standing at one of the windows. Brandishing her 
 knife, the worthy woman hurried to the house, and 
 went in by the back door, in time to meet the headless 
 woman coming down the back stairs. Her courage 
 must have failed, for she stepped aside and allowed 
 the apparition to come down by her, go out the rear 
 door, and disappear among the old boxwoods and 
 Irish junipers at the far end of the garden. 
 
 "I don't think her courage failed, but if she came 
 from Ireland she knew that it brings bad luck to pass 
 any one on the stairs," said one of the Pittsburg 
 lawyers. "Be that as it may," said MacKinnon, "I 
 could have told more about that ghost than almost any 
 one, but I held my tongue, and nobody in town seems 
 to know the correct story, though all their tongues 
 are wagging and every kind of a hazard is made. I 
 happened to know all about it, as it had its start only 
 about thirty years ago, during our Revolutionary 
 War. I had lately arrived from the North of Ireland, 
 from near Uuncrana, and was attracted to the town of 
 Green Castle by its name. I had a sweetheart, an 
 earl's daughter, in the Irish town of that name. I 
 did not wed her, for she was forced to marry one of 
 her own station, but 1 always liked -the name of 
 Green Castle for her sake. There was another young 
 Ulster lad in the town, a few years older than myself,
 
 326 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 young Alex. McClerrachan, who became a Captain of 
 Dragoons in the American Army. I joined with him 
 and became his orderly, or aide, or right-hand man, 
 whichever you prefer to call it. I looked after his 
 affairs when he was away ; that is, I was passed 
 through the lines to go to Green Castle whenever he 
 had any business for me to attend to, and if I do say k 
 myself, I carried out his secret commissions well, 
 thereby laying the foundation of my future advance- 
 ment in life. Among other confidential duties I was 
 to look after his lady love, the beautiful Deborah 
 Swanwick, who lived in the big Colonial mansion near 
 the bridge where the good woman saw the headless 
 ghost. There were a hundred things I might do, and I 
 tried my best to see that she had every word of every 
 message that my young master sent, and gifts, little 
 and big, at all times. The Captain was an ardent lover, 
 and it worried him to be away from his beloved, but 
 he was also a fighting man, and felt that his duty was 
 right in the thick of it. Though he was restless and 
 unhappy when away from her, it did not dim his mili- 
 tary genius, for he worked out many a ruse de guerre 
 for his Colonel that earned the commendation of 
 General Washington, just as you, sir, General St. 
 Clair, to a greater degree devised the plan that resulted 
 in the victorious battle of Princeton." At this the 
 jaded countenance of the old General colored with a 
 conscious pride, and he expressed his appreciation of 
 the compliment. "One morning," MacKinnon went 
 on, ''the Captain told me that he had had some very
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 327 
 
 ugly dreams, such as crossing dark, angry waters, that 
 he always dreamed straight, and I must proceed to 
 Green Castle at once. We were lying before Trenton, 
 and it took some effort to go over the Delaware and 
 make the long journey overland. Before I reached 
 the Castle I met some travelers posting away from it. 
 Some plague, probably the cholera had broken out 
 there, and the people were dying like flies. I went to 
 the town despite the warnings and visited the Cap- 
 tain's betrothed. Her parents were absent, visiting a 
 married daughter in Baltimore, and she was in the big 
 house with her brother, who was ill with some trifling 
 malady, and with them were a dozen Negro servants. 
 1 urged her to leave town and not to run the risk of 
 catching the dreadful scourge, but she said that she 
 would hold her ground and not think of leaving her 
 brother until he was entirely recovered. I did not like 
 this, but I knew how deeply she loved her brother, and 
 I was undecided whether to hurry to Baltimore and 
 warn her parents or go back to the Captain before 
 Trenton. 
 
 I decided to go back to Trenton, and make the ride 
 of my life to get there. My heart was in my mouth, 
 as I knew how my chief would feel when I gave him 
 my report. He was beside himself with anxiety when 
 he heard the news, and as the battle was going our 
 way he got leave and set out immediately to Green 
 Castle. I remained at headquarters in case there was 
 any call for information which he possessed, for I knew 
 all his military plans and arrangements. I have
 
 328 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 heard nhat happened at Green Castle from the Cap- 
 tain in a dozen different ways; lie was always so 
 wrought up when he told of it that he could never re- 
 peat it twice alike, and in another dozen ways from 
 the Negro servants. From what I judge to be the 
 correct version he rushed into the house to make the 
 girl fly with him, only to learn from the old Negro 
 Syphax, who met him at the foot of the great stairs, 
 in the hall that has such wonderful Irish paper on the 
 walls, that she had died of the plague, and that he had 
 just placed her in her coffin. The Captain dashed up 
 the stairs, followed by the Negro. In the dead girl's 
 room he found a horrid state of affairs. When she 
 had passed away, Syphax sent one of his sons to order 
 ii coffin from a cabinet maker whose stock was natur- 
 ally running low ; the common people were being 
 buried in trenches without coffins, and the lad had said 
 that a young girl had died. The cabinet maker, think- 
 ing that the deceased was a child, sent a small coffin, 
 and the Negro could not get the body into it full 
 length. With a carving knife he had cut off her head 
 and tried to put it in the coffin, but even then could 
 not close down the lid. When the Captain entered the 
 room the head lay beside the coffin, in a large pewter 
 porringer. The grief and fury of the bereaved lover 
 knew no bounds, lie struck the old Negro across the 
 face with his sabre, inflicting a terrible wound. lie 
 raised such an outcry that the other Negroes and the 
 town constables seized him and dragged him out of 
 the mansion and down street, and locked him in the
 
 Far in 
 
 the 
 Forest
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 u-iird v -, 1 .a ha pinned HI Given Castle from the Cap- 
 ia:;i in .: -i'-zen dilU'-em way?; lie was always so 
 \\Tiaig-:' :^i \\iuMi ho told of it that !>< e.oukl never re- 
 1-ea 1 ' i-wiee ahke, .snd in ano:her dozen ways from 
 
 \\Lf-. -erv;m ! >. Fr-'jn wnat 1 judge to he the 
 
 ' 
 
 -mx'f vi. r-iun he -uslH.'l into the house to make the 
 jjiv! H 1 v ith him. only to '.cam froviv the old Negro 
 Syph;..'. .; :u. c htm at the fn >\ of f'ne j^real stairs, 
 > iiii-li w..mdei i u iri.-h ] 
 
 tat 
 
 ,r in her ooiVm. Tin- '/'iptain 
 
 ni 
 
 
 'id :i horrid slate of affair^. 
 
 
 one < 
 
 clashed up 
 lead girl's 
 When she 
 is to order 
 vas natur- 
 ere being 
 ail said 
 
 \cr, think- 
 
 hai t!ie <}, .T,ised \vas a ci.ild, sent ;i small coffin, 
 '! , \cgr-i c<,:i\<\ iiot. get the 1/ooy ii.'to it full 
 ; 'h .. ;r ! ing- knife he had ml off her head 
 ;: the c(!tTin, bin e\-en then e'.mld 
 \\T.ui the t;:|:i;i!ti entered the 
 i- the coflin. in a large pe\\ter 
 il furv of the bereaved. lovc r 
 rnek the old Negro arruss the 
 u >! ':ig a terrible wound. He 
 ai ;iu: other Xt-grries and the 
 h::r. .ind t.lrag^tl hhn out of 
 
 i in- n-aiision and 'v. -, sti'cei. .m<.i I'.'u'ked him in the
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 329 
 
 cellar of the Ihill Hotel, the one that had the picture 
 of a buffalo on the signboard. Meanwhile the coffin 
 lid was clamped down and the girl was interred with- 
 out her head. The wounded Negro buried her head 
 at the far end of the garden, in her arbor, surrounded 
 bv her favorite clumps of box, Irish juniper and yel- 
 low tea roses. The Captain's leave running short, he 
 had to return to the front, but he was a changed man 
 ever afterwards. If he was brave before, he was 
 reckless now, and exposed himself a hundred times, 
 but it was his fate to live, and he came through the war 
 without a scratch. You mav recall, General St. Clair, 
 sir, how with Colonel |ohn Kelly he stemmed the 
 I'rilish advance at Princeton. The aged General nod- 
 ded his affirmation. 
 
 "The old Xegro whom he had wounded cherished a 
 'Tudi'c against him, and never mentioned until on his 
 death bel. and long after the Captain had departed 
 this life, that the head had not been buried with the 
 bodv. When the Captain returned to Green Castle 
 V.e heard of the headless figure which occasionally was 
 -ecu, but he did not know that its cause was the head 
 buried at the far end of the garden, lie lived prin- 
 ci] allv on his estates around Casey's Knob, where I 
 became his fao'.or, and he gave me a chance to buy 
 in some of his farms on easy terms, and when he died 
 unmarried ten years after the war, 1 bought most of 
 his other holdings at the sales held to close the estate. 
 Ten years after lie died Che old scar-faced Xegro 
 Syphax stepped out at the age of one hundred and
 
 330 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 
 
 twelve ; on his death-bed he sent for me and told the 
 story of how he could not close the coffin with the 
 head in any position, so had closed it without it and 
 buried the beautiful Deborah Swan wick's head in the 
 garden. I suppose that I should halve notified her 
 kindred, though she had no close relatives; her father, 
 mother and brother had meanwhile passed away, 
 yet it seemed an impertinence on my part, so I let the 
 matter rest where it was. Of course, if the ghost was 
 persistent, and ruined the rental value of the mansion 
 it would have been different, but it was only a periodi- 
 cal haunt as they say in these parts, so I have let the 
 ghost work out its own salvation. The whole affair 
 ruined Captain McClerrachain's life, he became from 
 one of the most light hearted and engaging of men. 
 dour and taciturn, and refused to see even his military 
 friends, so that death was a relief to him." 
 
 "It is a most amazing story," said the old High- 
 lander McGarrah, ''and my sympathies are with the 
 headless gliost, may she unite her head with her body 
 through some one's kind interposition and rest quietly 
 in her tom'b." Suiting the action to the word he drain- 
 ed his toddy in a silent toast, just as the 'tall clock in 
 the hall was striking twelve. The company began to 
 show signs of breaking up for the night, and the fair 
 Eleanor with a tray began clearing away the glasses 
 and decanters. 
 
 Under his breath the old Highlander whispered to 
 his companions how well connected the fair wait- 
 ress was, that her ne'er do well father was responsible
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN SKETCHES 331 
 
 for her not occupying a higher position in the world. 
 "She could marry, and marry well," he added, "but 
 she will not desert her father, or the others of the 
 family." "Noble girl," said General St. Clair, as he 
 took a pinch of snuff and stood wheezing in the door- 
 way. The alert Eleanor handed each guest a rush- 
 light, and they started for their rooms up the long, 
 cold stairs. 
 
 The old Highlander McGarrah lingered in the 
 kitchen while he adjusted his plaid shawl preparatory 
 to going out into the storm to proceed to his lonely 
 home down the valley. "Eleanor," he whispered, u it 
 was a great lot of ghosts that our friends tonight have 
 been telling of. They may be the best ghosts of their 
 kind and all that, but they do no one any good. Let me 
 itell you a secret, my girl. I have been seeing a visitor 
 from another world of late. An old man dressed in 
 black with a Covenanter's hat and a long white beard, 
 and carrying a staff, has been walking about my 
 orchard and pastures just at sundown and dusk every 
 clear evening. He is what some Scotch people term 
 a "caller," but he is generally spoken of by die Irish 
 as a Man of Peace. He is a spirit that foretells that 
 something pleasant is going to happen, a joyful change 
 in one's life. It gave me a thrill when I first saw him, 
 and I have taken care never to disturb him, or let any 
 of my hirelings go out after him. It means only one 
 thing to me. If you will remember the story I told 
 you, how the old sexton at Lochabar spoke of 'ghosts 
 of the living'. You well know the only pleasant, for-
 
 332 
 
 tuitous thing that could happen to me. It seems too 
 good to he true, hut 'the Man of Peace has never vis- 
 ited anyone unless he brings assurance that one's 
 fondest wish is to be gratified. Some things in life 
 are said to be as 'irrevocable as death/ but where the 
 Man of Peace comes from there is a way of making 
 the impossible possible even ridiculously easy. I feel 
 that the great wrong of my life is to be rightel 
 \Yrongs are only made to be righted just as love is 
 made to last, and I will see some one, in all the beauty 
 of those early days, and everything will be just as it 
 was, and should have been always." 
 
 The old man had wrapped and unwrapped his plaid, 
 dyed with his Clan's colors, about his shoulders half a 
 dozen times. He was 'ois distraught as a lad of 
 eighteen telling of his first love affair. As he threw 
 open the door gusts of cold air and flurries of snow- 
 flakes blew in. 
 
 "Please forgive me, Eleanor, girl," he said, "for 
 detaining you with this little secret adventure of 
 mine, but I couldn't help telling you about the Man 
 of Peace. I want to keep you posted up to date. 
 Good night." 
 
 Me shut the door and was gone, a Ione 1 y figure, into 
 the storm. 
 
 "Good night, good luck," Eleanor called after him 
 as she stood in the hallway, with the flickering rush- 
 light in her hand. "If wrongs are made to be righted, 
 then there is nothing irrevokable except death."
 
 xtr
 
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