^MM ^tr:smM^G^>-^;)lS 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 Lewis Wetzel, 
 
 THE RENOWNED 
 
 VIRGINIA RANGER AND SCOUT. 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 A THRILLING HISTORY OF THIS CELEBRATED INDIAN FIGHTER, 
 WITH HIS PERILOUS ADVENTURES AND HAIR-BREADTH 
 ESCAPES, AND INCLUDING OTHER INTEREST- 
 ING INCIDENTS OF BORDER-LIFE. 
 
 LARGELY COMPILED 
 
 From Authentic Kecords Hitherto Unpublished 
 
 BT 
 
 R C. V. MEYEES, Esq. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA! 
 JOHN E. POTTER AND COMPANY, 
 
 617 Sansom Street. 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 By JOHN E. POTTER & COMPANY 
 
 m 
 
• \AJ54 
 
 PREFACE. pl/^f JQ 
 
 In the preparation of this -work, the author has had 
 peculiar advantages. He has had access to a large 
 collection of Miscellanies touching on early border times. 
 He has had the opportunity of consulting rare authors on 
 frontier life and warfare. He has derived considerable 
 aid, in the disposition of his materials, from former writers 
 on various subjects connected with the life and manners of 
 our early Western settlers. He has also enjoyed a large 
 acquaintance among those who are directly or remotely 
 the descendants of the Wetzel family, and especially 
 among the descendants of those who lived at the time 
 when the hero of this work lived, or at the places he 
 frequented. He has, therefore, been enabled, in many 
 cases, to verify the truth of incidents which he found in 
 books by these oral traditions, and in other instances he 
 has carefully collated traditional reports with these written 
 records. 
 
 But the author has had frequent occasion to congratu- 
 late himself on the possession of family documents in the 
 form of diaries, or letters, written at the time. These 
 private records give an idea of the times they were written 
 in in that naive and simple style which pertains to all 
 writings meant primarily but for the owner's eye, or those 
 of his near friends. He has violated no confidence with 
 these manuscripts; but, in several instances, he has been 
 induced to quote, in the very language of the memoirs, 
 certain portions specially bearing upon the subject in 
 hand, and in many more he has given the substance. 
 
 (iii) 
 
 Me??9591 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 From these various sources the author has collated the 
 scenes and incidents and thrilling adventures of the 
 celebrated scout. And with all due sense of his faults — 
 and no one can feel these more than the author hiraself — 
 he cherishes the hope, both that he has succeeded in form- 
 ing such an idea of the times of Lewis Wetzel as is most 
 consonant to the truth, and in representing these times in 
 an intelligent and entertaining manner to the reader. 
 
 The author has not been able to regard Wetzel as a 
 paragon of virtue, an erring devotee of a mistaken 
 fanaticism, or so void of principle as to account the blood 
 of his fellow-creatures cheap, provided it was flowing 
 beneath a red skin. But he was a man of the times, one 
 who proved a bulwark for the infant settlements, and a 
 right arm for their defense — and in this sense, truly a hero. 
 
 And in his view of the Indian character, the author has 
 also taken a middle course. He has been unable to see in 
 the Indian all the simplicity which sentimental philan- 
 thropy affects to find there. But he has likewise failed to 
 see all the fiendishness sometimes ascribed to that character 
 by those who are interested in dispossessing the Indian from 
 his soil. Much might be said in extenuation of the hostil- 
 ity of the savage. But there is also another side. And we 
 fail as often when we lose sight of the character of the 
 civilization of the pioneers as we do when we forget the 
 law of human progress; for behind all we must bow with 
 awe and reverence before that Divine Providence, who 
 controls and bends the world to his will. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 From Old Things Unto New 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A Childhood 22 
 
 CHAPTER 111. 
 The Bear 35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Oath 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Indian Scout • 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Martin Wetzel 104 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 A Massacre 125 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Crawford's Campaign 154 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A Pursuit and an Escape 181 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 An Indian Waylaid 199 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Capture and Escape 229 
 
 (V) 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII, ,^^^ 
 
 Free , 247 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 The Hundred Dollars Reward 259 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Turkey-Cry 276 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A Chance for an Arrest 292 
 
 CHAPTER XVI* 
 The Ijtdian Ctirl 300 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TRLA.L AND ACQUITTAL 306 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The Indian Camp 322 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 The Hut in the Storm 331 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 The Story or the Lovers 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Wetzel's Brothers 359 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 The New Orleans Episode 388 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 The Last Indian 401 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Vale 407 
 
 
Lewis Wetzel: 
 
 THE VIEGIH'IA KANGER 
 
 ' CHAPTER I. 
 
 FROM OLD THINGS UNTO NEW. 
 
 TN the early spring of 1764 a family of emigrants 
 wended its way through the wilds of Pennsylvania 
 out to the almost unbroken West. It was the family 
 of a poor farmer, John Wetzel by name, from Lan- 
 caster, or its immediate vicinity, — an "up-country 
 Dutchman," of more than average intelligence, bent 
 on trying for a new home in the less claimed por- 
 tions of his Majesty's colonies. There was the wife — 
 a strong, helpful woman — and two children, — sons, 
 — the older two years of age, the younger perhaps 
 two months. 
 
 It is with this infant that this narrative has to do 
 — when he had become a man moving through stir- 
 ring scenes, a prominent figure, yet seeming alone 
 and aloof from others. This day, however, he lay 
 
 (9) 
 
10 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 with his mother at the bottom of the wagon which 
 contained all that belonged to his father, who drove 
 the pair of hardy asses that plodded patiently along 
 the heavy unkept roads, his two-year-old boy on the 
 seat beside him. 
 
 They had started early in the morning of this 
 bright spring day when all nature vied to keep and 
 hold them back : the birds sang the songs they had 
 known always ; the dear old-fashioned flowers beck- 
 oned them only to stay ; the dogs barked their re- 
 monstrances; the sad-eyed cows leaned over the 
 rails, or raised their heads from the juicy young 
 clover to low out a tender warning that though these 
 travelers went farther they would see little that could 
 claim their hearts so much as what they left behind. 
 
 There were also a few old men, with pipes in 
 their mouths, moving across the gardens; and the 
 sound of the heavy, rattling team brought pleasant- 
 faced women to the doors, and all had a word for 
 "the Wetzels" so fool-hardily turning their backs 
 upon old associations to face vague and untried 
 new. 
 
 But John Wetzel had ever been known as a stub- 
 born, self-willed man, hard to turn, and ever since 
 neighbors Eberly and Rosencranz had left for the 
 proposed settlement in the western part of Virginia, 
 he had chafed and looked with eyes averted on the 
 
FROM OLD THINGS UNTO NEW. U 
 
 smallness of his surroundings. He had neglected 
 his tiny place with its two hogs and one cow and 
 limited garden space, where only enough throve to 
 keep the little household in food. He had neglected 
 the tavern, where of evenings he used to make one 
 of the many who planned and plotted better ways 
 than were ever adopted to put down the Indians 
 that were reported to treat the far-off settlers so 
 shamefully, and whose depredations were not un- 
 known here. 
 
 He went about the place moody and gloomy, pay- 
 ing no attention to anything, only fretfully chafing 
 because of his environments. 
 
 " It's enough to kill his wife," asseverated neighbor 
 Trull's wife, "and her in her condition too! Drat 
 the man, he's a lune ! He'd far better be a-doing 
 something to put something in the mouths o' them 
 that's depending on him, than namby-pambying 
 around, as if he was rich as the Heisters. I've no 
 patience with him, for my part." 
 
 Yes, and it was his wife's condition that made him 
 so idle, that kept him from doing what he so longed 
 to do, and what a letter from neighbors Rosen cranz 
 and Eberly had impressed so strongly on his mind 
 that nothing could remove or efface it. 
 
 " I must wait ! I must wait !" he said impatiently. 
 "It's always the way with a man who sees his 
 
12 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 chance — he must wait. But in my case it can 
 hardly be helped." And he sighed, and went for a 
 long walk through places he had once loved, but 
 which were now hateful and monotonous to a man 
 who had imbibed suddenly a spirit of progress. 
 
 He waited weeks, he waited a whole month. 
 Then the wail of a baby's voice was heard in the 
 little house, and John Wetzel rejoiced. He waited 
 two weeks more, and then one day while in the 
 garden he looked up and saw his wife sitting by the 
 window of their own little chamber, looking happy 
 and bright, her face filled with mother-care. 
 
 He threw a little flower up to her. 
 
 *' Come up," she said. 
 
 He entered the room where she was, and said 
 kindly, but without preamble : " Wife, I have some- 
 thing to say to you which I have waited long weeks 
 to say. And — but now, to-day, you are strong again, 
 are you not?" 
 
 " Strong, John, with the grace of the Lord," she 
 replied. 
 
 " And you are strong enough to move ?" 
 
 "Move! and where to? — where can we move 
 to ?" 
 
 " There's land for the man who claims it — far away 
 towards the setting sun." 
 
 "Not amongst the Indians?" she cried in terror, 
 
FROM OLD THINGS UNTO N:EW. 13 
 
 placing her hand instinctively across the cradle 
 where her baby slept the rosy sleep of childhood. 
 
 " Why not?" asked her husband in return. "The 
 Indians are not God Almighty." 
 
 " John !" she gasped, " such profanity !" 
 
 " No profanity," he returned. " The profanity is 
 in the fear we have for men who are only like myself; 
 less than myself, because of their ignorance and per- 
 fidy and untruth. We place them on a plane with 
 Deity in fearing them." 
 
 " Or demons." 
 
 " We should not fear the devil and his works." 
 
 " Oh, husband !" she cried, for in her eyes this was 
 tempting the spirit of ill. 
 
 " This is neither here nor there," he went on, with 
 a light in his e^^es which the wives of strong men 
 learn to know as a part of their husbands not to be 
 tampered with ; " the question is, will you go ? You 
 know how it is here — how poor we are, how restless 
 I have ever been. Will you accept the profusion of 
 the Lord, spread out for us for the accepting? 
 Either we go, or others will — if not now, then at 
 some future time." 
 
 " Nobody we know will ever go out to the wild 
 Indian country," she insisted. 
 
 " We will, if you trust your husband," he rejoined, 
 and turned to leave the room. 
 
 2 
 
14 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 As he went out by the narrow door he felt a soft 
 touch on his face. His wife had hurriedly snatched 
 the baby from its cradle and placed its flushed cheek 
 to its father's. He turned to her. 
 
 " This child will be poor as I am," he said bitterly, 
 " or rich with plenty. It is for you to decide." 
 
 " No," she answered, " it is for you to say. I am 
 only a weak woman, but I trust my husband with 
 the strength of all women." 
 
 " And you will go ?" 
 
 " * Whither thou goest, I will go ; and where thou 
 lodgest I will lodge,' " she said softly, and laid her 
 baby closer yet to him. 
 
 So it came to be known in the place that the 
 "Wetzel family was absolutely proposing to emigrate 
 just so soon as the baby was old enough to go on 
 the long journey, which would be when two moons 
 had rolled over its head. Every obstacle was 
 paraded before the man who desired to better him- 
 self at the expense of personal comfort and the 
 severance of familiar ties; sentiment was imme- 
 diately called into play : and the bones of his ances- 
 tors, lying in the adjacent graveyards, were conjured 
 up before him, how those bones might naturally 
 be expected to "turn" in their kindred earth, did 
 they know of this flagrant breach and go-ahead-at- 
 iveness on the part of a fool-hardy descendant not 
 content to let well-enough alone 1 
 
FROM OLD THINGS UNTO NEW. 15 
 
 A stern, stout, red-faced man came to the tavern 
 and proclaimed: "I am a justice of the peace, friend 
 John Wetzel, so listen to me. Ahem !" 
 
 "Yes, listen to the justice of the peace," cried all 
 the idlers in the place, crowding around. The stout 
 man hemmed. 
 
 " Your native place should suffice you," he said 
 sententiously. 
 
 " It does ; but I want more of it," responded John 
 Wetzel. 
 
 "He wants more of it!" said the chorus of idlers, 
 lost in astonishment; for they had never wanted 
 more of it, and were content to live on half a head 
 of cabbage when they could not get a whole, so that 
 they only had a right to complain of the crops, and 
 how it never rained when it should rain, or if it did 
 rain it simply poured and ruined everything. 
 
 The stout man looked more a justice of the 
 peace every second, and after the chorus had sub- 
 sided into silence he brought a heavy look to bear 
 on John Wetzel. Sentiment had failed ; now cogent 
 reasoning should be employed. 
 
 "I am a justice of the peace," he went on, "and 
 I am supposed to represent wisdom — that is, I am a 
 reasoner. Ahem I" 
 
 The chorus only looked at each other j this was 
 going beyond them. 
 
16 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The justice of the peace now looked like a prime 
 minister. 
 
 "Conceded I am wise, am I, then, fit to argify 
 with you in this foolish determination of yours?" 
 
 The chorus was dumb. 
 
 John Wetzel was as dumb as the others. 
 
 With a look fit for a king, and a voice of thunder, 
 the justice of the peace, throwing up his hand, said: 
 " John Wetzel, I am wise. Are you ? You go away 
 from all you know, out to wild lands which — which 
 — you do not know. You leave a house for — for 
 — no house. For pleasant grunting hogs, fit for 
 sausages and — and — other things, you will have 
 buffaloes and — and — other things. For cows that 
 yield streams of peaceful milk that oozes with 
 richness, you will have buzzards and — and — things 
 that yield no milk at all. Your wife — your wifcy 
 John" (here the justice of the peace got a quavering 
 in his throat); "and your son Martin, John; and 
 your baby Lewis, John — oh, upon what will they 
 subsist? Can they make buzzard savory? Can 
 they drink Indian ? Nay, John, you will not, cannot 
 go. I am wise; I cannot help being so. His Majesty 
 may have heard of me. But are you wise ?" 
 
 " Are you wise ?" echoed the chorus. 
 
 " I never set up for a wiseacre," said John Wetzel, 
 smiling, and moving towards the door. 
 
FROM OLD THINGS UNTO NEW. 17 
 
 " Yea, John," said the justice, " we cannot all be 
 so. But it is conceded that I am wise, and " 
 
 "The great Paul saith," went on John Wetzel, 
 still moving towards the door, " the great Paul saith, 
 * If any man among you seemeth to be wise in this 
 world, let him become a fool that he may be wise.' " 
 
 The justice of the peace, stared as who should ask 
 if the world had come to an end, and looking very 
 much like a justice of the peace after all, sank back 
 into his chair at the head of the table, muttering 
 feebly : " A fool ! wise !" and closed his eyes. 
 
 "A fool! wise!" gasped the chorus, and began 
 to think that Saint Paul as well as John Wetzel 
 had much to answer for in saying such harrowing 
 things of the justice of the peace. 
 
 " Where is he?" asked the justice, reviving. 
 
 "Saint Paul, your Honor?" returned one. 
 
 " Out upon you for a malefactor !" cried his Honor. 
 "Where is the man John W^etzel, the reprobate?" 
 
 But no one could answer just then, for the door 
 had swung open and shut again, and he was not 
 there. Some one pulled aside the curtain, and they 
 saw him striding on towards his home with the step 
 of a boy. 
 
 But the justice of the peace was highly respected, 
 and it seemed that Saint Paul had questioned his 
 authority and dignity, and in so doing had been 
 
18 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 represented by John Wetzel. As the principal could 
 not be touched, the representative was held an- 
 swerable. So, very few people came to the Wetzels 
 during their preparations for removal, and on the 
 last day of their stay nobody but little Grizzle 
 Heister came to say farewell. Grizzle was only four- 
 teen or fifteen, a mere chit; but she cried a good 
 deal. She had something in her pocket which 
 bulged out. She kissed Mrs. Wetzel, and cried ; she 
 kissed little Martin, and cried. Over the baby she 
 broke down completely. 
 
 "Oh, the Injuns will eat him," she wept; "the 
 awful Injuns !" 
 
 " Or he'll eat the Injuns," grinned John Wetzel, 
 now all animation and life. 
 
 " And his clothes '11 wear out, and he won't have 
 anything but bear-skin to wear," said Grizzle. 
 
 " Bear-skin 's warm," grinned John Wetzel. 
 
 " He shan't wear bear-skin," shrieked Grizzle, "for 
 I've brought this. It was in father's private room, 
 and he gave it to me when I told him what it was 
 for. Here! let me wrap it around little Lewis to 
 keep him warm." 
 
 " This" was a small flag of Great Britain, and the 
 baby looked gay in it. 
 
 " You've made an Indian of him already. Griz- 
 zle," said John Wetzel, " with all the bright red. 
 
FBOM OLD THINGS UNTO NEW. 19 
 
 Yes, he can wear the flag of his country, though 
 the flag never waved over much that he dared call 
 his own." John Wetzel 'w^as one of those discon- 
 tented colonists who did not feel glad at being 
 oppressed. 
 
 So Grizzle went away, and the sun sank upon the 
 last day of the Wetzel s' stay here. 
 
 In the early morning they were on their way. 
 When all the pleasant familiar scene burst upon the 
 eyes of the adventurous man, who knows what his 
 feelings were ! 
 
 " Wife," he said once, holding in the team, " come 
 sit here in front, for a last look." 
 
 She came out with her baby on her arm and sat 
 beside her husband. She looked over the smiling 
 landscape, over all she knew so well, all that she 
 had ever known and loved. Then she looked into 
 her husband's eyes. 
 
 "Must it be?" she asked tremulously. "Must 
 it be?" 
 
 " The free land calls us," he answered, waving his 
 hand westward. " Must it be, wife?" 
 
 " It must be !" she said, with compressed lips. 
 
 " Get up 1" he cried to the team, and they were on 
 their way again. 
 
 His wife still sat on the front seat of the wagon. 
 She wiped her ej^es once or twice, then she fairly 
 broke down, hiding her face in her baby. 
 
20 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "That is no way to conquer rebellion," remon- 
 strated her husband; "and we go out to conquer, 
 not give in." 
 
 " It shall never be again," she said, and it never 
 again occurred while he was alive. She was remov- 
 ing something from about her baby's shoulders. "My 
 tears have wetted all the pretty flag," she continued. 
 It was Grizzle Heister's gift, all sodden with the 
 mother's tears. 
 
 " That flag has caused too many tears," said John 
 Wetzel sententiously. " We will have it no longer, 
 the ugly rag." And he tore it from the child and 
 threw it into the dust at the feet of his team, with a 
 look of contempt on his face that his wife could not 
 understand. 
 
 There were few to prophesy of that more beautiful 
 flag of thirteen alternate white and red stripes with 
 " a union of thirteen stars, white on a blue ground, 
 representing a new constellation," the flrst represen- 
 tative of which was to be made in the shop of Betsy 
 Eoss, in Philadelphia, when the little Lewis should 
 be thirteen years of age. 
 
 But little knew John Wetzel of this as on his way 
 to Wheeling Creek he conveyed his family that day 
 from the old home they were never to know again. 
 
 Days and nights came down as the heavy wagon 
 moved on slowly through the almost untrodden 
 
FROM OLD THINGS UNTO NEW. 21 
 
 wilderness. The cry of wolves became of little 
 account as farther and farther the patient asses 
 took forward the little group. The strange herbage 
 of the wilderness replaced the smiling fields and 
 fragrant homely flower-gardens. 
 
 The peculiar freedom of everything around them 
 insensibly crept over the husband and wife. The 
 little boy in the wagon cried to get out for the 
 pretty grasses, and walked along beside the wagon 
 happy and free. The baby looked out on the sunny 
 landscape and crowed. There were no poor men 
 here, there were no rich men : all were alike. Every 
 man was Adam ; every woman, Eve. Abel lived in 
 every little child, and Cain had not yet learned to 
 be dissatisfied with the reception of his sacrifice. 
 
22 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 A CHILDHOOD. 
 
 JOHN WETZEL, going out with the determina- 
 tion to conquer difSiculties, seemed to court those 
 which were almost insuperable. 
 
 " Settle with us here, on Wheeling Creek," urged 
 his old neighbor Eberly. 
 
 "No," he replied, "there are too many here 
 already. I'm going farther up." 
 
 " But the danger " 
 
 "Had I been afraid of danger I should never 
 have come here. There seems to me more danger 
 of staying with men than with nature." 
 
 " Then Indians will be your nature." 
 
 "I know very little about Indians. I know a 
 good deal about white men." 
 
 " You are a strange man, Wetzel." 
 
 " I am as I am," he returned. 
 
 "And you do not see the wisdom of settling with 
 us here?" 
 
 " I do not see the wisdom : it may be yours ; it is 
 not mine." 
 
A CHILDHOOD. 23 
 
 " Good-bye !" they shouted after his wagon. 
 
 " Good-bye I" he replied, and the asses moved on, 
 and trod down the long grasses, and the few settlers 
 after awhile lost sight of the wagon. 
 
 For miles the hardy man went on, and at last 
 sighted a spot that pleased him. It was on Big 
 Wheeling, fourteen miles from the river. 
 
 " Ycu are not afraid?" asked he of his wife, as she 
 stepped from the wagon and looked around her. 
 
 "What is there to be afraid of?" she asked in 
 return, holding her baby closer to her. 
 
 " Nothing but want, such as we have left behind 
 us," he answered. 
 
 She put her baby in the wagon with its little 
 brother, and set about making a fire and preparing 
 their meal. 
 
 They lived in the wagon for days, until a rude 
 cabin had been erected by Wetzel, at which his wife 
 was not behind-hand in assisting. In two weeks 
 they were domiciled in a hom'e. 
 
 " Thank God," said John Wetzel reverently, " we 
 are free !" 
 
 If loneliness is sjrnonymous with freedom, they 
 were indeed free. The spot on which the cabin 
 stood v\'as the most exposed imaginable, on every 
 side open to incursions from Indians, were they bent 
 on hostility. The family was wholly beyond the 
 
24 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 reach of any prompt aid from the settlement and 
 fort at Wheeling, should succor be needed. 
 
 But in a little while they made up their minds 
 that they needed no aid. They had left the pent-in 
 life of poverty behind them, and now they reveled 
 in the wealth and prodigality of nature. Their lack 
 of fear created a lack of caution. And in this cabin, 
 so far removed from any signs of civilized life, they 
 set about beginning life anew. It was a happy life 
 for months, for years. They rarely saw any white 
 man. An Indian now and then stopped at the door, 
 accepted some tobacco, and moved off. Sometimes 
 a stray squaw would come up with dried venison to 
 trade for powder, and would ask to hold the papooses 
 a little while. Then in fiercely cold weather even 
 these failed. For months at a time no human being: 
 approached them. The husband and father at rare 
 intervals went to Wheeling for necessary supplies: 
 his wife never w^ent, never had any desire to go. 
 Her time was crowded with duties. Her little fam- 
 ily gradually became a large one; five children 
 were born here — Jacob, John, and George, and two 
 daughters, Susan and Christina. 
 
 The father, too, had little time for visiting: his 
 children were all too young to be of any assistance 
 to him,, and he was in a place where everything 
 must come from personal exertion. 
 
A CHILDHOOD. 25 
 
 Towards the end of the fourth year the Indian 
 visits were more frequent, and his herd was often 
 stolen from him by night. Then, too, the braves 
 were impudent, and their insults were often very 
 gross. 
 
 He was also largely engaged in locating lands, 
 and his frequent excursions into the wilds for this 
 purpose constantly exposed him to attacks from 
 hostile tribes, which, however, he seems to have 
 escaped. He had experienced poverty, and to fight 
 that off had been hard enough; now he was aiming 
 at wealth and ease for his children, and for all he 
 cared the exertion he had expended to thwart pov- 
 erty might be increased a hundred-fold in the 
 acquirement of plenty. 
 
 The Indian wars were in full rage after he had 
 been here a few years, and nearer and nearer to him 
 came the depredations of the savages. 
 
 " But I will not give in," he said. He gathered 
 about him a numerous company of wild horses, 
 reclaimed from savage state by arduous toil, and 
 though these were often preyed upon by the Indians, 
 he took it in good part. 
 
 " This was Indian land," he said, " and they let it 
 go to waste. These horses they thought useless, but 
 I reclaimed them. Now they claim but their own." 
 
 And the wife's labors ! She cared for nothing else 
 
26 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 but her family, and often left alone became reckless 
 as her husband. She made deer-skin clothes for her 
 husband and boys, and from the scanty supply of 
 wool their few sheep yielded she spun and wove 
 cloth for herself and her little girls. 
 
 The land produced little at first, because of their 
 small means to procure the necessary implements to 
 cultivate it, and often their few fowls were raided on, 
 and there was but milk for food. Even that some- 
 times failed, or the cows got astray. In the latter 
 case she would listen for the tinkling of the bells, 
 and hearing them at a great distance in that im- 
 mense solitude she would tie her babies in bed, her 
 older children to the door-jamb, to keep them from 
 being hurt or straying after her, and went herself in 
 search of the cattle, and maybe hours would elapse 
 before she brought them home, hoping that in the 
 interval no hostile Indian had paid a visit to her 
 cabin. The wolves, too, in hard winters, when they 
 were famished and desperate, troubled her : often at 
 night she used to bar the hou^e, and sit beside the 
 chimney feeding the fire with pine logs to keep the 
 beasts at bay, her children sleeping on the floor 
 around her, her husband she knew not where, nor 
 whether alive or dead, the howls of the creatures 
 outside^ and their scratching at the ill-made door 
 urging her on to make a fiercer, hotter fire, and not 
 to sleep nor relax her vigilance a minute. 
 
A CHILDHOOD, 27 
 
 This was the home-rearing of Lewis Wetzel. It 
 was breathing this atmosphere of daring that made 
 him an object of terror to the bands of restless sav- 
 ages which roamed about the frontier homes, — a 
 man without fear (as he was known to be), — a veri- 
 table tower of strength unto the infant settlements 
 springing up around him. 
 
 For Lewis Wetzel came to be considered the right 
 arm of defense by many of the settlers in the vicin- 
 ity of Wheeling, and while he w^as never known to 
 inflict any cruelty upon women or children, as has 
 been charged to him, he was revengeful, with a 
 deathless hatred, upon the Indians, because he had 
 suffered an injury at their hands, the sense of 
 which left him not a moment throughout his life, 
 and which in time debarred him from the comforts 
 and satisfaction of friends and lovers. He called 
 himself an Indian hunter, as other men call them- 
 selves bear-hunters, snake-hunters, and the like; 
 and while he would pass over a sleeping animal 
 which it might have been death to him to pass 
 by, and was in his power to procure immunity by 
 killing, he never forgave a single Indian for the 
 wrong he had sustained at the hands of a few. He 
 put reason to shame, and called his wrong his 
 reason. 
 
 He hated Logan, that noble man ; he hated his 
 
28 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 eloquence, and thought of him only as he thought 
 of thfe veriest cut-throat in the Delaware or any 
 other tribe with which he was daily brought in 
 contact. 
 
 In his earliest youth he heard all the hopeful 
 stories of Indian kindness, — how friendly tribes, 
 meeting white settlers, took them to their camping- 
 grounds, feasted them, treated them with all atten- 
 tion, asked no questions, as the code of Indians is, 
 loaded them with presents, and let them go. He 
 knew of the fortitude of the young Indian chiefs, — 
 how much they were compelled to bear, how much 
 torture they w^ere to undergo before they were 
 adjudged competent to call themselves leaders. 
 A chief had once come to his father's cabin and 
 called the Bible the talking leaves, and looked with 
 awe at his mother as she read aloud the language 
 of Christ speaking to her from the yellow and 
 weather-beaten volume with all the tender love and 
 care the disciples of old knew. He knew that prior 
 to the intercourse of the Indians with the Euro- 
 peans their weapons had been bows and arrows, 
 clubs and tomahawks, and spears of wood, curiously 
 ornamented with stones and shells; but that after 
 they had begun traffic with the foreigners their 
 rude weapons were laid aside for those of iron and 
 other metals, and that before the commencement of 
 
A CHILDHOOD. 29 
 
 the war with Philip, though the trade was strictly 
 restrained by the government of the Provinces, the 
 Indians had gotten many fire-arms, and learned 
 how to use them, and not alone upon beasts of prey. 
 He knew that many atrocities, attributed to the 
 wandering tribes were committed by renegade white 
 men, who joined with the tribes for pilfer and car- 
 nage. He knew all this in his earliest boyhood, 
 and had no hatred for the Indians, because his 
 wrong had not yet come to dry up the fountain of 
 kindly feeling for a mysterious race indigenous to 
 the land they claimed for their own, — a race noble 
 from very recklessness, claiming what they called 
 theirs by right of precedence, and whose wild 
 blood, like that of their bisons, refused to be tamed, 
 or, tamed, was not to be trusted, because the wont 
 of unchained freedom was liable to vent itself in 
 fierce deviltry, when once the taming process had 
 taught it cringing and deceit. 
 
 When his father's land-claims were becoming 
 more and more extended, and he was oftener than 
 ever brought into contact with the Indians who 
 threatened to become hostile, little Lewis Wetzel 
 looked on and listened, amused and entertained. 
 When his father returned from any of his excursions, 
 he would gather the children around him, and tell 
 them the comic situations his prowess had led him 
 
30 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 into ; and as Indians always largely figured in these 
 narrations the most august chiefs were looked upon 
 by tlie small folks of the family as court fools. And 
 no hatred is ever bestowed upon that which gives us 
 amusement; there might have been disdain, but 
 surely not so great a passion as hate. 
 
 And when the father went on any of his quests, 
 the children, standing in the little enclosure, w^ould 
 remind him not to come home without a fresh 
 supply of " Injun tales," the fairy-stories of children 
 of wild life. 
 
 It was always Lewis who called loudest, who 
 ventured farther from the clearing w4th his father. 
 For a great love had sprung up in the boy for the 
 father who had waited until he was born, so that he 
 could go away from old troubles and want and 
 poverty's trials. It was Lewis w^ho saw his father 
 before the others did, watching for him at a little 
 knoll a quarter of a mile from the house. It was 
 Lewis who went to the Monongahela for fish for the 
 expected father, who often came a month later than 
 promised. The chair for father was always placed 
 by Lewis; the hottest potatoes allotted to his share. 
 The boy, hearing of the revoUing colonies, had his 
 father explain to him the right and wrong of it all. 
 
 " Oh, if I could go I" he said. " There are boys as 
 young there ?" 
 
A CHILDHOOD. 31 
 
 Yet when the father was eager to join the " rebels" 
 it was Lewis who cried : 
 
 ' No, no, no ! Mother and the children need you 
 — I need you." 
 
 When the father had once been to Wheeling, and 
 came home with the startling news that the flag 
 which had long been representative of his Majesty's 
 dominion was now everywhere wildly torn down and 
 dishonored, it was Lewis who heard it from the 
 father first and retailed it to the brothers and sisters 
 with the pleasing reflection that Grizzle Heister's 
 gift long before had been dishonored. 
 
 And when once an Indian, claiming a hundred 
 horses of his father, had been refused, and declared 
 vengeance^ in consequence, it was Lewis who threw 
 a stone for the indignity offered to his father by the 
 great, magnificent man. 
 
 "My white brother had houses and lands and 
 beasts; why should he take the red man's?" the 
 Indian asked. 
 
 "My red brother is nfistaken," answered John 
 Wetzel; "for I have taken nothing belonging to 
 him. These horses were wild and unclaimed by my 
 red brother, till I took them and trained and tamed 
 them and found a market lor them. Surely, they 
 mine." 
 My white brother shall have two hundred wild 
 
32 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 horses for his hundred tame ones, if he will but give 
 them to me." 
 
 " Why should my red brother give more of his 
 property for what he claims as his. Surely, he is 
 mistaken." 
 
 "My white brother has the talking hand. I 
 cannot compete with his slyness. He has stolen 
 our beasts, he has stolen our strength. The white 
 man has come and turned us away from our own. 
 The white man has stolen the red man's land ; the 
 red man will steal the landlord's," concluded the 
 baffled Indian, striding away. 
 
 "Nothing has been stolen," cried John Wetzel 
 after the retreating figure. " The red man threw 
 away, and what he threw away the white man 
 picked up." 
 
 The Indian gave him a significant look of scorn ; 
 how could he understand this logic ? 
 
 What seemed to be a small affair was the begin- 
 ning of almost ceaseless warfare. Egged on by a 
 few Indians who had b^en aiding the British, and 
 who had now deserted and come to their old forest 
 fastnesses, the hitherto peaceable red men held John 
 Wetzel and the other settlers in a constant state of 
 siege. But it was only as play to the children. 
 Martin and Lewis AVetzel had mimic fights between 
 them, representing the Indian's and the white man's 
 mode of warfare. 
 
A CHILDHOOD. 33 
 
 The two boys had educated themselves in all the 
 slyness of the savages. Martin was now fifteen 
 years of age, Lewis thirteen, Jacob eleven, John 
 nine. 
 
 Yet the fun of the boys was the burlesque of 
 tragedies. The Indians came nearer and nearer, 
 were openly hostile, and fired on any of the little 
 party that ventured beyond their own reserve. 
 
 In the midst of the now frequently-recurring 
 attacks, Lewis was stricken down with small-pox, 
 and his brothers and sisters contracted it from him. 
 With this dreadful contagion, with a scarcity of 
 provisions, and murderous Indians lying in wait, 
 the sum of human misery might by some women 
 be said to be complete. But John Wetzel's wife was 
 not such a woman ; she nursed her children, col- 
 lected food somehow, and helped barricade the inse- 
 cure cabin, for the cabin had never been thoroughly 
 finished, as with these early settlers there were 
 always so many more necessary and useful things to 
 claim the attention of the husband and father. She 
 had her cows brought nearer the hofise, her sheep 
 tethered, and she watched. John Wetzel did not 
 venture out so frequently now as formerly, but 
 remained at home and protected his family. Almost 
 dail}^, fierce, bright eyes could be seen lurking in 
 the bushes, and the muzzle of a musket more than 
 
34 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 once was detected in the leaves of a tree. At night- 
 time the wolves howled as ever, but it was not 
 certain that human voices did not utter some of the 
 wolves' tones, or that the scraping at the door was 
 not a wary Indian looking on the group within. 
 
 The tragedy was coming that turned Lewis Wetzel 
 from peace and tenderness into an Indian scout; 
 that earned for him the sobriquet of "Hunting 
 Dog ;" that embittered his life and left him little 
 time for aught but revenge. Yet at this time he 
 was a happy child, just recovering from a long 
 illness, lying securely in his flock -bed at night, or 
 gazing up the wide-mouthed chimney during the 
 summer darkness, counting the twinkling stars and 
 listening with awe to the sounds outside, and him- 
 self and his brothers and sisters telling stories of 
 bad spirits of bad Indians, who, debarred the pleas- 
 ures of the happy hunting-ground, remained upon 
 the earth cruelly to keep little white children wide 
 awake, and, shining like pretty, quivering lights, to 
 lead them f^om their homes into deep bogs and 
 quagmires. 
 
THE BEAR. 35 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE BEAR. 
 
 O URELY, at this time, John Wetzel, with all his 
 bravery, must in his heart have regretted that 
 he had always disdained the usual precaution of 
 settlers, — that of placing his family in one of the 
 stations or forts, instead of carrying them into the 
 thick of dangers that threatened them on all sides 
 w^hen he was absent from them. During these 
 absences, towards the last, he constantly found that 
 he w^as fearing for their safety, yet the next minute 
 trying to laugh away his fear and to persuade him- 
 self that they were safe, because of the very lack of 
 precaution to protect them, knowing that the red foe 
 sought their enemies, expecting to find them pro- 
 tected by the mass, and not in exposed, isolated 
 cases ; for the Indians had hitherto felt assured that 
 those brave enough to be fearless were friends. 
 Though at present he remained more than ever in 
 his clearing, yet there were times when he must be 
 away. In the fly season, his horses, maddened by 
 the stings of the gauzy-winged creatures, broke from 
 
36 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 their fastenings and scampered througli the high 
 grasses and took to the Monongahela. The water 
 offered no obstacle whatever to them ; they swam 
 away, threatened every minute with being sca-ttered 
 and the band broken and dismayed. He was often 
 away for days on the mission of gathering the half- 
 broken beasts together again. Then he had his 
 sheep and cows to look after, and on account of the 
 loose sheds he had erected for them, and which he 
 now had no time to strengthen, there was always a 
 likelihood of their straying away. Again, he burned 
 for news as to the progress of the fight of the people 
 against all England, and he would hurry to the 
 settlements for tidings. The country in revolt, 
 bands of desperadoes creating havoc all around 
 him, his little clearing and hut had miraculously 
 escaped visitation. Yet every day made him more 
 apprehensive for its safety, and his fearded him into 
 the recklessness of seeking in the far settlements for 
 news, leaving his wife and children unprotected till 
 his return. 
 
 " They are in God's hand," he would say, " whether 
 I am near or far." 
 
 His wife might have pleaded now for removal, for 
 the time being, to. a settlement; but she knew little 
 or nothing of what was going on so near home; and, 
 strange as it may appear, so close to scenes of world- 
 
THE BEAR, 87 
 
 wide import, she was as far away from them in 
 thought as though they had not been. She had her 
 home to think of; that was enough for her. She 
 had to try and instill her little knowledge into the 
 minds of her children, to teach them to read from 
 the old Bible, and to tell them that the wide-rolling 
 country around them did not constitute all of the 
 world. Her husband had always protected her, and 
 now he told her little or nothing of wdiat he heard 
 at the forts or settlements. It boded only for her 
 good. However, when he went away now, he would 
 caution Martin to keep a wary eye on the place. 
 
 "Why should you caution him now more than 
 formerly ?" his wife would ask. 
 
 " Because Martin is fifteen years old now," replied 
 her husband ; " almost a man, and he should know 
 some of a man's responsibilities. Suppose anything 
 should happen to me, who would be left but Martin 
 to look after things ?" 
 
 " Oh, husband !" cried the wife, alarmed at such a 
 possibility. 
 
 " But there is the possibility," he said. " And all 
 the same, Martin must look after the affairs at home 
 now when I am called away. When any danger 
 arises " 
 
 " What danger can there be ?" she asked. 
 
 He dared not tell her. But w^hen he was on his 
 4 
 
38 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 way home he would look, his heart in his throat, 
 for the first sign of life and peace. And that first 
 sign would usually be Lewis on the knoll waiting 
 for him. Thus until the close of the summer of 
 1777. The woods around were beginning to soften 
 into mellow tints, the songs of birds were fewer, the 
 rich, aromatic haze of dying summer was over all 
 thq landscape like a soft, iridescent veil. The corn 
 stubble glistened with dew of early morning, and 
 the crickets were bold and made music pleasant to 
 the peaceful housewife, as she went about her multi- 
 farious duties. 
 
 It was the last part of August. One day John 
 Wetzel made up his mind to go to Wheeling for 
 news. He had not been away from home for a 
 month, and he was anxious to know what was 
 going on in the outer world away from his little 
 cabin, and how the fight was going, if for the 
 British or the colonists. 
 
 A herdsman after a stray flock had come to the 
 cabin one night lately and told him that there were 
 rumors that the fight promised to be a long one, 
 and that eventually all the rebelling colonists would 
 be shot down by his Majesty's troops, who were now 
 in New York preparing for a general wi ping-out of 
 the whole system and the organization of a new. 
 
 The herdsman had also told how the report ran 
 
THE BEAR. 39 
 
 that the Indians had been called in by the British 
 in this work of extermination, first as guides in the 
 wild parts of the country, then as partisans. 
 
 This last piece of startling news determined John 
 AYetzel : he knew what the war would be if the 
 hostile Indians took part in it; he must know more. 
 
 While the herdsman was talking, he looked over 
 to his wife. No, she had not heard. She was busy 
 with the children and the Bible. The little group 
 was all about her knees learning the wondrous story 
 of the wars of old, of King David, of wise Solomon, 
 and the brave women of the times. 
 
 The soughing of the wind outside w^as very pleas- 
 ant to listen to, and far to the north there w^as a 
 faint crystalline line of light which proclaimed the 
 advent of cooler weather, — the northern lights, the 
 aurora borealis. 
 
 " Wife," he said suddenly, " I think I will take a 
 run up to Wheeling the coming week." 
 
 " Very well," was all she answered, and went on 
 with the old stories. 
 
 So she knew nothing Of the herdsman's talk. 
 
 In the following week John Wetzel went away. 
 
 His eyes were about him looking inquisitively at 
 every tree, every clump of bushes. But all was as 
 usual. 
 
 He was away two days. 
 
40 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 In those two days he had found ample corrobora- 
 tion of the herdsman's story, and his face was set 
 and stern as he wended his way towards his cabin. 
 
 In that lonely ride home undoubtedly he made 
 up his mind that now at last he must take his 
 family somewhere for more protection than he could 
 afford them. Filled with the tales of horror he had 
 heard at Wheeling, he left the place, full of fear for 
 his family. Yet as he plodded along on his horse 
 and got farther into the country, and saw all nature 
 at peace, not a sign of change, his fears insensibly 
 grew weaker. 
 
 When he came to his clearing and saw afar off 
 his little son on the green knoll, he laughed at his 
 weak dread. His wife was at the door when he 
 came up. 
 
 "Well," he said cheerfully, "back again. No 
 news, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Why, yes," she answered ; "old Crumply over- 
 turned the milk-pail last evening, and the speckled 
 hen was caught in the briars." 
 
 "Too bad," he rejoined. 
 
 "Yes," she went on, " and that old bear that came 
 in last winter and went up to the fire and warmed 
 himself, and you w^ould not have him turned out — 
 well, he's been here again this morning, and he was 
 in the bushes outside the cow-shed, his old nose 
 poked here and there." 
 
THE BEAR. 41 
 
 " I don't think lie looked like the old bear, but he 
 was the same color," spoke up Lewis. 
 
 So the news was chronicled. 
 
 And all that came of it was that John Wetzel 
 determined to kill the bear in order to keep him 
 from becoming too familiar. 
 
 " Give me his skin," said Martin. 
 
 But Lewis was looking out towards the bushes 
 and said iiothing. 
 
 " Hang it !" exclaimed the father all at once, "what 
 do you think I've forgotten to get at Wheeling?" 
 
 " Your head ?" asked his wife. 
 
 "Something as important — powder. The first 
 time I ever did such a thing. The news there clean 
 upset me " 
 
 "What news?" 
 
 " iS'ews ! Oh, nothing much. I must start again 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Then, father, take the girls with you, and let 
 them stay with Tom Madison's folks. There's Berta 
 Rosencranz, a likely girl, would like to have them, 
 I'm sure. You know you've always promised to 
 take them." 
 
 " Can you have them ready in time?" 
 
 " Ready ! Listen to him, now. Come, boys, help 
 get this carpet-bag filled." 
 
 In the small cabin all was excitement to get tho 
 
42 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 little ones ready for the exhilarating trip. There 
 was bread to bake, so that they might have some 
 loaves, and long light spongy cakes to eat on the 
 way, and a bottle of milk was to be tied around the 
 neck of each. 
 
 Next morning the father and the little girls went 
 away, — at the last minute little John crying so hard 
 to go with them that he was packed off too. 
 
 It was lonely in the cabin without them, and 
 Martin wandered off w^ith his gun. But Lewis 
 stayed. 
 
 "Why don't you go with your brother?" asked 
 their mother of him. 
 
 " I don't want to go," he answered. 
 
 " The first time you ever felt that w^ay. Are you 
 sick ?" she asked. 
 
 " No," he answered, and went and sat outside the 
 door, his face towards the clump of bushes. Nearly 
 all day he sat there. The next morning he took up 
 his post there again. 
 
 " He's fretting for father," commented his mother, 
 watching him. 
 
 Towards sundown John Wetzel, with his powder, 
 came up to the door. 
 
 "I missed you from the knoll, Lewis, lad," he 
 said. The mother made her explanation. 
 
 " I wasn't fretting about father," cried Lewis, " for 
 
THE BEAR. 43 
 
 father's brave. I only fret about the weak ones, — 
 the girls." 
 
 " Oh, ho ! it was the girls, was it ?" 
 
 And Lewis made no answer. 
 
 "And now how is the bear?" asked the father, 
 laying down his powder. 
 
 " I watched for him," said Martin, " but I didn't 
 get a chance at him." 
 
 " A chance !" 
 
 " Father, he dodged me when he saw me." 
 
 " That's a queer bear," said John Wetzel. 
 
 " I don't think it is a bear," said Lewis, speaking 
 for the first time. 
 
 " What do you think it is, old man ?" asked his 
 father laughing. " A whale, maybe ? Did you see 
 his skin ?" 
 
 " It's a bear-skin," replied the boy. 
 
 " A bear-skin carries a bear," said the father. 
 
 " I don't think it's a bear," reiterated Lewis. 
 
 " What do you think it is, then ?" . 
 
 "An Indian, with the bear's skin." 
 
 " Lewis !" cried his mother shrilly, " what do you 
 mean by such nonsense ? An Indian, indeed ! If 
 it's an Indian, why should he hide out there, you 
 foolish boy?" 
 
 " He saw me watching him." 
 
 "You're dreaming," said his mother. But the 
 father said nothing. 
 
44 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 John Wetzel, when night settled down dimmer 
 and darker, fastened the door securely, and for the 
 first time in many months. His wife was astonished 
 at his timidity, and laughed at him. 
 " And only a Lear," she said. 
 
 She took up her station beside the fire, which felt 
 very comfortable this chilly evening. Her husband 
 sat on the opposite side of the fire, shading his face 
 with his hand. The boys gathered about their 
 mother, and soon the quaint old story of the wars 
 of the Bible sounded through the place. All was 
 peace and gentleness. 
 
 " Hark !" said the father once. 
 "What is it?" asked his wife pausing, with her 
 finger on the word at which she had stopped. 
 
 " Go on," he said ; " it was only a rustling out- 
 side." 
 
 "Why, John," she cried merrily, "you are as 
 nervous as a cat. What is the matter with you? 
 If this comes of going to the settlements, you'd 
 better remain at home." 
 
 She took up her reading once more. For perhaps 
 fifteen minutes she read aloud, the light of the 
 hre shining on the page before her, and making 
 huge sliadows in the place, when an exclamation 
 from Lewis attracted her. She looked up ; her 
 husband had gone from the fire-place, and was 
 over against the door, his eye at a knot-hole there. 
 
THE BEAR. 45 
 
 "Why, John," she began. 
 
 " Hush !" he whispered. 
 
 There was a rustling outside the door, and a pres- 
 sure against it. She laughed. 
 
 " It's the old bear," she said, " and you ought to 
 be ashamed of yourself to be thus easily scared." 
 
 " Come here," he said. 
 
 She went to him, and, guided by him, placed her 
 eye to the knot-hole. Outside, one by one, tall 
 shadows passed by the door. There must have been 
 twenty-five shadows. Each shadow as it went along 
 pressed softly up to the door, then joined the other 
 shadows collected a little apart from the house in an 
 ominous company. 
 
 "What is it?" she whispered, aw^e in her voice. 
 
 " Indians !" he whispered in reply. 
 
 " But why dp they come thus ?" 
 
 "Wait!" 
 
 They had not long to w^ait. The shadows again 
 separated, and went to the back of the cabin. There 
 came a wierd, soft tramp in the night, a soft tramp 
 that carried a grim purpose with it. There came a 
 burst at the door, and a plank gave way. Through 
 the opening made thus John Wetzel fired his gun. 
 There was a shriek outside. 
 
 "What have you done?" wailed his wife, wring- 
 ing her hands. 
 
46 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "Murder!" he said, "and they will do more." 
 
 She ran back to her boys, and clasped them to 
 her, wildly praying to the Supreme Power to guard 
 them from all harm. She looked at her husband ; 
 he was white as death. 
 
 " You cannot hold out against them," she said. 
 
 " No," he answered. 
 
 " Then w^hy not ask them what they want ?" 
 
 " Look !" 
 
 There was a thin streak of yellow light shining 
 in from the night outside, through the opening left 
 by the shattered plank. Her look told her every- 
 thing. 
 
 " Fire !" whispered John Wetzel. 
 
 "They are never going to burn us!" cried the 
 agonized woman. 
 
 There was a rasping sound all around the cabin, 
 as the silent fiends outside piled up the branches 
 from the dry trees into a mountain over the little 
 cabin. Then there came a tender crackling; then 
 fifty thin threads of flame sprang up. Then for the 
 first time there was a sound of voices outside : a 
 shout of joy. Once again John Wetzel's bullet sped 
 on its way. Even once more ; and the place w^as as 
 though filled with a great sun, so light the flames 
 were. A great blazing log tumbled in on the floor ; 
 the roof was a mass of tinder. The place was 
 
THE BEAB. 47 
 
 scorching hot, and outside, joining with the shouts 
 of the Indians, came the frightened bellowing of 
 liberated cattle and the bleating of scurrying sheep; 
 while the quick stamps on the ground told of 
 loosened half- wild horses making for the river. 
 
 The mother had torn a blanket from the bed and 
 thrown it over the boys to protect them from the 
 flames. The smoke filling the place blinded her. 
 She could no longer see her husband. A part of 
 the roof fell in, and with it came a crowd of yelling 
 savages. 
 
 " John ! John !" she shrieked, and hurried towards 
 the place where she thought he must be. She was 
 jostled against by fighting Indians, who were now 
 stamping on the fire to put it out. She caught a 
 glimpse of her husband in the arms of three or four 
 painted savages, hurried from the cabin struggling 
 for his life. Shrieking, she was after him. 
 
 She had almost touched him, when a gleam of 
 something bright blinded her, — a tomahawk in the 
 hands of a fierce brute over her husband's head. 
 
 There was a quick movement of the Indian's 
 hand, a whoop from his lips as the instrument 
 descended with a dull thud and crashed through 
 the skull of John Wetzel. ' Then she knew no more. 
 
 The early morning light brought its dew and 
 songs of birds. 
 
\ 
 
 48 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The wife and mother had fallen in the long rank 
 grass and been completely hidden from her would- 
 be murderers. She raised herself and looked around. 
 
 There was the mouldering cabin. That was all. 
 She knew that her husband was killed, she had seen 
 the deed done. 
 
 She thought her children were burned up with 
 the cabin. 
 
 Groaning in her agony, she determined to make 
 her way to Wheeling, where her other children 
 were. Fierce and weak, clutching her arms, she 
 fled on. On her way stray cattle came and looked 
 at her; cows begging her only to stop and milk 
 them. Wild-eyed horses gazed at her, their manes 
 blowing in the morning breeze, and dumbl}^ asking 
 her where was the corn they had so long been used 
 to of mornings. She knew these were a part of her 
 home, now hers no longer. Stumbling on, looking 
 straight before her, she made her way, a widow with 
 three children less than she had had last night, into 
 the fort at Wheeling, where she fell unconscious, 
 moaning unintelligibly. 
 
THE OATH. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE OATH. 
 
 "DUT the boys had not been murdered, as their 
 mother's despair had suggested to her. Martin, 
 the eldest, in the earliest moment of the assault had 
 dropped from a window and flown across the lurid 
 meadow, the yells of the savages growing fainter 
 and fainter as he sped along, his mother's cries the 
 last sound that rang in his ears. In the morning 
 he crept back to the scene of ruin and desolation, 
 only to send his voice to heaven for his lost or 
 slaughtered kindred. 
 
 But the two younger boys had been discovered by 
 the Indians beneath the blanket in the burning hut, 
 where Lewis had been struck in the breast by a 
 bullet which tore away a piece of the bone. 
 
 The conquerers spared these boys because of 
 their extreme youth, and drove them before the 
 band across the country, captives. 
 
 On the way, by the light from his burning home, 
 Lewis, looking down, saw in the crushed and 
 trampled grass the mutilated body of his father. 
 
50 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The boy stopped abruptly, and seemed turned to 
 stone. 
 
 He looked around, and in the red light as far as 
 his eye could reach rolled the boundless prairie, 
 with groups of beasts huddled close together, gazing 
 with wild, affrighted eyes upon the strange light. 
 Great birds swept by towards the burning build- 
 ing, w^heeled about it afar off, the circles eddying 
 nearer to the flame, nearer and nearer still, until, 
 with shrill cries, they darted into the heart of 
 the flame, and perished there. There was a soft 
 crackling in the grass, and spots of fire leaped up 
 here and there. The moon looked red and sullen 
 through the smoke. That was what the bo^ saw. 
 His brother at his side was bitterly weeping and 
 cowering before their red enslavers. But Lewis 
 Wetzel shed no tear, uttered no groan. 
 
 " Did you see father, there' in the grass?" wept his 
 brother. 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Father is dead !" wept his brother. 
 
 Still there was no reply to his wailing. Yet in 
 that instant of horrid sight there had come to the 
 silent boy the bitter hatred that never left liim 
 thereafter, — something that had meant life and 
 being to him went from him into the dead body of 
 his father, as dead as that body. A hush came upon 
 
THE OATH. 61 
 
 him that left its impression forever after in his face. 
 The love he bore the murdered man lived with ten- 
 fold intensity, and deadened every other natural feel- 
 ing. But that love, having nothing now on which to 
 expend its w^ealth in fond endearments and happy 
 hopes, turned immediately it knew the outrage 
 done it into irrevocable hatred against the slayers 
 and their whole kind, — a fiendish perfection of 
 hatred that bordered closely upon madness, but 
 w^hich had not a grain of madness in it, any more 
 than madness may be said to actuate any feeling of 
 retaliation for wrongfully-inflicted suffering. In 
 the simple and untutored communities, however, 
 through which the scout afterwards moved, he was 
 often said to be not quite sane. 
 
 "White boys hurry!" said the tormentors that 
 night of the murder. 
 
 A brawny chief came up and caught Lewis by 
 his hair and threw him forward. The boy was 
 only convalescent from small-pox, and the wound 
 in his breast bled profusely. 
 
 "White boy bleeds easy," said the chief; "his 
 blood is thin," and gave the lad another thrust 
 forward. Still there was no wincing, nor a sound 
 of complaint. " Good !" cried the chief, with a sort 
 of brute admiration. " White boy no coward. lie 
 will be chief yet. If he will not be chief, he will 
 roast." 
 
52 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The Indians, though as a race peculiarly defi- 
 cient in the comic element, and to a degree blind to 
 the ludicrous, laughed at this sally of their chief, 
 and further sought to provoke the boy in order to 
 test his endurance. They received no notice 'for 
 their manoeuvres, although one of them caught up 
 little Jacob and pretended to tomahawk him. 
 
 They then tied the arms of the boys with thongs 
 drawn so tightly as to cause exquisite pain. The 
 smaller boy wept in agony; his brother never 
 winced. As a new variety of sport, the tw^o boys 
 were then bound about the knees, and, prodded 
 from behind, were forced into a sort of jog-trot 
 inexpressibly wearisome. To this latter torture 
 the younger boy obeyed and trotted on as he saw 
 the man aiming blows at him. But the elder did 
 not accelerate his pace from the tired march they 
 had been reduced to, and every effort to harass him 
 was useless if intended to cause him to act as his 
 brother did. He was switched, and stinging blow^s 
 fell unheeded on his limbs : a knife w^as brandished 
 before his eyes, and he did not wince ; it is doubtful 
 if he ever saw the knife meant to menace him. 
 
 It was not so much bravery in the lad that made 
 hira callous to all this: the shock of his father's 
 death turned his nerves to iron. While the Indians 
 admired his stoic bearing, the hatred for them 
 almost burst his breast. 
 
THE OATH. 53 
 
 But the Indians grew tired of their sport, and 
 made preparations for going forward. 
 
 "They're taking us from home," wailed little 
 Jacob, clinging to his brother, and thus impeding 
 their movements. 
 
 A blow from a brave separated the boys. Then, 
 with hits and thrusts, they were driven on. Day 
 came, grew to meridian, declined, and nothing was 
 given the boys to stay the pangs of hunger. Night, 
 and another day, and their mouths were parched, 
 their limbs faint and trembling. 
 
 At night Lewis Wetzel crouched upon the hard, 
 bare earth, for they were not allowed a blanket, and 
 folded his brother in his arms and thus stifled the 
 trembling, caused as much by weakness and even 
 fear as by the cold dews dripping through the trees 
 upon their defenseless heads. The younger boy slept 
 at last, secure in the fold of his boy protector ; but 
 Lewis never closed his eyes, but crouched there 
 watching the guard that every now and then threw 
 a glance towards the two youthful captives who 
 rested just beyond the fire, but too far removed from 
 it to feel any of its warmth. 
 
 " Courage ! courage !" Lewis Wetzel was heard 
 to whisper; but whether the courage was invoked 
 for himself or his brother that brother who heard 
 did not know. 
 
54 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 For two days after their capture the red-skins 
 drove the boys along like stolen sheep, waving their 
 murderous weapons over their heads, and yelling 
 in their ears, delighted when they saw a sign of 
 blanching and wavering. They compelled the chil- 
 dren to sit close to them while they eat and drank, 
 and offered nothing to the captives. Then from 
 feasting they would arise and drive the boys on, 
 prodding them with sticks if they showed signs of 
 weariness. And so on till they were no longer in 
 sight "of the familiar homely clearing, and were 
 sadly exhausted, footsore, tired, and hungry. They 
 received kicks and cuffs for any approach to tardi- 
 ness, up to the very last, and at every moment they 
 expected death. But such was not to be the case : 
 death was not for them in that guise. The second 
 night after the murder of John Wetzel the Indians 
 sighted the Big Lick, about twenty miles from the 
 river, in what is now Ohio, and upon McMahon's 
 Creek. Here they encamped, the youthfulness of 
 the boys and their utterly spent condition causing 
 them to relax their usual vigilance concerning 
 prisoners. 
 
 "White boys hungry?'' they asked, holding tempt- 
 ing morsels of deer's flesh before the famished chil- 
 dren's eyes. " White bo3's' father lost his hair, eli ?" 
 
 Jacob was crying from hunger and fright; but 
 
THE OATH. 55 
 
 Lewis paid no attention to physical want, as he 
 never did thereafter, but stood there white and 
 nerveless. 
 
 Tlie Indians made their fire bright after they had 
 eaten their fill, and sat down and smoked and 
 talked far into the night. Then they wrapped 
 themselves in their blankets, and stretched them- 
 selves on the ground. The sentinels paced up and 
 down for a little while, scarcely vouchsafing a 
 glance towards the two pale, faint boys clinging 
 to each other outside the ashes of the fire, and 
 hemmed in by the blanketed sleeping warriors, 
 now snoring. Then these w^atchers would pause 
 once in a while, and glance over towards their 
 somnolent brethren by the warm ashes that dissi- 
 pated the chilly dews falling through the woods. 
 
 Wetzel, to his last day, always remembered how 
 he felt watching the sleeping Indians, many of 
 whom had removed their moccasins and thrust 
 their feet into the ashes, lying there in sensuous 
 ease, while two forlorn children crouched together 
 on the ground far away from the fire's generous 
 heat, and exhausted, bewildered, w^ounded. The 
 watchers, from looking at the evidences of the ease 
 they coveted, paced irregularly their rounds. Then 
 they sat upon the ground for a little while. Then 
 two got together and spoke a word now and then. 
 
56 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The fire grew less, and sunk away into smouldering 
 ashes; the sounds in the midnight wood were con- 
 ducive to easy slumber. 
 
 One of the guards lazily watching the boys saw 
 the bright light in Lewis Wetzel's eyes, and came 
 over to him frowning. 
 
 " White boy sleep ?" he asked. 
 
 He received no reply. 
 
 *' White boy better go sleep," he said further. 
 Then still seeing the eyes open, he struck the boy in 
 the face as a reminder. 
 
 "Now sleep," he said; "a Indian brave cut out 
 the white boy's eyes and make him sleep." 
 
 This remedy for insomnia seemed to be under- 
 stood by the boy, for he diU close his eyes, he did to 
 all appearances sleep as his brother was sleeping 
 beside him. 
 
 At last the watchers, from sitting on the ground, 
 rolled heavily over, one by one, and slept with the 
 others. 
 
 When they had lain there a few minutes, with no 
 signs of awaking, Lewis Wetzel whispered into the 
 ear of his brother : 
 
 " Get up ; we w^ill go home." 
 
 " There is no home," whimpered the little brother. 
 
 " Get up ; wo will find home," fiercely said Lewis, 
 in so strange a tone that his brother obeyed him 
 unquestioningly. — . 
 
THE OATH. 57 
 
 They threaded their way between the sleeping 
 Indians, guided by the glow of the bot ashes. 
 Leaves crumpled under their feet, and they paused. 
 No, no one was aroused. A bulky brave lay 
 directly in their path. 
 
 This brave at first was a stumbling-block to the 
 two boys. He was broad, his arms were stretched 
 out beside him ; the slightest touch might wake 
 him. Even as they stood there, the boys saw this 
 brave struck on the face by a falling leaf, and he 
 stirred uneasily, without, however, opening his eyes. 
 They would not go back, they. dared not go forward. 
 Minutes seemed to elapse, and still they stood there, 
 that sleeping form before them, their minds strained 
 to the last point, and almost beyond reasoning. At 
 last, with a pulling of himself together, and a stern 
 setting of his upper teeth in his lower lip : 
 
 " Over," whispered Lewis Wetzel, and he lifted his 
 brother sheer across the body, stumbling after him. 
 There was yet an outer circle of Indians to be 
 crossed. This was done boldly, and the free land 
 lay before them, and they had but to choose a way. 
 They went a few hundred yards, when their wounded 
 feet made them pause and. sit upon a log. Their 
 shoes were gone. 
 
 '• We cannot go," said the youngef brother, with 
 age's desperation. 
 
68 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Not barefooted," replied Lewis ; " we must have 
 moccasins." 
 
 " Where will we get them ?" 
 
 " You stay here, and I will get them," said Lewis, 
 in that same tone of voice that must be obeyed. 
 
 He went back to the camp-fire, crossing sleeping 
 body after sleeping body. He found the moccasins 
 set before the hot ashes to dry. He took two pairs, 
 and came with them back to his brother. 
 
 "Here," he said, and knelt down in the dark- 
 ness and fitted the moccasins upon the younger boy's 
 feet. 
 
 They sat a little while longer on the log. Priva- 
 tion seemed to have dwarfed the energy even in so 
 young children, and now that they sav/ a way out 
 of captivity, the impulse to accept it seemed gone. 
 At last the older boy aroused himself from the 
 state of apathy they had fallen into. 
 
 " Now," he said, " don't move. Stay here till I 
 come back." 
 
 " Where are you going ?" 
 
 "We need protection, little Jacob." 
 
 " V/here arc you going ? — why do you leave me 
 here alone ?"' 
 
 " We must have a gun," he said, and disappeared 
 in the darkness. 
 
 As in many other hearts brought to desolation, 
 
THE OATH. 59 
 
 the thought of a Supreme Being seems further 
 removed than mortal revenge, and what mortal can 
 do is of more moment than the power of Omnipo- 
 tence; so was it with this boy when he left his 
 brother, who depended upon him, alone in the 
 darkness and the night. There flashed over him 
 the stories he had heard his mother read from the 
 Bible, — the stories of a just and all-powerful God. 
 He thought of the prayer for protection he had 
 early learned. Then : 
 
 " No !" he said bitterly; "I will not pray. Myself 
 must do now." 
 
 The meaning of desolation, and the one power 
 that delivers from it, was to come later in his life. 
 
 Again did he make his way back to the camp-fire. 
 There was a musket lying beside one of the sleepers, 
 and he stooped and picked it up, and prepared to 
 move off. The sleeper stirred, and changed his 
 position, so that his face turned up to the boy, 
 gleaming like mahogany in the fire-glow. 
 
 All apathy was gone from the boy then. AVhat 
 had come to him when he looked upon his dead 
 father awoke again. Grasping the musket in his 
 firm, brown hands, he looked down at the face. 
 Here was one of his father's murderers ! Perhaps 
 this very man had struck the blow; perhaps it was 
 he who had first fired the cabin ; perhaps it was he 
 
60 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 who had worn the bear-skin, and been watched for 
 days by the boy who now looked upon him, holding 
 him in his power. Might not the debt be paid now? 
 Instinctively he raised the hammer of the musket. 
 He lost sight of everything else around him but the 
 man who lay in his power. That one face gleamed 
 out at him, tempting him. A fierce longing came 
 to him now — this moment — to place that gun-barrel 
 close to that treacherous countenance, and send a 
 soul out to the dread unknown in memory of his 
 father. Fear was gone from the boy now, and he 
 stood there as reckless of life as he w^as ever after. 
 The helpless Indian face tormented him ; more and 
 more he burned to wreak vengeance. He looked 
 about him, and saw the many recumbent forms. 
 Oh, to kill all ! At least, he might die in the attempt. 
 
 Then he thought of his relying brother, waiting 
 for him on the log in the black, dense wood. 
 
 " I have no time now," he said, slinging his 
 weapon over his shoulder, and leaping savage after 
 savage with a step as light as the air, and, buoyed 
 up, he came back to his brother. They set out 
 immediately. Young as they were, they were suffi- 
 ciently expert in tracking paths in the woods to 
 find their way out. There was nothing but a 
 charred ruin remaining of their home, but they 
 were to make their way to their mother and sisters 
 and brothers. 
 
THE OATH, 61 
 
 Again the leaves crisped under their tread ; far- 
 ther and farther from the light of the fire they went. 
 
 " Remember," said Lewis Wetzel once, " there must 
 be no more whimpering. If you whimper, I'll leave 
 you here." 
 
 " Are you afraid of them ?" asked his little brother 
 tremulously. 
 
 " It is because I want them to fear me that I mean 
 to escape," was the reply. 
 
 So they went on, casting many a glance back 
 through the ebon darkness, where the now dim 
 light of the camp-fire was but as the glow of a 
 candle they had often seen set in the window at 
 home to guide them on their way from the hunting 
 of a stray sheep or cow. 
 
 They had not been gone long when the Indian 
 whose gun had been purloined awoke and discovei*ed 
 his loss. The fact of the escape was made known 
 at once, and a pursuit instituted. The boys, going 
 along, heard the Indians hard on their heels. Once 
 they were almost overtaken, the Indians brushing 
 closely past them. 
 
 "Down!" whispered Lewis, and he and his brother 
 precipitated themselves into the sea of tall grass all 
 around them, and which their pursuers beat with 
 clubs without discovering the objects of their search. 
 Long the boys laid there. Then the pursuing party 
 
62 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 passed on. " Up I" said Lewis Wetzel, and he and 
 his brother fell into the rear of the searchers, and 
 took up thdir travels again towards liberty. 
 
 Then they heard the Indians returning, cursing 
 the guard and everybody concerned, for the loss of 
 two captives who had not so much as left their 
 scalps behind, but had stolen a gun and two pairs 
 of moccasins — and only boys at that ! 
 
 When the boys heard the augr}^ voices returning, 
 they precipitated themselves into the grass again, 
 and a second time escaped detection. Then, when 
 the party had passed by, they went feebly on again. 
 They were then followed by two Indians on hors(> 
 back, whom they eluded in the same manner. But 
 these Indians drove their horses over the grass in a 
 hap-hazard manner, and more than once the boys 
 narrowdy escaped death. But they did escape, and 
 a day more found them beyond the reach of the 
 braves. 
 
 They subsisted for days on roots, for though they 
 had a gun the}' had no amunition but the one load 
 in it, and that Lewis refused to use on mere game, 
 expecting more deadly use for it were they pursued 
 a second time (which was not to be), and, after slow 
 marches and strong endeavors to counteract the 
 weakness stealing over them, they reached the river. 
 In their sorry condition, and knowing that that 
 
THE OATH. 63 
 
 river must be crossed before they could be near 
 friends, the two boys made a raft, the implement 
 for making which was a jack-knife, and their cloth- 
 ing torn in strips to tie the planks together wdien 
 the withes from the trees failed them. In this raft 
 they crossed the river, two boys made men by 
 sorrow and wrong. When they reached the other 
 side, Lewis was nearly exhausted from the bleeding 
 of the w^ound in his breast. 
 
 "AVe must reach Wheeling," he said to his brother, 
 and despite pain and weakness they again pushed 
 onw^ard, and slowdy, but surely, they sighted Wheel- 
 ing and friends. 
 
 From afar off they saw the place, and could dis- 
 cern the people moving about. 
 
 " But it is so far," pleaded the younger boy. 
 
 ^' You w^ill go, as I tell you to," said the other. 
 
 Nearer and nearer they went to the place. Once 
 out of the tall grass, they could be seen, and a man 
 saw them. They could see this man, his hand before 
 his eyes, looking in their direction, and apparently 
 hallooing to those about him; then the boys encoun- 
 tered grass again. When they emerged, they were 
 wdthin hailing distance; in a few minutes more 
 they w^re in Wheeling. 
 
 There they were met by their mother and her 
 friends. -Freeing himself from the hysteric woman's 
 embraces, Lewis Wetzel stood apart from them all. 
 
64 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " He is hurt in the breast," said a little girl — 
 Berta Rosencranz. 
 
 " Never mind my hurt," he said to those anxious 
 to attend to him. "I am thinking — of my father." 
 
 "Pie is crazed," said old Eberly, their one-time 
 neighbor. 
 
 "He is notr cried the little girl, stamping her 
 foot, her eyes blazing. 
 
 For several minutes the boy stood thus apart,- his 
 mother bitterly weeping, her little family huddled 
 up beside her, and the child Berta alone gazing on 
 Lewis with understanding of the feeling swaying 
 him. Suddenly throwing the Indian's musket from 
 him, and raising his clenched hand, he cried : 
 
 " I swear to kill every Indian that crosses my 
 path, so long as God lets me live !" 
 
 For a moment there was a stunned silence ; the 
 vehemence, the energy, and, moreover, a certain 
 quality they had not expected from the lad, startled 
 the rude sympathizers into a calm of wonder and 
 awe. Then his mother broke out in wails, wringing 
 her hands and declaring that her child was mad, 
 and asking despairingly, "What shall I do? What 
 shall I do?" 
 
 She grasped her other child, so recently recovered, 
 and held convulsively to him. 
 
 "Lewis! Lewis I" she cried, "what does it all 
 
THE OATH. 65 
 
 mean? What can it all mean ? First your father, 
 then you. I am wild ! I am wild ! I am afraid for 
 the first time in my life, and I don't know what 
 makes me afraid." 
 
 His little brother, whom he had brought into 
 Wheeling, broke from his mother, and stood beside 
 him. 
 
 " Your oath is mine 1" he said stoutly. 
 
 The girl Berta had thrown herself upon the 
 ground weeping. The mother rent the air with her 
 cries. How that oath was more than mere boyish 
 bravado their after-life attested. The energy of 
 youth kept alive their hatred, until it had become a 
 characteristic defying age or calmer judgment to 
 effect alteration or mitigation. Hurled at one fell 
 swoop from childish inconsequence and carelessness, 
 their childish natures forsook them ; they were har- 
 dened men, with more than a man's ordinar}^ respon- 
 sibility. Young boys were men when they could do 
 a man's work among the settlers; and what the 
 endurance and trials of a bringing-up such as theirs 
 had been inculcated in them made them like- the 
 savages whose childish rearing was not a whit wilder 
 than that of these white boys'. 
 
 A descendant of old neighbor Eberly told the 
 present writer, not long since, that an old paper, 
 found among some family books, and written by 
 Pberly's hand, has this note : 
 
66 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Lowis Wetzell a prime young ladd made oath 
 to-day that hee wold kill every Injun as come on his 
 path. A bad beginning for so young a ladd. I 
 spoke to him about it, and he ansered nothing. Hee 
 seemed like to a grown man all to once. Hee had 
 such an air about him that I could say nothing to 
 dissuade him after a bitt. Hee has suffered much : 
 hee never smiled all day, as childern will when 
 surrounded by other childern and soon forgit their 
 losses. And the strange part of it is that nobody 
 thinks the oath out of the way nor odd for a ladd 
 to make. It sounds odd, and it looks odd on paper. 
 But looking at the ladd and seeing his harde face 
 and harde eyes, it seemeth not so odd nor out of the 
 way. The Lord be with us all, and rid us of our 
 many troubles now clustering about these colonies 
 that are no longer England's out-posts, praise the 
 Lord I" 
 
 Yet De Haas, in his memoir of Lewis Wetzel, 
 gives an account of the death of John Wetzel, the 
 father, which carries the date of the massacre for- 
 ward about ten years or so, thus making Lewis 
 Wetzel far more mature when the famous oath was 
 taken than the notes the writer has collected. It is 
 even asserted that the family came to AVheeling 
 from Washington, Pennsylvania ; some, again, con- 
 tradicting these, and giving the Pennsylvania side 
 
THE OATH. 67 
 
 of Virginia as their home before going farther West. 
 The writer has had it asseverated to him that Lan- 
 caster sent the family of Wetzels fortk Said an old 
 woman in the old market at Lancaster : 
 
 " Wetzels ? Yah ! I know Wetzels. My mudder 
 she lofe Jahn Wetzel's boy Lewis. My mudder she 
 was gal, and used to watch for Jahn Wetzel's boy 
 Lewis up Wheeling. He was big man wid long 
 hair, and he mended my mudder's dolly-baby's legs. 
 He mended every tings what want mending, and 
 the wiming used for to say : ' It's time Lewis 
 Wetzel he come now already, and we will get 
 all our tings mended when he come once.' Vash- 
 ingtown was Lewis Wetzel's home? Nein! nein! 
 Lancaster was his home. You tink I lies? I got 
 big blue pitcher, what Heister's gal she found in 
 Jahn Wetzel's house when he goned away, and my 
 mudder's mudder she kept it." 
 
 And she pulled her black hood further over her 
 face and attended to a more paying customer, who 
 wanted some of her beautiful eggs and golden lumps 
 of butter. 
 
 Be it as it may, there is so much that is necessarily 
 left to conjecture, and facts standing the chance of 
 being doubted as much as hearsay, that only the 
 most often vouched-for legends, with long strings of 
 scarcely contestible proofs, can be taken as in any 
 
68 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 way authentic, even such facts standing the chance 
 of having detractors arise, claiming more proofs 
 than those which have ahnost established the authen- 
 ticity of the accepted version. Yet the Lancaster 
 authorities still say Lancaster, with show of reason. 
 As to the death of John Wetzel, De Haas's statement 
 is: "He was killed near Captina, in 1787, on his 
 return from Middle Island Creek, under the follow- 
 ing circumstances. Himself and companion were 
 in a canoe, paddling slowly near the shore, when 
 they were hailed by a party of Indians, and ordered 
 to land. This they, of course, refused to do, when 
 immediately they were fired upon, and "Wetzel was 
 shot through the body. Feeling himself mortally 
 wounded, he directed his companion to lie down in 
 the canoe, while' he (Wetzel), so long as strength 
 remained, would paddle the frail vessel beyond 
 reach of the savages. 
 
 " In this way he saved the life of his friend, while 
 his own was ebbing fast. He died soon after reach- 
 ing the shore, at Baker's Station." 
 
 This is materially different from the other version, 
 and depends mainly, as much as that, upon the 
 gossip of the settlers, which has come down to to-day 
 in legends. In the then state of the country it is 
 just possible that a settler murdered was only a 
 settler murdered, and that the mode of John Wetzel's 
 
THE OATH. 69 
 
 death was little inquired into until after his son 
 had come prominently before the country as his 
 avowed and fatal avenger, — the care-taker of the 
 weaker parts of the frontier, whose services might 
 always be called upon, and relied upon, wherever 
 there were signs of Indian depredation, or where 
 widowed women and orphaned children had no one 
 left to defend them. And he came without a word, 
 their friend, and the ready executioner of their red 
 enemies. 
 
 But all statements, from whatever source, and 
 with whatever degree of proof, coincide with the 
 main events here narrated ; and agree that the 
 murder of the father was the chief moving power of 
 the whole after-life of the scout. And the taking 
 prisoners of the boys is substantially the same in 
 all accounts as is given in the present instance, 
 the wound in the breast and the loss of a part of 
 the breast-bone being spoken of in every version. 
 
 Yet it seems more than probable that the two boys 
 were of a very tender age when captured, younger by 
 far than De Haas in his narrative makes them, as 
 their savage captors had dealt only too often with 
 white onen, and very rarely took them alive when 
 they were defending their own property and lives. 
 Nor is it scarcely as probable that the sly and ever- 
 watchful red men would have been so lacking in 
 
70 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 their austere treatment of grown men as to allow an 
 escape of two for want of adequate guardianship 
 and bonds. The Indian guarders of white men 
 were staunch as those of old Rome, who were 
 accused by the Jews of sleeping around the tomb of 
 the crucified Christ, which accounted for its vacancy. 
 A Roman soldier to sleep ! 
 
 Consequently, their youth is pretty well estab- 
 lished by the fact of the escape of the two boys, 
 the mode of it, and the long time of waiting on the 
 part of Lewis Wetzel before he carried his oath 
 into execution. 
 
 liowever, the incident of their capture and escape 
 is. in all the chronicles and tales, and in all, also, is 
 the vouched-for truth that the times were such that 
 small mercy would have been shown to even willing 
 captives by the Indians, if those captives were men. 
 But boy prisoners were often treated with unexpected 
 leniency, after trial of their endurance, as in the 
 case of these two, in the hope of their affiliation 
 with Indian tribes and subsequent adoption of their 
 habits, thus becoming warriors fiercer, more malign, 
 than the natives themselves, as apostasy invariably 
 carries with it a fervor unknown to original beliefs 
 and modes. 
 
 It is said that Lewis Wetzel sedulously deelined 
 any treatment for his wound. Little Berta Rosen- 
 
THE OATH. 71 
 
 cranz gave him lint, and cried when he dropped it 
 
 on the ground. Old Eberly said that the wound 
 had caused fever, which hurt his brain. And this 
 fact he records also : 
 
 " The ladd his heade burnt like fire, and his eyes 
 they burnt too. Settler Truman's wife she gif him 
 some tea made off the tanzy plante and olde man; 
 but he wold not drinke off it, which I done my owm 
 selfe for the rheumatiz." 
 
 This old aimotator appears to have thought more 
 of the family than the other did, and keeps them 
 steadily in view. His notes being in private-family 
 form necessarily contain much that should not be 
 made public, and which would be uninteresting, 
 save for the quaintness in them. The writer uses 
 them solely because they throw a more human light 
 on the times and people they speak of. 
 
 Three weeks after the arrival of the two boys at 
 Wheeling, and when they had been seen but little 
 in the community, old Eberly, going into the woods 
 to trap a squirrel or two, stumbled across the dead 
 body of an Indian. A few yards from the body 
 Lewis Wetzel and his young brother were silently 
 regarding the old man. 
 
 " I sed to them," ho writes, "you raskels, why fore 
 did you put to death innocent man ?" 
 
 The answer is not recorded, nor is the denial of 
 
72 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the death at the hands of the boys. But at the 
 girdle of the dead Indian was found a scalp of 
 golden hair, that glittered and fell in pretty streams 
 before the brave, and tied to the bright hair the left 
 hand of a young ivhite girl, the fingers crushed and 
 broken, as though the owner of the small hand had 
 been cruelly tortured before death, if the hand had 
 not belonged to a girl still living. 
 
 " Oh, such times !" writes old Eberly, after shud- 
 dering over the little white hand. " And the oath 
 of that ladd was not only mere child's-talk. What 
 will come of that oath? And 0, these troublous 
 times !" 
 
 There had come into Wheeling, a few days after 
 the restoration to liberty of the two boys, a white 
 man, from whose mouth had been torn the tongue, 
 and whose wrists were gory stumps, from which no 
 hands extended. He could neither tell nor write 
 the story of his wrongs. Yet no voice nor writing 
 was necessary to tell that Indian cruelty had done 
 the deed. When this man died, eyes blurred with 
 passion, not with tears, looked on his corpse. At 
 about the same time twenty horses belonging to a 
 settler were found one morning hamstrung, so that 
 the suffering brutes had to be killed immediately. 
 
 A field of grain was trodden down in one night 
 by human feet, and no one had heard a sound in 
 
THE OATH. 73 
 
 the night but the songliing of the wind and the 
 peculiar hush of the darkness. A party of white 
 sokliers in red coats, led by Indians, had come to a 
 settler's house and taken the bread from the hungry 
 children and marched the father off a prisoner and 
 left the woman in the hands of the savage guides. 
 Innumerable are the stories that have come doAvn 
 to us, and which are horrible to us at this remote 
 time, when even to read of them makes us hasten 
 to turn the page. What must it have been when 
 that old man, in the midst of it, took his quill and 
 poke-berry -juice, and wrote upon his coarse paper 
 his trembling concern for "these troublous times"? 
 And what were these times ? 
 
74 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE INDIAN SCOUT. 
 
 n^HE times were such as admitted very rarely of 
 any intermediate course of action whatsoever. 
 It was either for or against. It was a time of pecu- 
 liar unquiet and turbulence. The Revolution was 
 at its height ; it seemed doubtful which way the war 
 must eventually turn, and desperation became 
 synonymous with bravery in the urging of their 
 rights by the colonists. The troubles in the interior 
 called for all the aid the colonies could grant, leav- 
 ing the frontier almost completely exposed and 
 defenseless. 
 
 The British called in and stimulated the already 
 reckless and embittered Indians to make inroads 
 upon cultivated lands and tethered stock. These 
 inroads left everything changed, and barrenness and 
 waste were on every hand. Scenes of murder were 
 of frequent occurrence, and death was not always 
 the worst penalty inflicted upon the captive settlers. 
 These were only too often mere women and children, 
 the men having marched inland hastily, leaving 
 
THE INDIAN SCOUT. 75 
 
 their families in the hands of Divinity, while they 
 were enrolled as rebels against his Majesty of Eng- 
 land. There were renegades, too, among the early 
 settlers, who, being offended by slights, real or 
 imaginary, inflicted by their brother emigrants, 
 were the most energetic of the advisers of the 
 Indians in their barbarous mode of warfare, and 
 were benefited by the lion's share of the spoils. 
 Simon Girty is one of these men. Because of some 
 offered slight, the nature of which is mostly conjec- 
 tural after this long period of time, and few authentic 
 proofs being at hand, if any in existence, he deserted 
 and joined the Indians, and became a horror to his 
 former white associates. His exquisite cruelty was 
 something original in the simple annals of the first 
 settlers. His fury against the whites resembled more 
 the paroxysms of a maniac than the deliberate cru- 
 elty of even a naturally ferocious temperament. 
 No inquisitioner of old could have enjoyed more 
 unmoved the throes of agon}^ wrung from the tor- 
 tured white man than did Simon Girty, as, mounted 
 on his horse, he would look on at the barbarous 
 scenes enacted by the raging Indian braves. With 
 all their wiliness and suspicion of the whites, the 
 red-skins seem to have reposed confidence in this 
 man, strange as it may appear. His fiendishness 
 may have awed them, and made them look to him 
 
76 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 as the incarnation of their own worst traits, which 
 worst traits are oftener obeyed tlian better ones. At 
 any rate, they held to him, and were willing to be 
 guided by him in depredations they w^ould never 
 have thought of but for him. 
 
 He appears to have lost all moral sensibility, to 
 have been deaf to the voice of friendship, save on 
 one occasion. And that occasion is, that Kenton, 
 who, as Girty's fellow-spy, went by the name of 
 Butler, w^as at last taken prisoner by the Indians in 
 a raid he had instituted against them, and, after 
 being mercilessly tortured, was condemned to the 
 stake, and besought Girty's intervention. Girty 
 really did work hard to save his friend, and brought 
 the influence of the noble and simple chief Logan to 
 bear in his case. 
 
 "Young man," said Logan to the captive, "my 
 people seem very angry with you. What cause have 
 they?" 
 
 "They are angry, — I don't know why," said 
 Kenton respectfully, and looking over to Girty. 
 
 " Tell me the truth," said Logan. 
 
 " I only know I have fought with your people, 
 then became their enemy and fought against them," 
 returned Kenton boldly. 
 
 "Be of good cheer," said the chief; "a man is 
 not base for fighting against his enemies. My 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT. .77 
 
 people speak of burning you at Sandusky, but I 
 will send runners before, and they will speak you 
 fair at Sandusky." 
 
 By dint of wily and yet brave manoeuvering and 
 risk, Kenton escaped, and Girty w^as his savior. 
 
 But Girty was not the only man who acted so 
 insanely against his brethren. With such men in 
 their midst, often unknown to be anything but their 
 warmest champions, what had the settlers not to 
 fear? 
 
 The money of the British doubtless played a 
 leading part with many of these spies. Old Eberly 
 writes : 
 
 " To-day I buried my britania tea-pot, for I mor- 
 tally fear to bee called on to deliver it up, it being 
 of a tempting richness, to the British spies that seem 
 to bee here, there, and everywhere, without us know- 
 ing who they bee." 
 
 There was no use in making any complaint, for 
 there was no one in authority with whom to lodge 
 complaint. If a spy were discovered, the only 
 righteous mode of dealing with him was to kill him 
 as a dangerous reptile, wdthout waiting for any inter- 
 vention of so-called law. For there was litile or no 
 law now within reach of the frontiermen, and each 
 was compelled to be soldier, prosecutor, and judge in 
 his own defense, and to use his strong arm in the 
 
78 LEWIS WETZEL. , 
 
 interests of his hard-earned property and his help- 
 less family. As the Indian code was one of total 
 extermination, the white settler was compelled to 
 adopt the red man's tenets, and no mercy nor parley 
 was granted. 
 
 From this only further cruelty, barbarity, and 
 hatred could arise. And there sprang up among 
 the settlers, after a night of horror and devastation, 
 the Indian scout, — a man sworn to hunt down the 
 Indian, to destroy him upon his own ground, to have 
 no mercy, to be an avenging fate to wroug-doers. 
 The services of these scouts were wholly voluntary, 
 and their supplies were furnished by themselves at 
 their own cost. 
 
 There was a settler who sold all his little belongings 
 and came with the money procured therewith in his 
 hand, and, handing it over to a man in authority, 
 said : 
 
 " This is all I have. I give it to you if you will 
 let me be a scout. If I die, the money can be 
 divided between you. Should I live, then I can 
 work for myself and gain more." 
 
 It was known that a woman who had suffered 
 intense wrong at the hands of the Indians had 
 vowed a fierce revenge. A scout was encountered 
 in the Indian trails who spoke to no man; stern, 
 sad of face, heavy-browed, he went on his way, fer- 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT. 79 
 
 reting out stray Indians and killing them without 
 mercy and in silence. He associated with no man, 
 he spoke not of his prowess; he never made a 
 display of the scalps of his victims, if he ever took 
 any ; he was scarcely seen to eat, and when he slept 
 no one conjectured. Stern, ruthless, he killed and 
 spared not men, women, and even little children — 
 all fell before the rifle that never left his hand. It 
 was said that a score of Indians bit the dust in his 
 track within a month, and still he went silently on. 
 Once, a cold, stormy night, another scout came 
 across him going through the blinding snow towards 
 an Indian camp, a heavy bag thrown across his 
 shoulders, his gun no longer by his side, his right 
 hand grasping the bag and holding it. in place, his 
 left hand hidden in the breast of his coat. His 
 fellow-scout spoke to him, and he turned jaded eyes 
 upon him and smiled, — the first smile that any one 
 had seen on his face since he had mysteriously come 
 into contact with the other scouts. He was asked 
 where he was going. He pulled his left hand from 
 his coat, and pointed towards the Indian camp — his 
 hand had been shattered by the premature explosion 
 of his gun, and w^as powerless henceforth. What, 
 then, could he be going for in the direction of the 
 Indian camp ? He passed by his fellow-scout and 
 went through the snow. The other man turned and 
 
80 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 soiiglit shelter, and, wrapping himself in a blanket, 
 slept. 
 
 He knew not how long he slept, but all at once 
 he w^as awakened by an earthquake: he thought 
 that heaven and earth had come together. But 
 everything was still when he opened his eyes. For 
 all that, his heart was beating wildly, and he could 
 not think he had been dreaming. But no repetition 
 of the sound occurred, and still the soft white 'snow 
 fell gently and softly outside. He argued with 
 himself that he had been dreaming, and that the 
 start he had experienced when the other scout had 
 shown his shattered hand had produced the dream 
 — he had imagined the exploding gun. 
 
 But when it was light, he went towards the Indian 
 camp discovered the night before. The snow had 
 wiped out the track of the silent traveler encountered 
 last night; the snow had wiped out most of the marks 
 of devastation that wounded, silent traveler had 
 caused. For the scout came across the form of the 
 man, dead in his path, covered with snow, and with 
 limbs and members of five or six Indians near by. 
 
 The bag on the silent scout's back had been filled 
 with gunpowder, which, knowing that his useless 
 hand would forever debar him from the use of the 
 rifle, he had collected in some manner, and, as a last 
 revenge, had gone to the camp-fire and thrown it in. 
 
THE IXBIAN SCO UT. 81 
 
 taking death thus, himself perishing with the last 
 fruits of his undying hatred. This the man who 
 found the body readily understood, and gazed with 
 awe upon the wild work of the strange being who 
 rested under the snow before him. He leaned down 
 before that form and scraped the snow away from 
 the face. He opened the coat, then started back in 
 horror: for the silent scout, the deadly destroyer of 
 all Indians, man, woman, and child, was the woman 
 who had been most foully wronged by Indian 
 braves. 
 
 This story was brought into Wheeling along with 
 the body of the woman. Her death made more 
 scouts than her life could have made. A thirst for 
 Indian blood arose; men coaxed for the privilege 
 of being recognized as avengers of white men's 
 blood. Even children were told their duty was to 
 kill. All this argued that it was animal against 
 animal. But such is not the case : it was awakening 
 intelligence against rudely-awakened intelligence. 
 
 There are people, even at this late day, who hold, 
 that the Indian is a wronged man and a brother, 
 and that the most uncivilized mode has ever been 
 adopted to civilize him. He was naturally a brave 
 and reckless man, protecting his rights and allowing 
 no encroachment upon what he claimed as his own. 
 He did not hate the whites, the " long knives," till 
 
82 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 he thought they usurped his privileges. Day by 
 day his lodge was moved farther and farther towards 
 the setting sun, his ranks thinned of his young 
 warriors and maidens by the promises, honest and 
 specious, of the whites. He could not accept civili- 
 zation because, like the bison, civilization meant a 
 bridle to his personality. " AVar was the favorite 
 pursuit of this martial people, and military glory 
 their ruling passion. Agriculture and the laborious 
 drudgery of domestic life were left to the women. 
 The education of the savage w^as solely directed to 
 hunting and war. From his early infancy he was 
 taught to bend the bow, to point the arrow, to hurl 
 the tomahawk, and to wield the club." He was also 
 taught to track his enemy's footstep through the 
 almost impregnable forest; to mark the faintest 
 indications of danger; to find his way by the 
 appearance of the trees and by the stars. He must 
 endure fatigue, cold, famine, every privation. 
 
 The Indians had an exalted spirit of liberty^ which 
 revolted against all control. They considered them- 
 selves sovereigns, accountable to no one but Manitou, 
 the Great Spirit, — God ! The dusky brave despised 
 death, and during his life regarded it with the 
 indifference of the Moslem. He seldom committed 
 suicide, because patience and endurance are the first 
 duties of a warrior, leading to high rewards, and 
 
THE INDIAN SCOUT. 83 
 
 none but cowards yield to pain and misfortune. He 
 was taught from early infancy that the Great Spirit 
 would be offended by any change in the red man's 
 mode of life handed down by ancient tradition. He 
 believed all the wild and debasing superstitions his 
 wise men taught him. He left tobacco on rocks as a 
 sacrifice to invisible spirits. His every act must con- 
 ciliate some spiritual influence. He was willing in 
 the beginning to act as guide to the chance white 
 man, and looked upon the interloper, at first, almost 
 as a superior being. » 
 
 Roger \Yilliams says: "I have been guided by 
 them twenty, thirty, and forty miles, through woods,^^ 
 on a straight course, out of any path. When the 
 English first came to this country, it was admirable 
 to see what paths their naked feet had made in the 
 wilderness, in the most stony and rocky places. On 
 the whole, we may speak of them as a brave, reckless, 
 generous, and unfortunate people." 
 
 Imagine such a people suffering under an imagi- 
 nary wrong, thinking their simple lives set aside 
 and circumvented by cunning and fraud. What 
 they claimed by the law of primogeniture vras taken 
 from them, and they were forced to make treaties 
 with the stranger, who had no right to anything, in 
 order to insure possession of what had always been 
 theirs. 
 
84 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Ignorant, as we reckon ignorance, filled with their 
 own importance, what could they not become when 
 desperate? A simple, holy nature perverted becomes 
 more vile than the veriest reveler in all villainies. 
 The whites who came to them with offered services 
 when they were fighting ofi* the settlers that daily 
 encroached a little upon their reserves were of the 
 most depraved nature, and sided with them only to 
 wreak some petty vengeance upon their brothers, 
 or to gain by foul means what they dared not claim 
 by fair. 
 
 The Indian, a lover of bravery, must have seen in 
 all the whites but prototypes of those who claimed 
 their aid in their own quarrels. They became the 
 fiends we know them during the Indian wars. All 
 the unbridled passions of man, often more fierce than 
 those of beasts, were given full license in their deter- 
 mination to wipe out the encroacher. They knew no 
 reason, they saw no rights but their own. They 
 were frequently imposed upon, in the childishness of 
 their trust, and they became suspicious of all. But 
 in their cowardly slyness, as we now call their strata- 
 gems, some of the old attributes must have survived, 
 for the very reason that the brave of to-day has in 
 some things a likeness to the Avarrior of a century 
 ago. He endures : that is the likeness to his pro- 
 genitor which survives and renders him above scorn 
 for treachery and utter profligacy. 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT. 85 
 
 The writer has in his hands a little pamphlet, 
 written by an adjutant in a Western military 
 reserve, and circulated by his superior officer, de- 
 scribing a peculiar dance which he witnessed in the 
 Unquepapa country, where he was stationed in 1871. 
 Some of the features of this ghastly saturnalia are 
 gleaned from it here as a sample of human endur- 
 ance. 
 
 The sunflower dance is one of the most impor- 
 tant dances or ceremonies among the American 
 Indians, and at this dance new braves are admitted 
 to an equality with those already proved as braves, 
 who are called soldiers or principal warriors, and 
 have an extra lodge — a large wigwam — in every 
 big tribe, where no women are admitted, and where 
 they hold their councils. It is called the "sunflower 
 dance" on account of the season in which it occurs, 
 that is, in the month of June or July, when the river 
 edges are decked with a species of sunflower which 
 the Indian maidens use for decorating themselves 
 on this occasion. 
 
 The ground chosen for the dance is a level 
 stretch of land without tree or shrub, except one 
 young ash of about thirty feet high, and devoid of 
 limbs and branches for twenty feet from the ground. 
 
 A short distance from this ground the narrator 
 referred to saw several Indian grave-mounds, raised 
 
86 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 on high sticks above the ground, and each covered 
 with red and white blankets. Skeletons of horses 
 were lying at the foot of some of the graves, indi- 
 cating that some one held specially dear, as mother, 
 father, great warrior, or pretty w^oman, is buried 
 there. 
 
 It is the custom among these Indians to kill 
 a fine horse or a good mule on the graves of their 
 best friends, and give in this manner the coyote 
 and buzzard a feast, to keep them for awhile from 
 attacking the bodies of the beloved ones. In 
 communities of brave, simple people, however, even 
 from Homer's time, animals belonging to the dead 
 have been slaughtered, and w^ith a noble and more 
 poetic meaning than the one quoted above, which 
 may be only as the practical white American under- 
 stood it. 
 
 About 11 A.M. the Indians began to assemble 
 from all parts of the country, almost all on horses 
 or ponies, the men and women riding alike, astride. 
 
 The spectators posted themselves on the nearest 
 liills, from which they could best see the proceedings. 
 Those more immediately concerned in the dance 
 dispersed themselves, parading over tlie festival 
 grounds, all gayly dressed, and exhibiting on poles 
 their enemies' scalps. After gravely taking wliifFs 
 from a pipe, which was passed from hand to hand, 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT, 87 
 
 and blowing the smoke in two streams from tlie 
 nostrils, and raising their heads to the sun, by 
 which they meant to offer a sacrifice of incense to 
 the Great Spirit above, a drum w^as placed in the 
 centre of the braves, and each warrior produced a 
 thin ash branch, one end decorated with red ribbon. 
 The women sat on the ground, forming an outer 
 circle around the warriors, and began to sing, the 
 men beating the drum. 
 
 A chief, named Kill Eagle, now rose from the 
 ground, and stood looking around him for some 
 time in mute dignity, until a silence as of death 
 prevailed. He stands still, scanning the multitude 
 for perhaps ten minutes ; he does not speak, yet the 
 people evince no impatience — they are as still as 
 the hills around them. 
 
 At length the chief begins to speak in low but 
 impressive tones, which become louder as he pro- 
 ceeds, and furious and menacing as his subject 
 affects him. The substance of his discourse, which 
 lasted more than an hour, being the past glories of 
 the Sioux nation, the triumphs of their fathers in 
 war and in the chase; the courage displayed by his 
 people, and their honorable deaths in battles against 
 their foes; or in their lodges in their old age, sur- 
 rounded by their children and the scalps of their 
 enemites. 
 
88 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 He did not want his young men to think that 
 he alluded to his white brethren, with whom he 
 desired his people to be at peace, as it is the wish 
 of the Great Father that they should live as brothers. 
 But he meant those thieving, robbing Indians of 
 other tribes, whom it would please the Great Spirit 
 that they should punish for past crimes, such as 
 stealing their horses, carrying off their young women 
 to other tribes, and killing, when they could, any 
 hunter of his people whom they might find alone 
 on the prairie. 
 
 To punish those bad men they should have 
 brave men ; and as the number of his braves was 
 getting small, through the death of those lost in 
 battle and from old age, he wanted young blood in 
 their braves, to uphold the honor of his nation. 
 They did not want women to do their lighting, nor 
 men with women's hearts in their bosoms, but men 
 of tried courage and bravery. 
 
 He said that any of his young men that wished 
 to prove themselves as braves might prove it as 
 their fathers before fhem had done; that any of 
 them that did not feel his heart big should stay 
 among the women, and those who did come for trial 
 should remember that the eyes of their fathers, 
 mothers, sisters, sweethearts, and friends would be 
 upon them. * 
 
THE INDIAN SCOUT. 89 
 
 He said they should prove theraselves as men 
 able to endure, as brave men would do; that the 
 Great Spirit despises cowards, and forever- banishes 
 them from the happy hunting-grounds. 
 
 The time has sped on, and it is half-past twelve 
 now, and further crowds by this time have streamed 
 in. 
 
 The medicine-man now stands up and calls the 
 young men who are anxious for the trial. 
 
 About sixty stahvart young Indians from differ- 
 ent parts of the crowd now enter the ring and 
 throw^ ofi* their blankets. These are the candidates. 
 Drums beat, squaw-s sing; each youth has a wreath 
 of green leaves placed upon his head ; the pipe is 
 passed around ; four warriors step into the ring, two 
 carrying lassoes ; the first two approach the line of 
 3"oung men leading forth the first to the stake, and 
 the medicine-man throws the youth on his back 
 on the ground. 
 
 The medicine-man bending over the prostrate 
 man cuts two slits in his right breast, about an inch 
 apart and three inches long, and the blood flows 
 freely and trickles to the ground Then he cuts 
 two more slits in the left breast like those in the 
 rig] it, running the knife up and down under the 
 skin to raise it from the flesh. Next the end of a 
 lariat is passed under the skin, drawn across the 
 
90 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 breast and passed under the skin of the other cut, 
 and drawn so far through, as is sufficient to knot it 
 to the other part of the lariat in front of the breast. 
 
 He is then fastened by the lariat to the bare ash- 
 tree and is expected to free himself by breaking the 
 holds on his breast, for he cannot break the lariat. 
 He pulls and pulls, yells and jumps, but the skin is 
 tough. The crowds scream with delight. He tries 
 again, and breaks one hold. 
 
 The loss of blood and the pain w^eakens him 
 and he seems doomed. But two stout warriors seize 
 him by the shoulders and fling him from them 
 with ponderous force until they break the other 
 hold. 
 
 He rises from the ground, picks up his blanket 
 coolly, and retires. 
 
 The next young man steps forward. He has 
 cuts made in the calves of his legs to which are 
 fastened the skulls of buffalo-heads, and he is left 
 to dance and jump about till he breaks loose from 
 the skulls. 
 
 One young Unquepapa Sioux was so eager to 
 distinguish himself, that when he came to the trial 
 he walked in between four posts, having two in 
 front and two in the rear, and had four holes cut in 
 his breast, and four in his two shoulders; through 
 each of these holes a lariat is drawn and fastened 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT. 91 
 
 to the posts, having about three feet of the lariat 
 slack to allow him to move back and forth. He 
 began to jump and leap, sometimes straining on 
 the lariat in front, and then on the ones fastened to 
 his back; at other times jumping high, bringing 
 the strain equally on all the fastenings. So he 
 continued to jump and leap thus, like some wild 
 animal trying to leap out of a trap, for perhaps a 
 half-hour, but could not get one of the fastenings 
 loose, and at last he fainted from pain and loss of 
 blood. 
 
 A crowd of warriors gathered around him and 
 soon restored him to consciousness by pouring cold 
 water over him. 
 
 The lariats are still fastened to him, none daring 
 to loosen them, unless he desires it himself, or until 
 he dies. He is very weak now and is not able to 
 make any more efforts to free himself. 
 
 He calls for his horse, a stout snow-white Indian 
 pony, which is now brought into the ring, and two 
 of the lariats are unfastened from two of the posts 
 in his rear, and fastened to the pommel on the 
 saddle on the horse's back. The horse is turned 
 from him and gets a cut with a whip from one of 
 the warriors, and makes a leap forward. 
 
 These two lariats tear out from the young 
 brave's back, and he is lifted up from the ground 
 
92 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 where he has tumbled, and the other lariats fastened 
 to the saddle. 
 
 Then the horse is cut again with the whip, and 
 runs and pkniges, and the young brave is free. 
 
 He is picked up by some warriors and carried 
 from the ring, to all appearances dead, amid grunts 
 of approval. 
 
 This is the dance, as it is called, which causes the 
 mothers and fathers of the competing braves to feel 
 for many days prior to the trial uneasy for fear of 
 their sons failing to come off creditably to their man- 
 hood. 
 
 And these mothers, w^ishing to show that they 
 share their sons' sufferings, often have half a dozen 
 cuts made across their arms and breasts at the time 
 their offspring are under the torture. 
 
 But the young man who presents himself for such 
 trial and has not the courage to carry it through is 
 cut loose from his fastening with the knife; he must 
 give up all his horses, that greatest pride of the 
 Indian ; and should he be a chiefs son his heredi- 
 isiYj title is taken from him. He cannot join any 
 w^ar or hunting party, nor can he wear those orna- 
 ments that distinguish a brave, such as eagle 
 feathers or council dresses, and he is no more 
 considered in the tribe than a woman, until such 
 an occasion as the present is offered again, when he 
 
THE INDIAN SCOUT. 93 
 
 has another chance to redeem himself as a man and 
 a warrior. 
 
 And this after all the intermixture with civiliza- 
 tion and its modes and chances to make life easy 
 and to shirk traditional duties and consequences! 
 
 A hundred years ago, and at the period with 
 which this part of this narrative deals, the endur- 
 ance was there; but the perverted nature was 
 fresher from the source of perversion, more deadly 
 because of ihe newness of the perversion, than it is 
 now when savage life is only so by the protection of 
 laws of civilization. The state of the country and 
 the unprotected condition of the people Avere to a 
 great degree the impetus to get back possessions 
 which the red man claimed as his own still, and to 
 get them back the vaunted civilizing reason must 
 not be called into play, for reason had done little 
 but defraud them of what they now determined to 
 have again. So they resolved to deal with the 
 whites as they would with beasts of prey, and the 
 whites learned to look upon the Indian as a reptile, 
 possibly as a lion regards a viper. 
 
 " You cannot reason with an Indian," says a 
 writer of the times ; " he will listen to you with due 
 attention, whittling a stick as he does it, nods his 
 head, and grunts approval. The stick ho is whit- 
 tling is an arrow with which to pierce your heart 
 when you have done speaking." 
 
94 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 A missionary speaking with a young brave about 
 the wrong of his present line of action was rejoiced 
 to see the red man hold down his head and come 
 before him submissively. 
 
 " You are sorry for what you have done ?" asked 
 the missionary. 
 
 The Indian gave a grunt of affirmation. 
 
 "You wish to change your mode of life?" 
 
 The same grunt of affirmation. 
 
 " You wish me to extend the right hand of fellow- 
 ship and acknowledge you a member of the family 
 of God's children?" 
 
 A third time the Indian gave his grunt of appro- 
 val, and came closer yet. 
 
 "Then," said the missionary, "let my red brother 
 approach me, feeling sure that his sins, though they 
 be as scarlet, shall be made white as the driven snow. 
 Let my red brother give to mo the tomahawk in his 
 hand." 
 
 " My white brother can have it," said the savage, 
 raising his head for the first time — raising his hand 
 at the same time to bury the tomahawk in the brain 
 of the missionary. 
 
 To be as deceptive and treacherous as an Indian, 
 in the eyes of the white settlers, was eminently 
 necessary for self-protection. 
 
 The Indians sent forth spies in every direction, 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT. 95 
 
 and the wary white man never passed a day with- 
 out feeling assured that his most secret acts were 
 that night chronicled and commented en around 
 wigwam fires amid the dusky shadows of the woods. 
 
 This organized system of Indian spies placed the 
 settlers in the hands of the savages, and a reaction 
 was necessary, an offset to counteract the baneful 
 effect. 
 
 That counteraction came suddenly, and effect- 
 ually, in the person of the Indian scout. 
 
 He was not a scout, a murderer from choice, 
 because he wished a change from the monoton}^ of 
 life; the times allowed of little monotony. More 
 often than otherwise he was the victim of some base 
 outrage at the hands of the red man, entailing the 
 loss of wife, child, parent, or all together; and 
 instead of the love for those now dead implacable 
 hatred found a place in the breast. 
 
 There is the story of a man who, out hunting 
 one day, came home at night and entering his cabin 
 found no light there, and called aloud to his wife 
 and children, but received no response. He knew 
 that he must wait until morning to know what had 
 become of them; so all night long he paced up and 
 down within the narrow confines of the one room. 
 In the early light of dawn he saw upon the wall of 
 the room he had walked for hours in the darkness 
 
96 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the hanging and mutilated bodies of his family, 
 suspended by spikes through their hands. That 
 man became a scout. 
 
 Another man saw his youngest child dashed to 
 pieces from a rock where an Indian ran with it, 
 pursued by the father. That man also became a 
 scout. 
 
 A short time after the murder of John Wetzel 
 and capture and escape of the boys a conclave of 
 settlers was called in Wheeling one morning. They 
 met with closed doors. 
 
 In the midst of a harangue urging the necessity 
 of more protection against the hordes of wandering 
 Indians the door noiselessly opened and some one 
 entered. 
 
 The little place was crowded, and so intent were 
 the men, that they hardly knew of the entrance of 
 any one, till, working his way through them, a 
 young man, a mere boy, stood before the officers of 
 the meeting. 
 
 He was a dark faced lad, his eyes gleaming, his 
 hair matted with neglect and forest dews and even 
 then remarkably long and black. 
 
 " I wish to proclaim myself an Indian scout," he 
 said to the astonished men. 
 
 One of them took him by the shoulder. " How 
 did you dare to come here ?" he asked. 
 
TEE INDIAN SCO VT. 97 
 
 The lad shook off the hand. 
 
 " Will you recognize me as a scout?" he asked. 
 
 " Boy, do you know what you say ?" returned one 
 of the elders. 
 
 " I wish to become a scout !" 
 
 "Go away!" commanded the elder; "you are a 
 boy with a foolish man's tongue. You are dazed 
 by the talk of those around you. The life you 
 would lead is not all of romance. Go home !" 
 
 " Home!" echoed the lad bitterly. " Do you know 
 where my home is — that I have a home?" 
 
 "Go to your father then, and bid him keep a 
 stricter watch over you." 
 
 " Go to my father ? I wish I could !" said the boy 
 in louder tones and resisting those who would have 
 silenced him. " I tell you I have no father ; he is 
 dead ; I wish to hunt down his murderers — and I 
 will do this whether you recognize me as a scout or 
 not. Only I felt that a man as old as my father 
 was should sanction what I do." 
 
 The men were quieter now around him and did 
 not offer to turn him away. 
 
 The president of the meeting said, not unkindly : 
 
 " I am sorry for you, my lad. But if you loved 
 
 your father properly you would know that murder 
 
 and blood would scarcely purify your memory of 
 
 him. Doubtless your love has crazed you." 
 9 
 
98 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " I am sane." 
 
 " Wait then, my lad, until a time when you are 
 calm." 
 
 " Calm !" he cried. '' I shall never be that until I 
 avenge my father." 
 
 " ' Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord." 
 
 But the lad did not heed him, but stood panting 
 before them all, clutching his musket up to his 
 breast, his nerves alert, his head thrown back. 
 
 "My mother used to read that when I had a 
 home," he said. "You speak of the love I may 
 have had for my father. You do not know how I 
 loved him ; nor do I. I only know that the loss of 
 him has killed whatever "made me love him. It is 
 also thus with my brothers. We were a strong, 
 loving family. We were happy, careless boys ; my 
 father's death has made us reckless men. 
 
 "My father came from his birth-place, where 
 everything was well known and where he had 
 toiled and troubled for years ; he came out to these 
 wilds to encounter willingly far greater toils and 
 troubles to secure to us children ease and comfort. 
 Our father died in attempting this for us. 
 
 " Our mother was a brave woman who cared for no 
 
 possible trouble; she never quailed in difficulty and 
 
 distress, which was often all around her. She loved 
 
 my father : that made her brave. My father's death 
 
 \ 
 
THE^INBIAN SCOUT. 99 
 
 has made her a weak, trembling, frightened woman. 
 She saw him die. She is broken, and her bravery 
 died with what gave it to her — our father. We 
 wish to avenge a brave mother. Does not the Bible 
 say ' an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?' Did not 
 the Bible men avenge their fathers and mothers 
 and ruined homes ? Is not Christianity avenging 
 by civilization the murder of Christ ? You have no 
 right to deny me that which the Lord tells me is my 
 right, not merely my privilege." 
 
 The men looked at him in astonishment. Never 
 before had a boy spoken thus before men, — a boy 
 reared in these wilds at that, — a boy who had been 
 educated only from the Bible. They could not treat 
 him as a boy. That speech earned for him the 
 respect due to a man. It seemed almost as though 
 he pleaded for his father's life, as though the privil- 
 ege to hunt down the Indians were a prescription 
 that would restore his dead father to life. 
 
 There was a kindling in the eyes of those about 
 him. But the boy minded not that — only his desire 
 for respect, for his preferred calling was uppermost 
 in his mind, and all things else meant nothing. 
 
 "Sit down!" said the president, pushing a chair 
 towards him. The lad seemed not to hear him, and 
 continued standing. What answer ought they to 
 give a boy with noble instincts but perverted 
 reasoning ? 
 
100 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 " Who was your father ?" at last asked the presi- 
 dent. 
 
 "He was John Wetzel; he helped to found this 
 place," said the lad. 
 
 There was a murmur. Half the men there had 
 known John Wetzel personally, at one time or 
 another. 
 
 The president of the assembly himself was not a 
 stranger to the reckless man who had withstood the 
 advice of his friends and chose to settle beyond 
 their reach and protection. He looked down at the 
 lad, standing before him, and could not but feel 
 that John Wetzel's death had .been not altogether 
 as other men's — he had seemed to purchase it by 
 his very hardihood. But what of the lad ? 
 
 Whatever the president might have said was 
 unavailing, for he looked into the eyes of those 
 around him and saw but one answer to the prayer 
 of the boy who stood there : the boy was not to be 
 treated as a child. There was the respect due to a 
 man which he claimed and meant to obtain. 
 
 There were cries of " Treat the boy square I Don't 
 go agin the lad." 
 
 ** Go !" said the president to him. " You may do 
 what you think best." 
 
 " Do 3^ou give me the privilege of a scout ?" per- 
 sisted the boy. 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT. 101 
 
 "You are too young " began the president, 
 
 when his voice v/as drowned by cries of " Give it to 
 him I Give it to him !'' 
 
 "Very well, Lewis Wetzel," said the president, "we 
 recognize you as an Indian scout, and here's my 
 hand on it." 
 
 He held his hand out, but the lad seemed not to 
 see it. 
 
 Shouldering his old musket, he w\alked through 
 the lane made by the men, without a word, unlatched 
 the door, and walked away. Straight on he walked, 
 and the men gazing after him were silent as he. 
 
 He went determinedly to his mother and told her 
 what he meant to do, and left her trembling and 
 weeping. 
 
 "He did not even kiss me," she mourned; "and 
 he was always the most affectionate of the children. 
 And he was always the leader. If he goes, his 
 brothers w^ll not long remain here with me. I shall 
 be a widow and childless; my brave boys wull not 
 close my eyes in death, and I have tried to be a 
 good mother to them. It is bitter, bitter ! All my 
 energy, all my life, is gone from me. Oh for the 
 old time of my early married life ! Oh for the time 
 w^hen that boy rested a babe in his cradle in the 
 poor little home faraway! Oh for the time when 
 his father asked me would I come here, or stay in 
 
102 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the home that had known us both so long! Better 
 had we died among friends, though poor, than to 
 die here! For are w^e richer here? Is there as 
 much mine now as there was when I had my one 
 cow and two pigs ?" 
 
 " But he's gone because he's brave," said a little 
 maiden weeping with her and her little girls. It was 
 little Berta Rosencranz. 
 
 But no grief could bring him back again, no 
 prayers avail to turn from his purpose the boy whose 
 mind was so steadily set towards revenge. His little 
 sisters had gathered about the disconsolate woman, 
 and w^ere holding to her in perturbation, not yet 
 accustomed to the change in her, but doubtless w^on- 
 dering where was the active, tearless mother of old. 
 
 Berta had run to the Avindow^ though, and was 
 straining her neck far out to catch a glimpse of the 
 boy now far off. 
 
 " I see him !" she cried ; " he's going through the 
 grass towards the river." Then he disappeared from 
 her eyes. 
 
 He took the trail that led to his old ruined home, 
 and went and sat there and looked on the charred 
 embers that alone remained to tell the story of one- 
 time slielter and love. Ho sat there until night, 
 drinking in all the sense of desolation, no longer a 
 boy, but a man, with a wronged man's deadly sense 
 of one never-dying purpose. 
 
THE INDIAN SCO UT. 103 
 
 And at that same time, with his lonely mother, the 
 bright-eyed maiden sat and soothed, with pretty 
 words, the older woman's sorrow. 
 
 " I should be proud of him," said the girl. 
 
 " Not if you were a mother," sobbed the woman. 
 
 "If I were ten times a mother," said the girl, "I 
 should be glad to know that all my sons avenged 
 their father's death. What are women for if they 
 cry because a man steps up and defends them? If 
 I were a man, I'd do — I'd do " 
 
 "What would you do?" complained the mother. 
 "Would you break your mother's heart? That is 
 what children do most of all." 
 
 "Then mothers ought to get tougher hearts, if 
 they know what they've got to expect. If I was a 
 mother ten times over, I'd be tougher every time a 
 child would rise up to protect me. And if I was a 
 man I'd do as Lewis Wetzel has done — I'd be where 
 Lewis Wetzel is at this moment." 
 
 "And where is he?" asked the mother. Thereat 
 the girl threw herself into the woman's arms, weep- 
 ing her pretty eyes dull with a passion of fruitless 
 tears. 
 
 But no sound of all this reached the man who 
 caused it, as, sitting before the ruins of his one-time 
 home, he let the desolation of the scene enter into 
 his soul like the iron into his of sacred story. 
 
104 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 MAKTIN WETZEL. 
 
 "YTET of Lewis Wetzel no specially remarkable 
 action is recorded from the time of his escape 
 from Indian captivity till the year 1782, when he 
 was eighteen years old. It would seem that he 
 disappeared from the eyes of those who knew^ him, 
 until he could command a man's attention. His 
 boyish strength may not have been sufficient for his 
 would-be enterprise. And doubtless he recognized 
 the fact, and daily increasing his bodily endurance 
 patiently w^aited for the coming of manly vigor 
 which should gain him the vengeance he desired. 
 He said in after-years that this waiting time was 
 the discipline of his life. 
 
 There were raids on the red-skins all around him 
 when he again appeared, and he took a general part 
 in them, and never save in company with others; 
 but nothing w^as done to distinguish him from the 
 other half-wild boys of the settlers, who fought, like 
 him, for the honor and safety of those most dear to 
 them, — these boys who so often did the work of men 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 105 
 
 in tilling the soil and tracking the game necessary 
 for the daily food of the families. 
 
 Logan ^vas the second son of Shikellimus, and 
 this is the same person whom Heckewelder describes 
 as " a respectable chief of the Six Nations, who 
 resided in Shamokiii, Pennsylvania, as an agent to 
 transact business between them and the government 
 of the State.'' 
 
 In 1747, at a time when the Moravian mission- 
 aries were the object of much groundless hatred and 
 accusation, ShikelHmus invited some of them to 
 settle at Shamokin, and they did so. When Count 
 Zinzendorff and Conrad Vv^eiser visited the place, 
 several years before, they were very hospitably 
 entertained by the chief, who came out to meet them 
 (says Loskiel) with a large, fine melon, for which the 
 count politely gave him his fur cap in exchange ; 
 and thus commenced an intimate acquaintance. 
 
 Logan was a shrewd and sober man, not addicted 
 to drinking, like most of his countrymen, because 
 he never wished to become a fool. Indeed, he built 
 his house on pillars, for security against the drunken 
 Indians, and used to ensconce himself within it on 
 all occasions of riot and outrage. 
 
 Logan inherited the talents of his father, but not 
 his prosperity. Nor was this altogether his own 
 fault. He took no part, except that of peace- 
 
106 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 maker, in the French and English war of 1760, 
 and was ever, before and afterwards, looked upon as 
 emphatically the friend of the white man. But 
 never was kindness rewarded like this. 
 
 The countless stories that have come down to us 
 relative to this chief are doubtless not unknown to 
 many who read this narrative. For scarcely a book 
 that refers to Indian life is complete without a story 
 or anecdote of Logan. Yet one that has received little 
 attention, if any, came to the present writer from 
 the lips of an old trapper, whose father had told it 
 to him one day when they entered their claim for a 
 tract of land upon which had once stood the cabin 
 of the chief, no traces of which were now to be seen 
 amid the rank vegetation that covered the place. 
 
 Logan had built his house and had moved his 
 family into it, trying to live like the civilized white 
 men. He had made three chambers in the house, 
 one for himself and his wife, a second for that of his 
 children, while a third was reserved for any chance 
 stranger, Indian or white man, who might crave 
 shelter at his hands. 
 
 The trial must have been severe; four close walls 
 were suffocating to a man who had doubtless rarely 
 slept under a roof before, and in whose veins ran 
 the blood of an ancestry that had known nothing 
 of houses. But he was determined to act like a 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 107 
 
 civilized man, and to represent the progressive 
 element of the times. For nights he never slept, 
 and he could hear his wife complaining at his side ; 
 while in the adjoining chamber the rest of the family 
 were moving about discontentedly. After a repeti- 
 tion of such a night on five successive occasions, 
 Logan arose at last one night, after tossing about for 
 hours, and, hearing no sound from his wife, who 
 had laid herself upon the floor to tr}^ and snatch a 
 little sleep, which the newness of a bed had destroyed, 
 he concluded that she was happily resting. 
 
 "Lucky woman," he said. He moved carefully 
 about. He was determined to sleep, too, but he 
 could not sleep under a roof. Cautiously going to 
 the hole that served for a window, he threw himself 
 out upon the ground, dragging his blanket after 
 him, and, reaching a little hollow in the ground 
 formed by the trunks of some massive trees, he laid 
 himself down for a nap. 
 
 But he made up his mind not to sleep long, for 
 the wife and family must not know of this proceed- 
 ing, as he had determined when he built the house 
 that civilization must be followed, and that no 
 infringement upon it dare be allowed. He would 
 rest for an hour or so, and then he would regain the 
 house and nobody be the wiser. 
 
 It was comfortable here on the hard ground, 
 
108 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 beneath the twinkling stars, the free, fresh breezes 
 fanning his face and entering his nostrils. How he 
 enjoyed that sleep! He slept, at least, as he thought 
 he had never slept before ; certainly as he had not 
 slept since his house had been built. How^ long he 
 slept he did not know. He woke with a start. The 
 day w^as breaking, and in the east a faint pink glow 
 was spreading like the blush of a baby over the clear 
 sky. He gathered his blanket around him, and ran 
 precipitately toward the house. Suppose he had 
 been missed ! If any of those inside knew of this 
 escapade, there w^ould be no discipline of civilization 
 thereafter. 
 
 But none of those inside were to know. For, on 
 nearing the place, in the faint, early light, he saw a 
 shadow upon the w^all. He looked up, and there 
 was his wife's blanket hanging over the eaves, wdiile 
 one foot peeped down at him: she had got up in 
 the night and sought the roof for a bed. He was 
 startled; but he was startled the more wdien, on 
 hearing a suppressed yaw^n near at hand, he looked 
 about him and saw suspended from the window 
 of the second chamber two blanketed forms, — the 
 other members of the family. 
 
 The story does not go on to say how insomnia 
 under a roof was cured after this. But it is known 
 that this same house was presented by Logan to the 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 109 
 
 missionaries, and was held by them while the family 
 of the chief went farther up the country and built 
 another house there. 
 
 This second house claiming the admiration of the 
 missionaries, it was likewise presented to them. The 
 houses had been built with great exertiou, and 
 months had been taken up in their construction. 
 But so reverently did the chief regard the men who 
 had come to instruct the savage tribes and teach 
 them the truth of a God who kept not perpetual 
 hunting-grounds as a reward for the brave men he 
 called children, but who held in reserve peace and 
 rest for oppression, and long-suffering for those who 
 did their best towards establishing peace and rest 
 upon the earth, that he regarded his own worldly pos- 
 sessions as nothing if they could contribute to the 
 comfort of these teachers .of the universal religion. 
 
 Logan and his family worked for the white 
 teachers, gave them of their substance, and pro- 
 tected them from the incursions of warriors who did 
 not understand the teachings other than as further 
 modes of cheating and getting the upper-hand. 
 Logan stood the friend of these savages, too, how- 
 ever, and tried to make them comprehend, and 
 pitied them when they could not, as in very many 
 instances was the case. The settlers knew of all 
 
 this, and regarded Logan kindly, 
 10 
 
110 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 This was the man Lewis Wetzel haa heard of all 
 his life, and had been taught to believe in implicitly. 
 But now he doubted him and classed him with the 
 other red men, his sworn enemies, whom he meant 
 to kill. And others, too, now saw as he did. For 
 events had been represented to the simple settlers in 
 such a perverted form that rage burned in the bosoms 
 where affiliation had long endeavored and desired 
 to assert itself. 
 
 In the spring of 1774 a robbery and murder 
 occurred in some of the w^hite settlements on the 
 Ohio which were charged to the Indians, though, 
 perhaps, not justly, for it is well known that a large 
 number of civilized adventurers were traversing the 
 frontiers at this time, who sometimes disguised them- 
 selves as Indians, and who thought little more of 
 killing one of that people than of shooting a buffalo. 
 A party of these men, land-jobbers and others, 
 undertook to punish the outrage in this case, accord- 
 ing to custom (as Jefferson says in his Notes), in a 
 summary way. 
 
 Colonel Cresap, a man infamous for the many 
 murders he had committed on that much-injured 
 people, collected a party of white men and went in 
 quest of vengeance. A canoe of women and children 
 was seen coming down the Kanawha, and there was 
 laughing and happiness, the little floating party not 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. Ill 
 
 at all suspecting an attack from the whites. Cresap 
 and his party concealed themselves on the bank of 
 the river, and the moment the canoe reached the 
 shore, singled out their objects, and at one fire killed 
 every person in it. 
 
 This happened to be the family of Logan, inno- 
 cent and friendly inclined. Shortly after this, 
 another massacre took place, not far from Wheel- 
 ing; a considerable party of the Indians being 
 decoyed by the whites, and all, with the exception 
 of a little girl, murdered. Among these, too, were 
 both a brother of Logan and a sister, the delicate 
 condition of the latter increasing a thousand-fold 
 both the barbarity of the crime and the rage of the 
 survivors of the family. 
 
 Logan, therefore, came sternly from his cabin, 
 w^here he had meant peace, and distinguished him- 
 himself by his daring and bloody exploits in the 
 war which now ensued between the Virginians on 
 the one side and a combination of Shawnees, Min- 
 goes, and Delawares on the other. The civilized 
 party prevailed, as usual, and wiped out a consider- 
 able number of Indians. But " many of their dead 
 they scalped, rather than we should have them," 
 says the white historian; and naively goes on to 
 narrate : " but our troops scalped upwards of twenty 
 of those who were first killed." 
 
112 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Thus did the superior whites imitate what they 
 looked upon with abhorrence at the hands of the 
 base savage. It was at the treaty after this battle 
 that Logan, the much-injured man, made this noble 
 speech : 
 
 " I appeal to any white man to say if he ever 
 entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not 
 meat; if he ever came cold and naked, and he 
 clothed him not. During the course of the last 
 long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his 
 cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love 
 for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they 
 passed, and said : ' Logan is the friend of white 
 men.' I had even thought to have lived with you, 
 but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, 
 the last spring, in cold blood and unprovoked, mur- 
 dered all the relations of Logan, not sparing even 
 my women and chiklren. There runs not a drop 
 of my blood in the veins of any living creature! 
 This called on me for vengeance. I have sought 
 it; I have killed many; I have fully glutted my 
 vengeance. For my countr}^ I rejoice at the beams 
 of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine 
 is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will 
 not turn on his lieel to save his life. Who is tLcro 
 to mourn for Logan? — Not one !" 
 
 The eloquence in this speech is incomparable. 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 113 
 
 No wonder the man was called a prophet ! He was 
 a man in advance of his times, and the times were 
 sufficiently startling for the settlers, and they had not 
 the leisure nor inclination to study out the excel- 
 lences of one character when they had all the}" could 
 do to subvert the evil intentions of characters less 
 prone to good. He stood alone, aloof from friends an d 
 foes, unknowing friends, with foes on every side. It 
 is probable that his own blood hated him more than 
 the strangers did ; he represented the progressive 
 element, and such an element must ever appear 
 more aggressive to friends who do not partake of it 
 than to foes who are in a like state of ostracism from 
 its influence. If the man understood his own incli- 
 nations, it is as much as — indeed, more than — could 
 have been expected of him in the minds of calm, 
 rational reasoners. 
 
 In the most peaceful and settled age, when art 
 and science both contend to make thought the 
 common property, a new element appearing creates 
 in the minds of the mass a wonder not unmixed 
 with ridicule. Any subversion of established usage 
 excites, first, opposition, which means oppression ; 
 then ridicule, which is the loosening of the oppres- 
 sion, and the establishing of the principle upon the 
 plane of equality; then adoption of the principle, 
 which is its elevation to superiority over its sur- 
 roundings. 
 
114 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Logan thus represented principle, but it is doubt- 
 ful if he ever got beyond the first grade, that of 
 oppression, with his fellows. He had every right to 
 look to civilization to uphold him, but the acts of his 
 own people had caused civilization to pause; and 
 a pause in any attempted improvement is a retrogres- 
 sion. He appealed to the white settlers; he said 
 that he wanted to be as they were ; he wanted their 
 sympathies and their most thoughtful encourage- 
 ment. He claimed a standing with them because 
 he knew the workings of his own mind, and wdiat 
 he most deserved at the hands of the whites. 
 
 But what could such noble words mean to the 
 uncultivated settlers? They had received too much 
 wrong, vengeance intended for aggressors, not them- 
 selves, to see any nobility in any red man. Logan 
 represented merely one of his abhorred race. They 
 knew far more of the wrongs they themselves had 
 suffered than of the deceits practiced upon the 
 Indians, for with the honest settler there was too 
 much to do about his own little preserve for him to 
 bother himself even with deceit to the savages. And 
 so Logan might speak of the loss of his family, but 
 had they not lost families too? How could Logan's 
 empty wigwam appeal to the boy Lewis AVctzcl? 
 There were not even the blackened walls of his own 
 happy home remaining and heavy, tall grass oblit- 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 115 
 
 erated the very landmarks his father had set up by 
 dint of months and years of toiL And what of 
 Logan's murdered family? Where was the father 
 who had been watched for day after day, month 
 after month, year after year, by the boy on the little 
 green knoll ? 
 
 The line of argument most popular at this time 
 was : 
 
 " Can w^e trust Logan T 
 
 "Can Indians be trusted?" 
 
 " They cannot." 
 
 " Therefore we cannot trust an Indian." 
 
 " Must we pity Logan ?" 
 
 "Do Indians pity us?" 
 
 " They do not." 
 
 " Therefore we cannot pity an Indian." 
 
 "But should not Logan, at least, be tolerated?" 
 
 "What is toleration? It is trust and pity. To 
 tolerate Logan is to trust and pity an Indian." 
 
 The boy Vretzel heard all such arguments around 
 him, and was too young to understand anything but 
 the rights of the settlers which had been infringed 
 upon and violated by Indians. He bated a word 
 i:i ilivcr of the red man; he is known to have 
 cii^-Ligcd in bitter quarrels witli pcor-lo who advo- 
 cated a peaceable adjustment of dimculties. For 
 peace, meant a giving-in, an acknowledgment that 
 
116 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 the Indian had not been treated fairly; when, in 
 fact, the Indian had been treated so fairly that he 
 was allowed to live, and every white man's hand by 
 ri gilts ought to be raised against a red man. 
 
 " It must not be !" he said ; " it shall not be ! When 
 my time comes it will not be. There is no peace for 
 an Indian but what a bullet gives him." 
 
 So Lewis Wetzel bided his time and waited for a 
 man's strength. 
 
 And it was even as the mother had said. Martin, 
 too, was bent on revenge. An expedition was set on 
 foot in 1780 to j)roceed against and destroy the 
 Indian towns situated on the Coshocton, a small 
 branch of the Muskingum Kiver. The main place 
 of rendezvous was Wheeling. Colonel Brodhead, a 
 soldier of more than local distinction, assumed the 
 command. Martin Wetzel was a volunteer in the 
 campaign. The officers of those wild frontier armies 
 were too often only such in name; for every soldier 
 under them acted as seemed right in his own judg- 
 ment and particular case. 
 
 Cheered out of Wheeling, this little army of four 
 hundred men immediately took up the line of march 
 and went forward rapidly in order to fall upon the 
 Indian towns by surprise, and before any of the red 
 spies, ever on the alert, should apprize the aggressed 
 of the approach of foes. 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. HJ 
 
 Colonel Brodhead, taking his men secretly along, 
 soon surrounded one of the Indian towns before 
 those inside were at all aware of the proximity of 
 any danger. 
 
 " Every man, woman, and child were made pris- 
 oners, without the firing of a gun." (Pritt's Border 
 Life.) 
 
 We read further on : " Among the prisoners were 
 sixteen warriors. A little after dark a council of 
 war was held to determine on the fate of the war- 
 riors in custody. They were doomed to death, and 
 by the order of the commander were bound, taken 
 a little distance below the town, and dispatched 
 with tomahawks and spears, and then scalped." 
 
 The first tomahawk raised was in the hand of 
 Martin Wetzel. 
 
 In the grim work of death, with a kind of fiendish 
 pleasure, he sunk into the heads of the unresisting 
 Indians a weapon which in hands like theirs had 
 caused the death of his father. 
 
 For the tomahawk was as much used by the 
 whites as by the red men, and with an equal 
 dexterity. 
 
 "Early the next morning an Indian presented 
 himself on the opposite bank of the river and asked 
 for the ' Big Captain.' Colonel Brodhead presented 
 himself, and asked what the Indian wanted. To 
 which he replied : ^ I want peace/ 
 
118 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " ^ Send over some of your chiefs,' said Brodhead. 
 
 " ' Maybe you kill,' said the Indian. 
 
 " He was answered : ' They shall iiot be killed. 
 
 ''One of the chiefs, a good-looking man, came over 
 the river, and entered into conversation with the 
 commander in the street; but, while engaged in 
 conversation, Martin Wetzel came up behind him 
 with a tomahawk concealed in the bosom of his 
 hunting-shirt, and struck him on the back of the 
 head. 
 
 " The poor Indian fell, and immediately expired. 
 
 "This act of perfidy and reckless revenge the com- 
 mander had no power, if he had had the disposi- 
 tion, to punish, as probably two-thirds of the army 
 approved the treacherous deed." 
 
 The next day the army commenced its retreat 
 from Coshocton. 
 
 Colonel Brodhead committed the prisoners to the 
 militia. 
 
 They were about twenty in number. 
 
 After they had marched about half a mile, the 
 men commenced killing them. 
 
 Again was the deadly weapon of Martin Wetzel 
 crimsoned with the blood of his life-long foes. 
 
 And, like his younger brother, such was his 
 indomitable spirit of revenge that no i)lace nor 
 circumstance was sacred enough to preserve the 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 119 
 
 life of an Indian when once within his grasp, and 
 the word " treachery" was never employed by the 
 settlers in any act that decoyed an Indian into their 
 power. 
 
 In a short time they were all dispatched except a 
 few women and children, who were spared aiid 
 taken to Fort Pitt, and after some time exchanged 
 for an equal number of their prisoners. 
 
 Some years after this horrible bloodthirsty action, 
 but which in the eyes of the settlers the circum- 
 stmces of the time seemed to render unavoidable, 
 Martin Wetzel, hunting in the forest, was surprised 
 and taken prisoner by a party of predatory Indians. 
 
 He remained with them a considerable length of 
 tin:ie, and by his great cheerfulness and apparent 
 satisfaction disarmed their suspicion, acquired much 
 of their confidence, and was adopted into one of 
 their families, as vras £on:ietimcs the case when the 
 mode of savage life seemed congenial to a captive. 
 
 But all this seeming gratification Avas the veriest 
 dissimulation; although Martin AVctzel showed a 
 cheerful countenance, in his heart was the brooding 
 spirit of revenge, and plans for his escape engaged 
 every minute of his captivity. 
 
 Tie desired, too, to niake that escape memorable 
 by some tragic action of revenge. 
 
 How much ho overreached, by his acting, tho 
 credulity of his entertainers, the sequel will show. 
 
120 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 He was to all intents and purposes free; he hunted 
 with them, he danced and frolicked, and appeared 
 thoroughly satisfied w^ith the course affairs had 
 taken, never showing distaste, although the Indians 
 knew who he was and what had been the fate of his 
 father. 
 
 In the fall of the year his dread chance came. 
 
 He and three young chiefs set out to make a fall 
 hunt to supply the winter stores of flesh. 
 
 They pitched their camp near the head of the 
 Sandusky River. 
 
 During the hunting he was careful to return to 
 the camp in the evening, prepare the wood for the 
 night-fire, and do all the other duties of camp 
 necessity; for he knew that, although he was 
 trusted, his companions were ever on tl*e alert, and 
 that maybe he had been taken on this hunt merely 
 to test the truthfulness of his protestations, and 
 should any slip occur he would suff'er for it. 
 
 By the line of conduct which he adopted he 
 lulled any suspicion they might have entertained 
 of him, and little by little he saw the half-averted 
 glance of discretion give way to open looks of full 
 confidence. 
 
 One evening, while hunting and belated, he came 
 across one of his Indian camp-mates. 
 
 The Indian was full of their mutual exploits, and 
 praised the white man's wondrous aim. 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 121 
 
 " My father taught me," said Martin sententious! y. 
 
 The Indian looked at him, for he knew the tale 
 of John Wetzel's fate. 
 
 But Martin's face was calm and unperturbed, and 
 the chief went on with his talk. 
 
 The white man "svatched for a favorable oppor- 
 tunity, and, the Indian's attention being called in an 
 opposite direction, he shot him down, scalped him, 
 and threw his body into a hole made by the tearing 
 up of a tree by the wdnd, and covered the motionless 
 form with logs and brush. 
 
 He then hurried to the camp, and prepared the 
 wood for the night-fire as usual. 
 
 When night came down, and the missing one not 
 returning, Martin expressed great concern at the 
 absence of their companion. 
 
 " Does my white brother w^orry about a warrior?" 
 laughed one of the Indians. 
 
 For they did not appear in the least out of counte- 
 nance or disconcerted on account of the non-arrival 
 of the other, and dismissed the subject entirely from 
 their minds as too trivial to entertain, ate their 
 supper, and lay down to sleep. 
 
 Martin had gone too far now to retreat. He lay 
 down with the others, but sleep was never further 
 from his brain. The two Indians were soon uncon- 
 scious. Being now determined at all hazards to 
 11 
 
122 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 escape, the question for Martin AVetzel to decide in 
 his mind was whether he should attack hoth Indians 
 while they slept, or watch for an opportunity of 
 dispatching them one at a time. 
 
 The latter plan seemed likelier to thwart fdUire. 
 Early the next morning he prepared to execute his 
 desperate plan. He was still apparently anxious 
 ahout the continued absence of the chief, who had 
 failed to come last night. 
 
 " It makes my white brother whiter, this fear," 
 again laughed one of the remaining Indians, look- 
 ing on the pallid and set face of the determined 
 man. 
 
 Wetzel made no reply, merely turning away. 
 Then the two red men set out on their hunt alone, 
 while death pursued them in the shape of Martin 
 AVetzel, creeping like Fate through the brush after 
 them. All day he followed stealthily, keeping them 
 in view. Towards night he came boldly up to them, 
 and began speaking and asking about their day's 
 sport. One of the Indians sauntered off, and Martin 
 detained the other over some imaginary game until 
 his fellow was far away. Then, with one fell sweep 
 of the tomahawk, he laid the red-skin lifeless on the 
 ground. 
 
 "This for my father!" he said, and scalped the 
 savage and threw the body into a sink-hole, and 
 
MARTIN WETZEL. 123 
 
 made his way through brake and briar to the camp 
 to meet the remaining Indian. 
 
 He had not come when Martin arrived there, and, 
 throwing branches on the fire, he sat down and 
 waited, and soon saw the brave, by the light of the 
 fire, now fiercely flaming, coming slowly on with a 
 burden of game thrown across his shoulders. With 
 a strange, half-stifled cry of joy, the white man hur- 
 ried forward, under the pretense of aiding in dis- 
 encumbering the hunter of his load. 
 
 " Stoop !" he said ; " stoop !" 
 
 When the Indian stooped down to have the game 
 detached from his back, tlie tomahawk, already so 
 imbrued with the blood of his kin, sunk into his 
 brain, and Wetzel stood alone in the blackness of 
 the night, guiltless in his own eyes. There was no 
 danger of pursuit, so he proceeded very leisurely, 
 and packed up whatever of the camping imple- 
 ments he deemed he most needed and could most 
 conveniently carry, and made his way to the white 
 settlements wdth the three Indian scalps dangling 
 from his belt of wampum, after an absence of a 
 year. Those who saw him coming over the hills* 
 and recognized him, despite his Indian trappings, 
 cheered and greeted him as a hero. For the men 
 who rid the country of a pest and protected other- 
 wise defenseless women and children were the right 
 
124 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 arm of the law, the strength of an exposed people. 
 What they did, by whatever means they succeeded, 
 could not be thought other than brave, the risks of 
 success alone being considered, let alone their 
 willingness to endure for the sake of those they 
 resolved should endure no suffering. 
 
 Thus Martin Wetzel's acts of comparative perfidy, 
 as it seems to us afar off, could meet w^ith nothing 
 but the approval of his countrymen upon this and 
 similar occasions, and the greater his ingenuity and 
 cunning to meet a like ingenuity and cunning, the 
 greater the meed of praise and approval. 
 
A MASSACRE, 125 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A MASSACRE. 
 
 A T last, at the age of eighteen, and when his oath, 
 if it were yet remembered in the community, 
 was thought of as the mere explosive impulse of a 
 boy, and his seeking for the title of scout but a like 
 impulse, Lewis Wetzel comes upon the stage, a man, 
 hardened by enforced exposure, strong of sinew, 
 stern of mind, — a warrior. 
 
 He was moulded of the stuff that makes men 
 gods in the eyes of their contemporaries, and the 
 question naturally arises, whether, had the cause of 
 his provocation been directed at another time and 
 season, and against a more civilized people, he would 
 not have lived in the annals of history a figure for 
 the admiration of future ages, instead of gaining 
 the mere local fame of a harassed and nervous com- 
 munity. 
 
 His bravery was never questioned, his endurance 
 was marvelous, his intensity and perseverance un- 
 surpassed, his cool-headedness and calmness in 
 refusing to wreak his vengeance upon those in 
 
126 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 liis power, unless they were of his sworn enemies 
 and men, proved the attributes of a successful 
 general and an idol of a thinking people. But 
 tlie people who most relied upon him were more 
 active than thoughtful, more grim than senti- 
 mental; and while he defended them they con- 
 sidered that he was revenging his own wrongs; and 
 while they admired him they resolved that had 
 they felt as he did their acts would have been as 
 his. They did not deprecate him ; they appreciated 
 him to the full. But he was only one of themselves. 
 They had known him from his earliest childhood. 
 His bravery was often said to be mere recklessness 
 of consequences, and to idolize the man would have 
 been to fall down and worship qualities wdiich every 
 man, as wrought upon as he, possessed in common 
 with him. 
 
 Those who saw him come into Wheeling in the 
 spring, when he had turned his eighteenth year, 
 described him as being a harsh-featured man, taci- 
 turn, and not given to indiscriminate conviviality. 
 He joined in none of the few enjoyments which 
 mankind, no matter how oppressed and overridden, 
 will institute; he rarely held converse with those 
 about him. But chihh'cn and dogs loved hiin, and 
 women pitied him, as women so often will lind a 
 subject for pity in what men call uncongenial and 
 above or beneath them. 
 
A MASSACRE, 127 
 
 Again must old Eberly come to the fore: "Lewis 
 Wetzel," lie writes on the leaves of coarse paper 
 which are now crumbling and difficult to tran- 
 scribe, " is not so bad as hee is represented. Ilee is 
 often where there is sickness, and a man that had 
 small-pox* had no other nurse, and no one knew it 
 until the man hee was well once more." 
 
 He appears to have loitered about the settlements 
 for awhile, and then he saw his chance. He enlisted 
 as a soldier in that disastrous campaign of Colonel 
 Crawford in 1782. His mother, hearing of this 
 enlistment, paid little attention to it. 
 
 "He never minded me," she said, "and he don't 
 care if I am murdered, so that he can go do murder 
 himself It is his place to stay here and protect me 
 and his sisters, and provide a home for us, instead 
 of doing as he does. Are there no other men to do 
 the work? We have suffered enough, I should hope. 
 I have no patience with him." 
 
 This change from her old life of bravery was only 
 another impulse to lead her son away from her to 
 revenge the brave woman she had once been, and 
 who had now sunk into the ntterer of chronic com- 
 plaints, never weary of lauding her dead husband's 
 virtues and comparing them to tlie lack of thein in 
 her sons. She was never to gauge the feelings of a 
 mind like that of her son — how many of those 
 
128 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 around him did? He was one of many — that was 
 all they saw. 
 
 It is said of him that he had placed a pile of 
 stones on the spot where his father's body had lain 
 in the grass after the murder, and this shrine he 
 appeared to regard with something of the supersti- 
 tion of the Indians themselves. lie did not offer 
 propitiatory sacrifice upon it, it is true, but when he 
 was tired out and breathless from any exertion he 
 had taken in order to test his strength he would 
 wend his way to this pile of stones almost as tliough 
 he went to conciliate his father's troubled spirit that 
 might not rest until it was avenged. 
 
 Under this pile of stones, too, it is also asserted, 
 he had contrived a receptacle for his powder and 
 bullets, and he made his bullet-moulds here and 
 heated the lead upon the pile. Often at night 
 there would be seen the little thread of flame leap- 
 ing from the pyramidal heap as he poured his 
 metal and shaped the leaden messengers of death. 
 
 The Indians saw that flame, we may be sure, and 
 investigated it. Whether they understood it or not 
 is not for us to say; but it is also said in tradition 
 tluit the savages rarely came into the immediate 
 vicinity of that stone heap, and that more than one 
 brave has been seen speeding away in the darkness 
 when he had come to ascertain the meaning]: of the 
 
A MASSACHE. 129 
 
 weird light and found a haggard boy silently stand- 
 ing before the flame, his face stern as Fate and as 
 relentless. He had thousands of bullets stored away 
 in this place, and when he left the neighborhood the 
 settlers were at liberty to help themselves to what 
 remained. 
 
 This was when he was as yet young and the time 
 was heavy on his hands ; when he had grown older, 
 he had more to do than spend his days in idle pour- 
 ing of lead ; he then deemed that the mound was 
 sentimental, and so he tore it apart and scattered 
 the stones. At the time of Crawford's expedition he 
 had obliterated this mark of his memory of his 
 father. 
 
 He had now gained a man's strength, a man's 
 steadiness of nerve and purpose, if he had lacked 
 these last two essentials before. 
 
 As a short preliminary to Crawford's failure, it 
 may be well to speak briefly of the events which 
 led to this campaign, in which the Moravian Indians 
 were so terribly avenged. 
 
 Somewhere about the year 1772 some devout 
 Moravian brethren succeeded, after untold hard- 
 ships, in establishing a little Indian community 
 which embraced the faith and collected in three 
 villages on the Muskingum. " 
 ^ The villages were known as Schoenbrunn, Salem, 
 
130 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 and Gnadenhuetten. Here they lived amicably 
 with all men, the precepts of the Mingo chief, 
 Logan, entreating them to give up war and culti- 
 vate the soil. 
 
 Their number, increased by new accessions, in a 
 short time was not less than four hundred souls. 
 
 They thus occupied a position midway between 
 the advanced posts of the whites and the camping- 
 grounds of some of the hostile Indians, and, prac- 
 ticing a quiet, peaceful demeanor, hateful alike to 
 their white and red neighbors, they were accused 
 alternately by each of privately favoring the other. 
 
 In the latter part of the year 1781 the bands of 
 militia of the frontier came to the determination to 
 break up these peaceful Moravian towns. They 
 were called the ^' half-way house of the warriors," 
 and the term was used in deadly derision by the 
 fierce and lawless frontiermen, who despised the 
 peaceable Indians for supposed treachery because 
 they opened their doors alike to every comer. 
 
 A detachment of men, under the command of 
 Colonel David Williamson, went out from the border 
 with the avowed intention of inducing the Indians 
 by calm reasoning to move farther off, with the 
 further cool alternative that if they refused to 
 accede to the militia they would all be brought 
 prisoners to Fort Pitt. 
 
 \ 
 
A MASSACRE. 131 
 
 When they arrived at the Moravian towns, but 
 very few Indians were found, and these mostly in- 
 firm or old, the main body having removed to 
 Sandusky. 
 
 These few remaining ones were taken to the fort 
 and apparently well treated by the commandant, 
 and afterwards they were allowed to return to their 
 homes. 
 
 This manner of proceeding against the red man 
 greatly incensed the country people who still ad- 
 hered to the rule of total extinction as regarded 
 Indians once reduced to captivity. 
 
 Colonel Williamson, who, prior to this episode, 
 had been one of the most popular of men on 
 account of his brave war record, now became the 
 object of popular hatred and suspicion, and his 
 leniency towards the Moravian Indians was held 
 up as his reproach, and wholly obliterated his well- 
 known bravery. 
 
 On the other hand, the peaceably inclined In- 
 dians fell under the dire suspicion of the Indian 
 warriors who had been pressed into the service of 
 the British against the colonies, or States, as they 
 now began to be called, and also of the English 
 commandant stationed at Detroit. To this com- 
 mandant it was viciously reported that the pious 
 teachers of these Moravian Indians were in close 
 
132 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 confederacy with the American Congress, for the 
 purpose of preventing, not their own people alone, 
 but likewise the Delawares and a few other nations 
 of red warriors, from entering into war against the 
 rebelling American colonists. 
 
 The many and frequent failures of the hostile 
 Indians against the white settlements were attrib- 
 uted to the Moravians, who sent runners to Fort 
 Pitt to give notice of their approach and thus pre- 
 pare to receive them ; and this charge was certainly 
 true. In the spring of 1781 the war-chief of the 
 Delawares apprised the missionaries and their pros- 
 elytes of their danger, both from the angry w'hites 
 and the hostile Indians, and advised them to remove 
 to a place of security. 
 
 This advice was not acted upon, and what the 
 chief prophesied was fulfilled to the letter; for in 
 the fall of that same year (1781) the Moravian settle- 
 ments were burned by upwards of three hundred 
 Indian w^arriors, their peaceful villages laid w^aste, 
 their smiling fields of grain desolated, their beasts 
 taken from them, and the bewildered and unhappy 
 converts to Christ turned into the trackless wilder- 
 ness once more, murmuring against the power of 
 the God of the white man for not protecting them 
 in their time of need, and doubting the good mis- 
 sionaries for fools and madmen. 
 
A MASSACRE. 133 
 
 Winter came on, and they still trudged from 
 place to place seeking staying-ground, and finding 
 none. Many of them perished from cold and 
 famine. But the tender teachings of Christianity 
 could not hecome wholly erased from their minds, 
 and while they felt degraded in the eyes of their 
 hostile red brothers, they yet looked upwards for 
 that aid and succor which the missionaries had told 
 them would surely come, and consequently they 
 would not disavow their belief and join their savage 
 brethren. 
 
 But the missionaries were not with them now: 
 they had been taken prisoners, robbed of nearly 
 everything they possessed, and then sent to the 
 commandant at Detroit, where, after being strictly 
 examined by a council of British officers, they w^re 
 permitted to go free. 
 
 This removal of the Indians from their peaceful 
 Christian villages was instigated mainly by three 
 white men, — Alexander McKee, Matthew Elliott, 
 and the renegade Simon Girty. 
 
 The hostility of these three men fo the Americans 
 was unbounded, and they were continually (before 
 their plans reached fruition) plotting the destruction 
 of the Christian Indians as the means of inveigling 
 the Delaware nation into a bloody war with the 
 patriot colonists. A plot was laid at Sandusky to 
 12 
 
134 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 waj'lay and murder the missionary Zeisberger and 
 bring in his scalp; and Simon Girty himself con- 
 ducted the party to Sandusky for that purpose, the 
 frustration of Avhich chagrined him and added new 
 fuel to his fiery spite. 
 
 In the latter part of February following, the fam- 
 ished condition of the Indians wandering over the 
 bare plains of Sandusky compelled about a hun- 
 dred and fifty to return to their ruined towns on 
 the Muskingum to try and find among the deso- 
 lated hearth-stones a few remnants of their once 
 plentiful stores of food for their rapidly-starving 
 families. 
 
 They came in the night, and, numb with the 
 piercing cold, they gathered a little wasted corn. 
 They were discovered in the morning, and, without 
 any further provocation, and wholly without resist- 
 ance, nearly a hundred of these unofi^nding, starv- 
 ing creatures were deliberately murdered — by white 
 men. 
 
 There had been some murders committed by the 
 red enemies of these peaceable In\lians, near the 
 Ohio, in the month of February, and the visit for 
 food to their broken homes by the Moravians 
 created a pretext of charging them with the crime. 
 
 Accordingly, between eighty and ninety men were 
 hastily gathered together and placed under the 
 
A MASSACRE. 135 
 
 command of Colonel Williamson, who was told that 
 this was his chance to vindicate himself in the eyes 
 of the people. 
 
 The company encamped the first night on the 
 Mingo bottom, the west side of the Ohio, about 
 sixty miles below Fort Pitt. 
 
 The second day's march took them to within a 
 mile or so of the central Moravian town. 
 
 Early the following morning the men were 
 divided in two equal parties, one of wdiich was 
 deputed to cross over the river about a mile above 
 the town. The remaining party was cut up into 
 three divisions, one of w^hich was to make a circuit 
 of the woods and reach the river a short distance 
 below the town, on the eastern side; another divis- 
 ion was to fall into the centre of the town; and the 
 third and remaining division was to enter the 
 devastated place at its upper end. 
 
 Thus the physically weakened Indians, who had 
 embraced the faith professed by these militiamen, 
 were hemmed in on all sides, and while they 
 searched for food to keep off starvation, they w^ere 
 approached as though they had been tyrants on the 
 defensive. 
 
 When sixteen of the party designed to make the 
 attack had crossed the river, their two sentinels came 
 across an Indian called Shabosh. 
 
136 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The man was eating raw maize. One of the 
 sentinels broke his arm by a shot, but, heedless of 
 the pain, he kept cramming the maize into his dry 
 mouth with his sound hand, looking wildly about 
 him. 
 
 The other sentinel then fired and killed him. 
 
 The two together then tomahawked and scalped 
 him. 
 
 Fearing that the firing of the guns which had 
 done this deed would warn the Indians in the town 
 of their approach, they went hurriedly ta the party 
 who were to begin the attack and advised them to 
 move on immediately, which was done. 
 
 In the meantime the little party which had 
 crossed the river marched to the main town, on the 
 west side. Here they found a company of the In- 
 dians gathering the rotting corn left in their fields 
 when the British Indians the previous fall had 
 driven them away. 
 
 The white party, coming up, professed delight at 
 coming across the Christian Indians who had been 
 so savagely treated and told them to have no fear. 
 
 " Peace be with you," said the leader of the white 
 band ; " we have come to lead you to a place where 
 all is plenty, and where corn is wasted for want of 
 use. We will take you to Fort Pitt, where friends 
 are waiting for you." 
 
A MASSACRE. 137 
 
 " Has the peaceable Indian a friend ?" asked an 
 Indian emaciated and worn. '' Are not his white 
 and his red brethren equally his enemies ?" 
 
 " Those enemies are not the professors of a fiiith 
 like you," was the reply. 
 
 "And is our faith yours?" asked the red man 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Do we not offer you shelter and food and pro- 
 tection?" responded the white man. 
 
 The Indian looked wistfully around at his own 
 little party, so cold, so sick, so famished. Then he 
 held his hand out to the white man, saying : 
 
 " The white man's God is true, after all. We had 
 begun to doubt if all the missionaries told Us could 
 be true. In our desolation and wanderings, thrust 
 one way, then another, we feared the tales of a 
 guarding and forgiving God were but as a legend, 
 and that He was as revengeful as the Indian's 
 * Manitou.' " 
 
 The white man was evidently disconcerted by the 
 simple faith of the Indian, and he turned aside. 
 But the stern faces of the men under him left him 
 no choice. 
 
 " We have no legends," he said to the Indian ; 
 " we have no souls that go to birds and beasts at our 
 death, as the tales of the Manitou have." 
 
 " The white man's God takes the souls of those 
 who trust in Him to himself" said the Indian. 
 
138 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Again the white man turned away. 
 
 " Maybe my white brother never heard the story 
 of the whip-poor-will?" said the Indian, smiling 
 conciliatorily, a bird far off piping a melancholy 
 note. 
 
 "What is it?" asked the white man; "the tale?" 
 
 " In a few words I will tell it. A white trader 
 sold liquor and beads to Indians for their peltries, 
 -the skins of the animals the Indians had captured. 
 It said the white man always made the Indians 
 drunk before he traded with them and thus gained 
 advantage over them. The white man was called 
 Wilhelm; he was a Dutch settler. When the In- 
 dians upbraided him because of his perfidy, he 
 would say : ' You can whip poor Wilhelm if he is 
 not honest.' So he went on and prospered thus, 
 and he became very wealthy from the sale, at a 
 high price, of the skins he gained fraudulently. 
 For years his lodge was visited by the red men, and 
 each time he made them drunk, and then swore 
 that he had not cheated them, in the same words: 
 * You can whip poor Wilhelm if he is not honest.' 
 At last, one day when the red men were become 
 poorer and poorer and had no meal, no tobacco, 
 and Wilhelm had money and glittering stones and 
 lodges unnumbered, a red man came to him toward^ 
 the close of an afternoon when the storm was shak- 
 
A MASSACRE. 139 
 
 ing the tree-tops and birds were frightened and flew 
 screaming through the air, their feathers all broken 
 and ruined. It was dark and dismal around the 
 trader's lodge, and a pool of water beside it was 
 black and heaving with the wind that moaned and 
 shrieked. The trader came to the door of his lodge 
 when he saw the Indian approaching. 
 
 " ' It is an awful storm,' he said. 
 
 "'Is not the white man afraid of the spirit-voices 
 abroad?' asked the Indian. 'For perchance among 
 them there is the voice of a spirit which the white 
 man loved not, and which he treated unfairly when 
 it inhabited the body of flesh. Is the white trader 
 not afraid ?' 
 
 "'I am afraid of neither man, God, nor devil! 
 You may whip poor Wilhelm if he is,' said the 
 trader, laughing, and shaking his fist up to the sky. 
 
 " The wind blew louder and louder ; birds fell dead 
 at their feet. One little bird was whirled through 
 the air apparently dead, but it touched the Indian 
 on the eyes as it was descending, and then it ap- 
 peared to live, and immediately circled about his 
 head and flew to a tree above the pool of black, 
 agitated water. 
 
 " ' The little bird lives, but its voice is dead,' said 
 the Indian to the trader. ' The wrath of Manitou 
 has ruined its voice.' 
 
140 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 " ' Ha, ha !' laughed the trader ; * the wrath of 
 Manitou indeed ! Come, cliief, let me see the pel- 
 tries. Hold on, though !' 
 
 "He went into the lodge and brought forth a 
 bottle of fire-water. 
 
 " ' I want none/ said the red man. ' I can make 
 my bargain without that.' 
 
 " ' But I always treat/ said the trader. 
 
 " The red man, however, refused to touch it, and 
 began to untie the bundle which he had upon his 
 back. He spread before the gloating eyes of the 
 trader such a pile of skins, and of such magnificent 
 quality, as human eyes never before beheld. The 
 trader could not speak for a few minutes, so lost 
 was he in admiration. And the storm seemed to 
 increase in violence, the trees bent shrieking to the 
 ground, the lodge shook on its firm foundations, 
 the door opened and shut violently, the pool of 
 black water tumbled and tossed, the little voiceless 
 bird fluttered its wings and flew incessantly from its 
 tree to the Indian as though it wanted something 
 which he alone could give it. 
 
 " When the air was thick and black and the storm 
 very great, the trader suddenly roused himself from 
 his admiration of the skins. 
 
 " ' Drink,' he said, with trembling voice, holding 
 out the fire-water. ' I never bargain without drink. 
 It is dark, too, and the drink will keep off* fear.' 
 
A MASSACRE. 141 
 
 "'I bargain without drink/ said the red man. 
 
 " ' It is not good skins you bring,' said the trader. 
 
 " ' You lie !' said the red man, in a stern voice. 
 
 "The trader looked at him. 
 
 " ' It may be because it is dark and I cannot see 
 well/ he said. 'And oh, do drink a little rum!' 
 
 " ' If it is too dark, behold the light,' said the red 
 man, and struck upon a flint and lighted an over- 
 turned bush, which, strangely enough, burned 
 brightly, though it was damp. 
 
 " The flames leaped up, only to show the storm to 
 greater advantage. The little voiceless bird hovered 
 about the flame. The flame shot its rays through 
 the open door of the lodge and lighted on huge 
 piles of gold which the trader had been counting 
 when the Indian had come up, making the room 
 glitter like a fallen sun. The trader now closed the 
 door. 
 
 "The sight of his gold in the light from the 
 flaming bush seemed to have made him bolder. 
 
 " ' No,' he said ; ' the skins are very bad — the worst 
 I ever saw.* 
 
 " * You lie !' said the red man again. 
 
 "The trader leaned over the skins, exulting, and 
 thinking he must be bold indeed to bargain with 
 this chief. 
 
 "'I will give you a bottle of fire-water and a 
 
142 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 quart of beads for these/ he said. ^They are not 
 worth so much/ 
 
 " ' You lie !' again said the red man. 
 
 "The trader looked up: the red man's form had 
 expanded ; it rose above him ; it towered above the 
 highest trees; it seemed to reach the very sky and 
 take away the awful storm-clouds and break and 
 crush them. 
 
 " Even in his fear the trader defended himself. 
 
 " ' I do not lie,' he said. 
 
 "The red man's hand caught up the burning 
 bush, and it glittered and turned into a tomahawk 
 in his hand. The little voiceless bird hovered 
 around the tomahawk, pecking at it. 
 
 " ' I do not lie!' now shrieked the trader, his voice 
 rising above the storm that had burst in all its fury, 
 the rain pouring down, the clouds broken by the 
 red man's head, the heavens seeming to war with 
 the earth ; the lodge rocked upon its foundations, 
 the pool of black water hissed and hissed, blackness 
 all around, with wild cries of animals, and the hiss 
 of snakes that crawled in fear even into the lodge. 
 
 " ^ I do not lie !' shrieked the trader. ' You may 
 whip poor Will ' 
 
 " He got no further, his voice crying plaintively 
 the beginning of his common plea, for the toma- 
 hawk of the red man crashed through his skull, 
 
A MASSACRE, 143 
 
 and he fell back dead within the door of his lodge, 
 which rocked and shivered and snapped, and 
 pitched headlong into the black pool wdth all its 
 shining gold and precious stones, and the pool 
 roared as though it laughed, and opened to receive 
 it all, then closed over it and grew black and peace- 
 ful as the storm rolled away and the moon and the 
 stars came in the sky, where the red man had 
 ascended like a long gray trail of smoke. 
 
 "But all through the dripping wood, now here, 
 now there, w^as the plaintive cry of 'whip-poor- 
 will, whip-poor-will.' 
 
 " It was the voice of the little bird that had been 
 voiceless ; and the last words of the white trader who 
 had so long cheated the Indians were thereafter 
 always loud in the land at dark of night or early 
 morning, — a warning to the world of a soul that in 
 pain saw, when it was too late, the error of its way, 
 but even at the last could think of no words but 
 those of old falsehoods, and tried to cheat even 
 the Manitou with words that had ever cheated his 
 children. For the huge red man had been Manitou. 
 That is all the story. There ! — there is a whip-poor- 
 will. Hear it !" 
 
 " We have lingered too long," said the white man, 
 who, as the tale had proceeded, had gained com- 
 posure ; " and now come on." 
 
144 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The party then took up the line of march, the 
 Indians hemmed in by the militia. 
 
 But there was no doubting on the part of the 
 starving Indians as to the sincerity and good inten- 
 tions of the band of militiamen who had promised 
 them so much and listened patiently to a story of 
 their tribe, and they walked patiently along, after 
 delivering up to the whites their scanty arms and 
 ammunition, and thanked them over and over 
 again. 
 
 " Stop !" said the chief; " the white brethren are 
 hungry." 
 
 So the command was given to halt, and the 
 Indians began with all speed to prepare a savory 
 mess for the friendly white men from the little store 
 of corn they had collected, and packed some away 
 for the cold journey through the biting blast. 
 
 A party of white men and a few Indians were 
 immediately dispatched to Salem, a short distance 
 from Gnadenhuetten, the central town, where the 
 Indians had also come back to look for corn. These 
 were easily persuaded to come to Gnadenhuetten, 
 especially as the white men professed to be exceed- 
 ingly religious, and Moravians, admiring their spa- 
 cious and cleanly hut of worship as it once had 
 been, and discussing fluently on the goodness of the 
 missionaries, saying frequently : 
 
A MASSACBE. 145 
 
 "The good Indians are indeed good Christians, 
 and well beloved at the fort, where our white 
 brothers and sisters await them." 
 
 Some of them on leaving Salem set fire to the 
 few yet standing houses and the portion of the 
 church still remaining, which, on signs of disap- 
 proval from the Indians, they explained that no 
 harm or sacrilege was intended, only that they 
 must destroy any lurking-place liable to be made 
 use of by the enemy of the good Indians. 
 
 On their arrival at the bank of the river oppo- 
 site Gnadenhuetten they came across the body of 
 Shabosh. 
 
 " AVhat is this?" asked a stern-eyed Indian. " Do 
 my white brothers murder in Christ's name?" 
 
 But it w^as too late: they had given up their 
 arms, they w^ere in the power of men who now 
 began to be less religiously inclined, and, mention- 
 ing God less, proclaimed a knowledge of a low^r 
 power which proved a long familiarity with it. 
 
 The Indians were taken over to Gnadenhuetten, 
 where the white men threw off all pretensions to 
 friendliness. 
 
 The captive men w^ere divided from the women 
 
 and children, and shut up in two houses some 
 
 distance apart. These houses the whites called 
 
 slaughter-houses. 
 13 
 
146 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 The prisoners being thus, securely taken, a council 
 of war was immediately called to decide on their 
 fate. 
 
 The officers of the militia were unwilling to take 
 on their own shoulders the w^hole responsibility of 
 the decision, and agreed to refer the question^ to the 
 men in a body. 
 
 The men were accordingly drawn up in line, 
 and were full of merriment over the success of the 
 escapade. 
 
 The commander of the party. Colonel William- 
 son, who was supposed to be anxious to retrieve his 
 lost reputation, put in full parliamentary form the 
 question : 
 
 "Shall the Moravian Indians be taken prisoners 
 to Pittsburg, or be put to death here?" 
 
 There was a silence at first. 
 
 " All who are in favor of saving these lives will 
 now step out of the line and form a second rank," 
 commanded Colonel Williamson. On this, sixteen, 
 some assert eighteen, stepped out of the rank and 
 file. 
 
 " Down with them !" cried those in the rear, and 
 these "formed a line of majority beyond the eigh- 
 teen — for* death without mercy. The fate of the 
 Moravians was thus decided, and they were told to 
 prepare for death. 
 
A MASSACRE. 147 
 
 " We expected it," said they calmly. 
 
 For the prisoners, from the time they were placed 
 in the guard-house, foresaw death, and began to sing 
 some simple hymns they had learned, praying and 
 exhorting each other to place a strong reliance in 
 the saving mercy of the Christ they had been told of. 
 
 On being accused of having aided the hostile 
 Indians they declared their innocence; they were 
 then told that they had property of the whites in 
 their possession. 
 
 They said they could render a satisfactory ac- 
 count of every single article they called their own — 
 where, or from what trader they had purchased it. 
 
 But the number of horses, the Indian's sole 
 delight, and other creatures which they had once 
 possessed, were brought to bear against them by 
 their accusers, who concluded that "when they 
 killed the Indians the country would be theirs; 
 and the sooner this was done the better." 
 
 Accordingly they told the poor half-starved 
 creatures they must die. 
 
 Finding that all entreaties to save their lives were 
 to no purpose whatever, and that some, more blood- 
 thirsty than their companions, were anxious to 
 begin the slaughter, they united in begging a short 
 delay that they might prepare themselves for death, 
 which request, at length, was granted. They asked 
 
148 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 pardon for whatever offense they had given or grief 
 they had occasioned to each other; they knelt 
 down, offering fervent prayers to God their Saviour, 
 and, kissing one another, under a flood of tears, fully 
 resigned to his will, they sang praises unto Him, 
 in the joyful hope that they would soon be relieved 
 from all pains and join their Redeemer in everlast- 
 ing bliss. 
 
 They were not quick enough for their captors, 
 who, impatient, during the time granted for the 
 last devotions consulted as to the mode of death 
 for the praying band of people. 8ome suggested 
 the setting on fire of the two guard-houses they 
 were at present confined in, thus burning them 
 alive and saving the waste of time for burial. 
 
 But others said no, for they wanted to take home 
 the many scalps as a proper confirmation of their 
 triumph. Some, again, opposed both these plans, 
 which had many adherents, and declared that they 
 would never be guilty of murdering a people whose 
 innocence was so satisfactorily proven, and proposed 
 setting them at liberty, or, if that was not to be 
 thought of, at least to hold them as prisoners, and 
 deliver them up to the proper authorities. 
 
 But, as is usually the case with the m.ost human 
 of men in their treatment of those in their power, 
 they who entertained the last proposition were de- 
 
A MASSACRE. 149 
 
 clared weak by the majority, who advocated death 
 in one form or other, and despised the idea of hold- 
 ing these Indians as they would other foes, rejecting 
 any proposal which should suggest a line of treat- 
 ment opposed to the alleged deserts of a hated 
 people. Thereupon those who desired no personal 
 violence called upon the God of the red and the 
 white man alike to witness that they were innocent 
 of the blood of these harmless Christian Indians, 
 and withdrew to some distance from the scene of 
 slaughter, like so many Pilates, who had the will to 
 propose a humane action, but not the strength of 
 will that dared put the action into execution in the 
 face of popular protest. 
 
 The murderers, impatient to make a beginning, 
 came again to them while they were singing and 
 praying, and, inquiring if they were now ready to 
 die, they answered in the affirmative, adding that 
 they had commended their immortal souls to God, 
 who had given them the assurance in their hearts 
 that He would receive their souls. 
 
 One of the party, taking up a cooper's mallet, 
 saying : " How exactly this will do for the business," 
 began with Abraham, and continued knocking 
 down one after another until he had counted four- 
 teen that he had killed with his own hands. 
 
 He now handed the instrument to one of his 
 
150 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 fellow-murderers, saying: "My arm fails me. Go 
 on in the same way. I think I have done pretty 
 well I" 
 
 In the other house, where mostly women and 
 children were confined, Judith, a remarkably pious, 
 aged widow, was the first victim. Christina, who 
 had formerly lived with the sisters in Bethlehem, 
 and spoke English and German well, fell on her 
 knees and begged for life in vain. 
 
 But two of the Indians, both lads, escaped, each 
 about fifteen years of age. One, hiding himself in 
 the cellar of the house where the women and chil- 
 dren were murdered, beheld the blood run in 
 streams into the cellar, and, waiting until night, 
 escaped through the window. The other, receiving 
 but one blow, and not being scalped, recovered his 
 senses; but, seeing the murderers return and kill a 
 man named Abel (what fitting personal nomencla- 
 ture!), who was endeavoring to raise himself up, he 
 lay still until evening, when, the doors being open, 
 he escaped into the woods. 
 
 The many particulars noted down with scrupu- 
 lous fidelity are too horrible to reproduce at this 
 late date, even when all the actors in the affair have 
 been called to answer at a higher tribunal than 
 man's opinion. Suffice it to say that in those two 
 •houses, where songs and^ prayers had sounded so 
 
A MASSACRE, 151 
 
 earnestly in the praise of Christ, who died for all 
 mankind and suffered for red man and white man 
 alike, so that his people but take up the cross and 
 follow Him in meekness and well-doing, all was 
 silent when night came down, and the tired execu- 
 tioners slept from their labors or counted their scalps 
 and made sure of the welcome that awaited them 
 in the fort, while ninety-six dead bodies — forty-one 
 men, twenty-one women, and thirty-four children — 
 attested the weariness that seized their hands and 
 arms. 
 
 " Thus, Brainerd and Zeisberger, faithful mis- 
 sionaries, who devoted your whole lives to incessant 
 toil and suffering in your endeavor to make the 
 wilderness of paganism ' rejoice and blossom as the 
 rose,' in faith and piety to God — thus perished your 
 faithful followers, by the murderous hands of more 
 than savage white men ! Faithful pastors ! Your 
 spirits are again associated with those of your flock 
 — * where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
 weary are at rest.' " 
 
 The Indians waiting in the upper town, Shoen- 
 brunn, ten miles farther up the river, expecting the 
 aid promised their brethren in the other two towns, 
 were apprised of the danger, and escaped just in 
 time to keep their scalps intact. 
 
 For a large division of the militiaman arrived at 
 
 X 
 
152 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Shoenbrunn on the very day the Indians had left, 
 and were wild wdth rage at having been betrayed, as 
 they termed it. 
 
 They collected together Tvhat plunder there was 
 for them and with it returned to their companions. 
 
 After the work of wholesale slaughter was con- 
 summated, and no other Moravian Indians pre- 
 senting themselves, the buildings in the town of 
 Gnadenhuetten, including the two slaughter-houses, 
 w^ere fired, as those had been in Salem. 
 
 Thus the ninety-six dead bodies were consumed, 
 and what the fire failed to reduce to ashes the 
 wolves howling in the wilderness beyond promised 
 to look after. 
 
 The party of whites then moved forward, and 
 proceeded to Pittsburg, where, on the opposite banks 
 of the Ohio, they attacked the peaceable Delaware 
 chiefs and a number of friendly families, all under 
 the protection of the government, killed a number, 
 among them a promising young chief, and then 
 w^ent off. 
 
 Lewis Wetzel heard of this affair, and shuddered 
 as he, too, tracked the Indians who had wronged 
 him. 
 
 He declared that he would never have attacked 
 innocent people, and he was known never to have 
 been cruel to women and children; but possibly 
 
A MASSACRE. 153 
 
 had he been detailed with the marauding party 
 the sight of a red-skin would have blinded him and 
 deafened him to the calls of mercy, and only his 
 wrongs would have stood before him, calling out for 
 him to avenge them, and he might have deemed the 
 claim of religion on the part of the Indians but 
 another trick to catch the principles of the white 
 men, as he could remember how, long ago, a bear 
 lurked about his old home, and how wolves' cries 
 sounded about the door, when human beings imi- 
 tated beasts to carry out the plots of their own 
 nefarious treacheries. 
 
 He knew that in this party of men who brought 
 into the vicinity of Fort Pitt nearly a hundred gory 
 scalps there might be some bent on revenging a 
 long line of affronts offered, like his own, by the 
 Indians; but he also knew that men of the Simon 
 Girty stamp were foremost in it, and that torture 
 and bloodshed were the sole incentives, as they 
 wantonly loved the contortions of a snake which was 
 impaled to the ground and gradually died in agony. 
 
 He bad little time to think of a matter which 
 appealed to all thinking settlers at the time, but was 
 quickly dismissed because of more personal troubles ; 
 for he was preparing for his own first campaign, 
 which promised to inaugurate the infliction of his 
 penalties on the makers of his broken home. 
 
154 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Crawford's campaign. 
 
 A FTER this excusable digression, we come to the 
 period of Crawford's campaign, in which Lewis 
 Wetzel and probably one or more of his brothers 
 were engaged. 
 
 It was well known at the time that this stern 
 campaign was intended to represent almost a second 
 Moravian extermination, for a few false Indians 
 claiming to belong to the Christian settlements had 
 committed depredations which involved the whole 
 party in the general accusation. 
 
 The settlers had stood too much and too often 
 seen their rights set aside by both villainous whites 
 and Indians to bear with aught more without most 
 strenuous efforts to punish the malefactors. 
 
 Wetzel's peculiarly lonely condition, for he made 
 few friends while among the peaceably inclined 
 settlements, had attracted the attention of many 
 around him. His isolation from the few simple 
 gayeties, his keeping apart even from his relatives, 
 singled him out as a peculiar character. The story 
 
CRAWFOBB'S CAMPAIGN. 155 
 
 » 
 of his father's death and the stern determination of 
 
 the young man may have caused the gentle smiled 
 which greeted him, as women ever pity loneliness 
 and pain ; which kindliness, however, seldom re- 
 ceived a reward from him; for he noticed it not — he 
 did not understand it. 
 
 Among the maidens at Wheeling was one black- 
 eyed, little figure which came to be called " Wetzel's 
 shadow." She was the daughter of the neighbor 
 Rosencranz, who had been so well known in Penn- 
 sylvania before the Wetzels had come West. She 
 had been born and reared here, and, her father and 
 mother dying, the fact of the family of Lewis 
 having known her parents in their days of greater 
 domesticity may have attracted her to them. But 
 she was not attracted to the other members of the 
 family as she was to the young scout. It was she 
 who mended the torn garments of the young boy, 
 as she was so much with his mother; it was she 
 who listened to the stories of his youthful prowess, 
 and whose eyes gleamed when she heard the story 
 of his oath. 
 
 When he went away through the forest on the 
 scent, restless and ever provoked to activity, she it 
 was upon whom his eyes first lighted on his return 
 to Wheeling, she it was who offered to relieve him 
 of his gun, and whose blushes made him often 
 
156 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 blush himself, not understanding nor liking her 
 effusion. 
 
 She was always in his footsteps, shy but resolute. 
 He often found her in the natural bowers of vines 
 prone upon the ground crying her pretty eyes out, 
 and wanting comfort ; and yet he could not ask her 
 what ailed her, nor disturb her at such moments. 
 
 He would creep away when he found her thus, 
 going softly over the twigs and grass so as not to 
 make a noise and let her know he was in her 
 vicinity. He did not know why he avoided her, 
 only he saw soft pity in her eyes for him, and he 
 frowned at pity expressed on his behalf. "When 
 Crawford's campaign was broached and he signi- 
 fied his intention of joining it, the maiden Kosen- 
 cranz was wild. She knew of the horrors of the 
 late Williamson campaign, and to think that Lewis 
 Wetzel would voluntarily murder innocent people 
 was almost as bad as to think of him murdered 
 himself. After days of conflict with herself, and 
 when she could not go to the other women, who, 
 older than herself, could only give her practical 
 advice and tell her that Lewis Wetzel knew his own 
 business best and that his affairs belonged to no 
 woman, she resolved to go in person to him and 
 remonstrate with him. 
 
 It may have been that his preparations for the 
 
CRAWFORD S CAMPAIGN, 157 
 
 campaign had kept him husil}^ employed with the 
 other men, and he no longer frequented the haunts 
 where the women oftenest went, and that she missed 
 him sorely. 
 
 However that may be, she sought and found him. 
 
 At first she could not speak for crying, and only 
 stood before him broken with her tears. 
 
 " What ails you, Berta Rosencranz?" he asked.. 
 
 Then she found her tongue, and burst out with : 
 
 "Oh, this dreadful campaign — this dreadful 
 colonel !" 
 
 . " Colonel Craw^ford is a brave man," smiled Lewis. 
 "He was born in the same year with General 
 Washington, in the same Virginia too." 
 
 " That makes no difference," spitefully cried the 
 little maiden ; " and I wish he had been born in the 
 same year with Adam, so I do." 
 
 " Why, he would'nt be here now," said foolish 
 Lewis, lost in astonishment. 
 
 " I don't care," she said, growing angrier for some 
 reason or other. " The idea of such a man going 
 and killing! I wish I had him here — the traitor!" 
 
 " He is not a traitor, Berta Rosencranz, and his 
 record is good. Did he not, in '58, go with Forbes's 
 expedition, which captured Fort Duquesne? Did 
 not General Washington often visit him in Fayette? 
 Was he not a colonel of the Continentals? Whom 
 do you call a traitor?" . 14 
 
158 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "Well, I don't care, Lewis Wetzel; and 3^ou 
 needn't stand up for everybody I don't like." 
 
 "Why don't -you like everybody, then?" 
 
 " That's my own business. What right has he to 
 take everybody away from everybody, and " 
 
 " He does not. What do you mean?" 
 
 " Why does he lead people into temptation, then ? 
 I never was so angry as I am now, and it is all his 
 fault. He ought to be ashamed of himself, so he 
 ought." 
 
 " What makes you angry ?" 
 
 " How should I know? I wouldn't ask silly ques- 
 tions if I was you, Lewis Wetzel. Don't the Bible 
 tell us not to be silly? My goodness! The Bible I 
 How can you bear to mention the Bible !" 
 
 " I did not." 
 
 "Well, you ought to have done so, then. A man 
 who does not mention the Bible ought not to be 
 trusted. I know I wouldn't trust such a man." 
 
 " I did not ask you to trust me, Berta Resencranz." 
 
 " Oh, Lewis Wetzel, how can you bear to hurt my 
 feelings so?" cried the poor little thing, in tears 
 again. " You know very well that I trust you, and 
 you know I've always trusted you, and dear knows 
 I haven't many people to trust." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because ; that's why." 
 
CBAWFOBJyS CAMPAIGN, 159 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 "I'd never call myself an Indian scout if I 
 couldn't tell that ftiuch. If I was an Indian scout, 
 I'd know even'thing, and I'm sure I wouldn't be 
 all the time giving every blessed friend I had the 
 heart-ache ?" 
 
 " Do I give every blessed friend I have the heart- 
 ache?" 
 
 "Don't you?" 
 
 "Do I?" 
 
 "How should I know? I'm not every blessed 
 friend a man has. You ought to feel ashamed to 
 accuse me of anything of the sort — just as though I 
 was an army." 
 
 Lewis was standing first on one foot, then on 
 the other. 
 
 Berta was looking at him from the corner of her 
 eye, while her face was buried in her apron. 
 
 He did not make an attempt to break the silence 
 which had now fallen. 
 
 At last she said plaintively : 
 
 " Say, Lewis Wetzel, if anybody trusts us, we must 
 do all we can to deserve that trust, mustn't we, eh?" 
 
 " I suppose so," he answered. Clearly he was tired 
 of this nonsense. 
 
 "And if we don't deserve a trust we — we don't, 
 eh?" 
 
160 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " Then if I trust you you will be very glad to do 
 me a favor, eh? Upon your word of honor you will 
 be glad to do me a favor ?'' 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 " Then don't go with this campaign, Lewis. Just 
 you stay here and be happy : you don't know how 
 easy it is to be happy if you only try right hard. 
 And who knows but there may be people around 
 who would die to make you hap^Dy." 
 
 " It wouldn't make me happy for people to die — 
 unless they are Injuns." 
 
 "Then you know, Lewis, I can make real nice 
 molasses cakes — just as mother said they make them 
 in Pennsylvania ; and you know you liked them 
 there." 
 
 " Did I? I must have forgotten." 
 
 " Of course ; you were very young then, Lewis." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "You know you were; 3'ou ought to be ashamed 
 of yourself not to know that. So, as you will try to 
 deserve the trust people repose in 3'ou, and you love 
 the molasses cakes I know how to make, and just as 
 you liked them in Pennsylvania when quite young, 
 you will stay here and eat and be merry, and let old 
 Crawford and his old campaign go without you. 
 Oh, how nice of you, Lewis 1" 
 
CEAWFORiyS CAMAPION. 161 
 
 He broke from her then, seeing a certain meaning 
 in her fresh cheerfulness. 
 
 " I never said that I would stay," he said frown- 
 ing. " I will not stay. You have no right to take 
 up my words so. No ; my duty calls me away, and 
 I go. You, all the women, need the men for protec- 
 tion ; and I go to keep your enemies from you. No, 
 Berta Rosencranz, you cannot detain me any more 
 than any other woman, any more than all the 
 women in the world could detain me. Good-bye !" 
 
 And, turning on his heel, he left her sobbing, 
 with her pretty head up against a tree. 
 
 He w^ent immediately to Colonel Crawford and 
 his men. He knew that the work he volunteered to 
 do meant murder and plunder, and the destruction 
 of the Wyandot towns on the Sandusky. But his 
 vow had never been forgotten, and his chance was 
 come. 
 
 It was the universal resolution of every man 
 concerned in this expedition to spare the life of no 
 Indian who might fall in his way, whether friend 
 or foe, demoniacal as this may appear. 
 
 But it will be seen in the sequel that the result of 
 the whole campaign was entirely different from that 
 of the Moravian campaign in the preceding March. 
 And while at this long distance from the troublous, 
 exciting times of Lewis Wetzel's day we see only the 
 
162 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 horrible actions of the white men who acted the 
 savage, j^et the long continuance of the Indian war 
 had debased the larger number of the white popu- 
 lation to the almost savage state of nature. They 
 had lost so many relatives by the Indians, they had 
 been witnesses of such horrid murders and other 
 depredations by the red foes, that they were in con- 
 stant dread for their women and little ones ; their 
 flocks and crops were not assured to them, but were 
 liable to be stolen and ruined in one night, and 
 they insensibly became subject to that indiscrimi- 
 nate thirst for revenge which is such a prominent 
 feature in the savage character. 
 
 The men were all mounted on the best horses 
 they could get, the settlers furnishing steeds to those 
 who owned none. 
 
 Lewis Wetzel had saved one colt of his father's, 
 and this trained beast bore him. 
 
 On the 25th of May, 1782, not a cloud in the sky, 
 the day tender and full of the scent of green-grow- 
 ing plants, and peace and plenty making a pano- 
 ramic picture of wondrous beauty, four hundred 
 and eighty men mustered in the old Mingo towns 
 on the western side of the Ohio river. 
 
 They were all from the immediate neighborhood, 
 with the exception of one company from Ten Mile, 
 in Washington County, Pennsylvania. 
 
CRAWFORD S CAMPAIGN. 163 
 
 Colonel Crawford had accepted the command with 
 apparent reluctance; but, as an election had been 
 held and votes cast for Colonel Williamson or 
 himself to assume the office, and he being duly 
 elected, he dared scarcely to deny the popular voice, 
 and so he acceded to the will of the people. 
 
 The line of march was taken up, and the horses 
 tramped along through " Williamson's Trail," as it 
 was then called, until they arrived at the upper 
 Moravian town, in the fields of which there was 
 still corn on the stalks, upon w^hich the host of 
 horses was plentifully fed during the night of en- 
 campment there. 
 
 Shortly after the army had halted, three men, 
 who had walked some distance from the camp, dis- 
 covered a couple of Indians, and fired at one of 
 them, without wounding him, however. 
 
 As soon as the news of the discovery of Indians 
 reached the encampment, more than half of the 
 men rushed out, without any command, and in the 
 most tumultuous manner crashed through the stub- 
 ble to see what the report meant. 
 
 From this open breach of discipline Colonel 
 Crawford anticipated the defeat which followed. 
 "The}'' obey nothing but their own base instincts," 
 he said, " and these instincts, like all impulses, do 
 little for safety without a cool leader." 
 
164 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 The whole fact in a nutshell is that the Indians 
 were beforehand. They had seen the gathering on 
 the Mingo bottom, and knew their number and 
 destination. They saw from writing on the trees, 
 that no quarter w^as to be given to any Indian, 
 whether man, woman, or child. 
 
 Into June, however, the militia roved along, in- 
 stead of meeting with Indians and plunder, coming 
 across nothing but desolation. Where Indian vil- 
 lages had been, the place was covered with high 
 grass, and there were only the ruins of a few huts. 
 The Indians had tramped off to Scioto some time 
 before. 
 
 At last the officers, gathered in council, deter- 
 mined to march one day longer in the direction of 
 Upper Sandusky, and then, if nothing noteworthy 
 presented itself, they would begin a retreat forth- 
 with. 
 
 Through the plains of Sandusky they were to be 
 seen early the next morning, going along out of 
 humor, and expecting to come across nothing but 
 the usual dull sameness. But about 2 o'clock in 
 the afternoon i\ie advance guard was fired upon by 
 Indians, who, in large numbers, were concealed in 
 the high grass, and driven back. The Indians, after 
 this attack, made for a dense piece of woods almost 
 entirely surrounded by plains, and here they would 
 
CRAWFORD'S CAMPAIGN. 165 
 
 have had the vantage-ground. But the white men, 
 by a rapid movement, headed them off. 
 
 Then the battle began by a heavy fire on both 
 sides. A few Indians at the outset of the fight had 
 gained a portion of the woods, but these w^ere dis- 
 lodged with slaughter. They then attempted to 
 reach a small skirt of wood on the right flank of 
 the army, but were prevented from doing so by 
 Major Leet, who commanded the right wing of the 
 army at that time. 
 
 The firing was incessant and heavy all day, and 
 only when darkness fell was it discontinued. 
 
 Both the red and white armies slept on their arms 
 that night, and w^aited impatiently for the morning. 
 Large fires were kindled all along the line of battle 
 by both parties, and chief among the workers and 
 tenders of the fires of the whites was a dark, silent 
 young fellow, who did his work quietly and effectu- 
 ally, only now and then pausing to shade his eyes 
 with his hand and scan the opposite hills where the 
 red man waited, and whose encampment was plainly 
 visible in the glare of the fires. 
 
 " It is coming ! It is coming !" he would mutter 
 to himself, and then resume his work of piling on 
 the logs. 
 
 Fiercer and hotter roared the fires all night, and 
 the country was one big bonfire, by the flame of 
 
166 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 which the contending parties watched each other 
 and prepared for the promised encounter of the 
 following day. 
 
 There was a looking-after of muskets and a storing 
 of powder and balls on the part of the white men. 
 But not alone was these so-called civilized instru- 
 ments of death attended to, as though any weapons 
 designed to destroy life can be properly deemed 
 civilized ! But knives were sharpened, even toma- 
 hawks ground down, for hurling the tomahawk 
 found many adepts in this little party, and when 
 necessity compelled a cessation of powder-firing the 
 Indians' own weapon of defense and attack was as 
 efficacious in the hands of the foes of the Indians 
 as in the hands of the dusky denizens of the forest 
 themselves. 
 
 In the early morning the white party prepared 
 for the defensive. 
 
 But the Indians made no attack until late in the 
 evening, while all day long large parties of them 
 were seen traversing Hhe plains, like ants establish- 
 ing a city, and some of them carrying away the 
 dead and wounded of the day before. Their num- 
 bers now seemed uncountable and still increasing, 
 and the officers of the white army anxiously called 
 a council. 
 
 " We must retreat," said they with one voice. 
 
CBAWFORiyS CAMPAIGN. 167 
 
 " Why ?" asked a calm voice. 
 
 " Who spoke ?" demanded Colonel Crawford. 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 " We must retreat," again began an oflScer, and 
 again came the interruption : 
 
 ''Why?" 
 
 The men who had pressed in to the confines set 
 apart for the council of war now drew back, all save 
 one figure, a young dark-skinned man who had fed 
 the fires the night before. He bad been the speaker. 
 
 "How dared you interrupt?" was asked him, not 
 that any court-martial was possible in such an army 
 for breach of discipline. 
 
 "I meant no disrespect," was the reply; "only it 
 hardly becomes men who go out to fight with an 
 enemy to fall back because of a trifling superiority 
 of numbers." 
 
 "A trifling superiority of numbers !" repeated the 
 officer. " What do you say to that?" 
 
 He raised his hand, and all eyes were directed 
 towards the point he designated. They could see 
 from afar off the Indians pouring in from all direc- 
 tions until the opposite field of hills was one dense 
 mass of humanity, which w^as gradually put into 
 squares with considerable dexterity and military 
 skill. 
 
 There was no response from the dissatisfied men, 
 
168 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 and in silence they stood for some minutes regard- 
 ing the manoeuvres of the savages. 
 
 The council of officers was then convened again, 
 the men excluded, and a guard stationed to prevent 
 any intrusion from outsiders. 
 
 Colonel Williamson then proposed taking a hun- 
 dred and fifty men and marching to the Upper 
 Sandusky. The commander-in-chief interposed a 
 refusal. 
 
 " I have very little doubt," he said, " but that you 
 would reach the town, but you would find nothing 
 there but empty wigwams, and, having taken off so 
 many of our best men, you would leave the rest to 
 be destroyed by the host of Indians with which we 
 are now surrounded, and on your return you would 
 meet the fate which had been ours during your 
 absence. They care nothing for defending their 
 towns, for the simple reason that the towns are 
 worth nothing. Their squaws, children, and prop- 
 erty have been removed long since. Our lives and 
 baggage are what they want, and if they can get us 
 divided they will soon have them. We must stay 
 closely together, and do the best that existing cir- 
 cumstances will permit." 
 
 During the conflict of the day before the expe- 
 ditionary force lost three men and had several 
 wounded. Preparations for retreat were now made 
 
CBAWFOEUS CAMPAIGN. 169 
 
 by burying the dead and burning fires over their 
 graves to prevent discovery. Once, in the midst of 
 one of these fires, a man was seen surrounded by 
 flames, shaking liis clenched fist towards the foe. 
 
 "Who is that man?" questioned Colonel Craw- 
 ford. 
 
 "Can't say," returned the man addressed, "but 
 from this distance it looks like a young fellow 
 named Wetzel." 
 
 The retreat was to begin deep in the night. But 
 the Indians seemed to scent the intention of the 
 white men, and about sundown attacked the army 
 with savage force and fury in every direction ex- 
 cepting that towards Sandusky. There was confu- 
 sion, and momentarily consternation seized the 
 troops, and as a result firing on their part was very 
 desultory. 
 
 As hurriedly as the excitement incident to the 
 assault would permit the line of march for the re- 
 treat was formed. When this was accomplished, 
 the guides were instructed to take the course to 
 Sandusky, the only opening between the masses of 
 Indians. The army then took up the march for 
 about a mile, wheeled about, and by a circuitous 
 route gained the trail by which they had come. 
 
 They retreated the whole of the next day, pur- 
 sued by the Indians, wlio kept up a steady fire into 
 15 
 
170 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the rear-guard, which often had to be replaced, and 
 a wounded man or two brought to the fore. Then 
 the savage firing became less and less, and towards 
 evening ceased entirely, the pursuers halting and 
 making no pretense to follow any farther. 
 
 At night the fires of the white men were built. 
 For hours the men were on the alert, but nothing 
 occurred to occasion any alarm — not a red-skin was 
 within a radius of a mile of them. Towards mid- 
 night all fear of pursuit had vanished, and even 
 the sentinels lay down on their arms to sleep. Even 
 in this careless position they were not attacked. 
 
 Most unfortunatel}^ when the retreat had been 
 resolved upon, a difference of opinion prevailed as 
 to the best mode of eftecting it. 
 
 The greater number thought it best to keep in a 
 body, while a very small party deemed it safest to 
 break off into detachments and make their way 
 home in different directions. 
 
 Many attempted to do this, calculating that the 
 Indians in a body would follow the main army. In 
 this they were mistaken. 
 
 For the Indians paid little attention to the main 
 body of the army, and pursued the small parties 
 and wrought such effectual vengeance that very few 
 of them escaped. 
 
 The only successful small party was that com- 
 
CBAWFOBJyS CAMPAIGN. 171 
 
 manded by Colonel Williamson, composed of some 
 forty men, who, late in the night of the retreat, 
 broke through the Indian lines under a brisk fire 
 and with some loss, and overtook and rejoined the 
 main army the second day of the retreat. 
 
 For several days the Indians were spread over the 
 whole country in pursuit of the straggling parties. 
 They pursued them almost to the banks of the Ohio. 
 
 Colonel CraAvford in the retreat had placed him- 
 self at the head, and hoped that the darkness would 
 shield his command. 
 
 Dr. Knight, the companion of Crawford in his 
 captivity, thus relates what followed : 
 
 "We had not got a quarter of a mile from the 
 scene of action when I heard Colonel Crawford 
 calling for his son John, his son-in-law Major 
 Harrison, and Major Eise and William Crawford, 
 his nephews, upon which I came up and told him I 
 believed they were before us. 
 
 " He asked : ' Is that the doctor ?' 
 
 " I told him it was. 
 
 " He then replied that they were not in front, and 
 begged of me not to leave him; and I promised 
 him I would not. 
 
 " We then waited, and continued calling for these 
 men till the troops had passed us. 
 
 "The colonel told me his horse had almost given 
 
172 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 out, that he could not keep up with the troops, and 
 wished some of his best friends to remain with him ; 
 he then exclaimed against the militia for riding off 
 in such an irregular manner, and leaving some of 
 the .wounded behind, contrary to his orders. 
 
 " Presently there came two men riding after us, 
 one of them an old man, the other a lad. We 
 inquired if the}^ had seen any of the above persons, 
 and they answered they had not. 
 
 "About daybreak Colonel Crawford's and the 
 young man's horses gave out, and they left them. 
 
 "We pursued our journey eastward, and about 
 two o'clock fell in with Captain Biggs, who had 
 carried Lieutenant Ashley from the field of action 
 dangerously wounded. 
 
 " We then went on about the space of an hour, 
 when a heavy rain came up ; we concluded it was 
 best to encamp, as we were encumbered with the 
 wounded officer. 
 
 "We then barked four or five trees, made an 
 encampment and a fire, and remained all night. 
 
 " Next morning we again prosecuted our journey, 
 and, having gone about three miles, found a deer 
 which had been recently killed. The meat was 
 sliced from the bones, and bundled up in the skin, 
 with a tomahawk lying by it. 
 
 " We carried all with us, and, in advancing about 
 one mile farther, discovered the smoke of a fire. 
 
CBAWFo:^]ys campaign. 173 
 
 "We then gave the wounded officer into the 
 charge of the young man, and desired him to stay 
 behind, whilst the colonel, the captain^ and myself 
 walked up as cautiously as we could towards the 
 fire. 
 
 " When we came to it, we concluded, from several 
 circumstances, some of our people had encamped 
 there the preceding night. 
 
 " We then went about roasting the venison, and 
 when just about to march observed one of our men 
 coming upon our tracks. He seemed at first very 
 shy, but, having called to him, he came up and told 
 us he was the person who had killed the deer; but 
 upon hearing us come up he was afraid of Indians, 
 hid in a thicket, and made off. 
 
 " Upon this, we gave him some bread and roasted 
 venison, proceeded together upon our journey, and 
 about two o'clock came upon the paths by which 
 we had gone out. 
 
 " Captain Biggs and myself did not think it safe 
 to keep the road, but the colonel said the Indians 
 would not follow the troops farther than the plains, 
 which we were then considerably past. 
 
 "As the wounded officer rode Captain Biggs's 
 horse, I gave the colonel mine. The colonel and 
 myself went about one hundred yards in front, the 
 captain and the wounded officer in the centre, and 
 the young man behind. 
 
174 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "After we had traveled about one mile and a half, 
 several Indians started up within fifteen or twenty 
 steps of the colonel and me. As we at first discov- 
 ered only three, 1 immediately got behind a large 
 black oak, made ready my piece and raised it up to 
 take sight, when the colonel called to me twice not 
 to fire; upon that one of the Indians ran up and 
 took the colonel by the hand. The colonel then 
 told me to put down my gun, which I did. 
 
 "At that instant one of them came up to me 
 whom I had formerly seen very often, calling me 
 doctor, and took me by the hand. They were Dela- 
 ware Indians of the Wingenim tribe. Captain Biggs 
 fired among them, but did no execution. 
 
 '• They then told us to call those people and make 
 them come there, else they would go and kill them. 
 The colonel called, but the little party got off and 
 escaped for the time. 
 
 "The colonel and I were then taken to the Indian 
 camp, which was about half a mile from the place 
 where we were captured. On Sunday evening five 
 Delawares, who had posted themselves at some dis- 
 tance farther on the road, brought back to the camp 
 where we lay the scalps of Captain Biggs and Lieu- 
 tenant Ashley, together with an Indian scalp which 
 Captain Biggs had taken in the field of action. 
 They also brought in Biggs's horse and mine, and 
 told us the other men had got away from them. 
 
CRAWFOBD'S CAMPAIGN. 175 
 
 "Monday morning, the 10th of June, we were 
 prepared to march to Sandusky, about thirty-three 
 miles distant. 
 
 " They had eleven prisoners of us, and four scalps. 
 The Indians were seventeen in number. Colonel 
 Crawford was very desirous to see a certain Simon 
 Girty, who lived among the Indians, and was on 
 this account permitted to go to town the same 
 night, with two warriors to guard him, having 
 orders at the same time to pass by the place where 
 the colonel had turned out his horse, that they 
 might, if possible, find him. The rest of us were 
 taken as far as the old town, which was within 
 eight miles of the new. 
 
 "Tuesday morning, the 11th, Colonel Crawford 
 was brought out to us on purpose to be marched in 
 with the other prisoners. I asked the colonel if he 
 had seen Mr. Girty. He told me he had, and that 
 Girty had promised to do everything in his power 
 for him, but that the Indians were very much 
 enraged against the prisoners, particularly Captain 
 Pipe, one of the chiefs. He likewise told me that 
 Girty had informed him that his son-in-law, Colonel 
 Harrison, and his nephew, William Crawford, were 
 made prisoners by the Shawanese, but had been 
 pardoned. This Captain Pipe had come from the 
 towns about an hour before Colonel Crawford, and 
 
176 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 had painted all the prisoners' faces black. As he 
 was painting me he told me I should go to the 
 Shawanese towns and see my friends. When the 
 colonel arrived, he painted him black also, told him 
 he was glad to see him, and that he would have 
 him shaved when he came to see his friends at the 
 Wyandot town. When we marched, the colonel 
 and I were kept between Pipe and Wyngenim, the 
 two Delaware chiefs. The other nine prisoners 
 w^ere sent forward with a party of Indians. 
 
 " As we went along, we saw four of the prisoners 
 lying bj the path, tomahawked and scalped ; some 
 of them were at the distance of half a mile from 
 each other. When we arrived within half a mile 
 of the place where the colonel was executed, we 
 overtook the five prisoners that remained alive; 
 the Indians had caused them to sit down on the 
 ground, as they did; also the colonel and myself, 
 at some distance from them. I was then given in 
 charge to an Indian fellow, to be taken to the 
 Shawanese towns. In the place where we were now 
 made to sit down were a number of squaws and 
 boys, who fell upon the five prisoners and toma- 
 hawked them. There was a certain John McKinley 
 among the prisoners, formerly an officer- in the 
 Thirteenth Virginia regiment, whose head an old 
 squaw cut off", and the Indians kicked it about upon 
 
CEAWFORUS CAMPAIGN. 177 
 
 the ground. The young Indian fellows came often 
 where the colonel and I were, and dashed the scalps 
 in our faces. We were then conducted along 
 towards the place where the colonel was afterwards 
 executed. When we came within half a mile of 
 it, Simon Girty met us, with several Indians, on 
 horseback. He spoke to the colonel, but as I was 
 about one hundred and fifty yards behind I could 
 not hear what passed between them. Almost every 
 Indian we met struck us either with sticks or their 
 fists. Girty waited till I was brought up and then 
 asked. Was that the doctor? I answered him. Yes, 
 and went towards him and reached out my hand ; 
 but he bid me begone, and called me a cursed 
 rascal; upon which the fellow wdio had me in 
 charge pulled me along. When we came to the 
 fire, the colonel was stripped, ordered to sit down by 
 the fire, and then they beat him with sticks and 
 their fists. Presently after, I was treated in the 
 same manner. They then tied a rope to the foot of 
 a post about fifteen feet high, bound the colonel's 
 hands behind his back, and fastened the rope to a 
 ligature between his wrists. The rope was long 
 enough for him to sit down or to walk around the 
 post once or twice, anrd return the same way. The 
 colonel then called to Girty, and asked if they 
 intended to burn him ? Girty answered, Yes. Upon 
 
178 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 this, Captain Pipe made a speech to the Indians, 
 consisting of about thirty or forty men and sixty 
 or seventy squaws and boys. 
 
 " When the speech was finished, they all yelled a 
 hideous and hearty assent to what he had said. 
 The Indian men then took up their guns and shot 
 powder into the colonel's body from his feet as far 
 as his neck. I think not less than seventy loads 
 were discharged upon his naked body. They then 
 crowded about him and, to the best of my observa- 
 tion, cut off his ears. When the throng had dis- 
 persed a little, I saw the blood running from both 
 sides of his head. The fire was about six or seven 
 yards from the post to which the colonel was tied. 
 It was made of small hickory poles burnt quite 
 through in the middle, each end of the poles re- 
 maining about six feet in length. Three or four 
 Indians by turns would take up individually one 
 of these burning pieces of wood and apply it to his 
 naked body, already burned black with powder. 
 These tormentors presented themselves on every 
 side of him, so that whichever way he ran around 
 the pole he was met by the burning fagots. Some 
 of the squaws took broad boards upon which they 
 put a quantity of burning coals and hot embers 
 and threw them on him, so that in a short time he 
 had nothing but coals of fire and hot ashes to walk 
 
CRAWFOBiyS CAMPAIGN. 179 
 
 ■upon. In the midst of these extreme tortures he 
 called upon Simon Girty, and begged of him to 
 shoot him. Girty, by way of derision, answered 
 that he had no gun, turning about to an Indian 
 behind him and laughing heartily. Girty then 
 came up to me and told me to prepare for death. 
 He said, however, that I was not to die at that place, 
 but would be burnt at the Shawanese towns. Col- 
 onel Crawford at this period of his suffering be- 
 sought the Almighty to have mercy on his soul. 
 He spoke very low, and bore his torments with the 
 most manly fortitude. He continued in all the ex- 
 tremities of pain for an hour and three-quarters or 
 two hours longer, as near as I can judge, when at 
 last, being almost spent, he lay down on his face. 
 They then scalped him, and repeatedly threw the 
 scalp in my face, telling me that it was my great 
 captain's. An old squaw got a board and took a 
 parcel of coals and ashes and laid them on his back 
 and head after he had been scalped. He then 
 raised himself on his feet and began to walk around 
 the post. They then put a burning stick to him as 
 usual, but he seemed insensible to pain." 
 
 This is the doctor's narrative. 
 
 It may be added that Colonel Crawford's son-in- 
 law and nephew were executed about the same 
 time. John escaped. What became of the other 
 
180 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 members of his family camiot be satisfactorily 
 ascertained. 
 
 Dr. Knight was doomed to be burned at a 
 town fifty miles distant from Sandusky, and com- 
 mitted to the care of an Indian convoy. The second 
 morning after their setting out, the gnats being 
 very troublesome, Dr. Knight begged the Indian to 
 unloose his bonds that he might assist "him in 
 making the fire to scatter the pests. Inasmuch as 
 an Indian never fails to avail himself of help in the 
 mere comforts of life, the doctor was soon freed and 
 hard at work making up a fire with the Indian. 
 While the savage was on his knees blowing the fire, 
 the white man caught up a pole with which he 
 struck the kneeling man upon the head with all 
 his strength, hoping to knock him forward into the 
 already fierce fire. But the stick broke, and the 
 Indian, though sorely wounded, was not killed. He 
 immediately sprang up and seized his gun, which 
 the doctor grasped from him, but drew back the 
 cock so violently that he broke the spring, rendering 
 it useless as a firearm. Then the Indian ran off, 
 yelling hideously, and the doctor made his way 
 home, which took him twenty-one daj^s to do, sub- 
 sisting wholly on roots, and arriving at the station 
 in an almost dying condition. 
 
A PVESUIT AND AN ESCAPE, 181 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 
 
 npHUS ended this most disastrous campaign. It 
 was the last one that originated in this section 
 of the country during the revolutionary contest of 
 the Americans against Great Britain. It was under- 
 taken with the very worst of views, — murder and 
 plunder. It was conducted without proper means 
 to encounter an enemy such as resisted the settlers. 
 There was no subordination and discipline among 
 the troops, and it ended in total discomfiture. 
 Never on any occasion had the ferocious savages 
 such ample revenge for the murder of their pacific 
 friends. 
 
 Is the question asked : Why, with so small a force 
 and such inadequate means, did the whites propose 
 the campaign ? The only answer is that most every 
 one believed that the Moravian Indians having 
 given offense to their belligerent warriors by their 
 code of peace, there would be no friends to take up 
 arms in their behalf. 
 
 On the scattered retreat of the troops which 
 
 16 
 
182 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 followed Colonel Crawford's defeat a man named 
 Mills, who had engaged in the unfortunate expedi- 
 tion, reached the Indian Spring, about nine miles 
 from Wheeling, almost in sight of the settlements. 
 
 His horse being thoroughly fagged out, he left 
 the beast here at the spring, and went on to Wheel- 
 ing on foot. 
 
 Thence he went to Van Metre's fort. After a 
 couple of days' rest here, he determined to go back 
 after his horse, and started out. 
 
 He had not gone far on his way when a man 
 started up from the long grass, a white man, but so 
 jaded and worn and wild as to appear anything but 
 a peaceably inclined settler. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked Mills, his hand on his 
 gun-lock. 
 
 "A friend," answered the stranger, throwing up 
 his hand to stay the action of the gun in Mills's 
 hand. 
 
 " Do friends start up suddenly out of ambush ?" 
 
 " Not usually. But who are you ?" 
 
 "A friend." 
 
 " Do friends act so readily with their arms?" 
 
 " I thought you an Indian." 
 
 " As I thought you ; in which latter case I meant 
 death. . And where do you go, friend ?" 
 
 " For my horse at the Indian Spring, where I left 
 him three or four days since." 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE, 183 
 
 " There is danger there, friend." 
 
 " I am used to danger. I was with Crawford." 
 
 "Yes. But the danger is different here; you 
 travel alone through a hostile country. Let your 
 beast go ; you only expose yourself to unnecessary 
 danger. I have a horse — I seldom use him ; take 
 him in welcome and spare your chance of life." 
 
 " How cowardly you advise me," laughed Mills. 
 "You are one of those who stay at home and prate 
 of danger to us who go to protect you." 
 
 " Home ! I have no home." 
 
 "Do you live as Girty lives?" 
 
 " I have seen Girty, and I would like to be with 
 the Indians as he is." 
 
 " You villain ! do you dare say this to me ? Do 
 you dare avow a friendship with the Indians?" 
 
 " I have done no such thing. I have said I 
 should like to be with the Indians as closely related 
 as Girty is. So I would, but it would be because I 
 might have the better chance to kill them." 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 " I was with Crawford too ; I did my share in tho 
 work ; would that it had been twenty-fold more !" 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 " Lewis Wetzel." 
 
 Mills looked at the harsh, weather-beaten stranger. 
 
 " Forgive me, I did not know you," ho said, some- 
 thing in the other's face riveting his attention. 
 
184 LEWIS. WETZEL. 
 
 • 
 It was this something in Lewis Wetzel's face that 
 
 attracted the rude settlers to him, but what it was 
 
 they could not have told had they even had a 
 
 thought of its meaning. 
 
 In these latter times, or in less wild places than 
 he was, the habitual expression on the scout's face 
 might have been denominated repression ; repres- 
 sion of all the springs of life, a hushing of every 
 instinct but the predominant one. The people were 
 only attracted by the expression, and respected it 
 without knowing it. So it was with Mills, who 
 begged forgiveness and knew not why. 
 
 Together the two men now proceeded to the 
 Indian Spring, for Wetzel would not allow Mills to 
 go alone. 
 
 On the way one night they found an Indian, 
 apparently astray from his tribe, sleeping beside a 
 little fire, and farther from the fire rested a young 
 dusky maiden. 
 
 The chief awoke on the approach of the two 
 white men. 
 
 Wetzel's gun sighted him, when the girl arose 
 from the ground with a shriek and threw herself 
 upon the breast of her lover — for so he explained 
 himself to be, and how he had run away from their 
 tribe because of opposition to their marriage. 
 
 When Wetzel saw her devotion, he lowered his 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 185 
 
 gun, a tremor seizing bis arm. " Go!" he said ; " the 
 woman has made me break my vow. Go ! before I 
 repent." 
 
 "Eepent of what?" asked the Indian boldly, 
 throwing the maiden from him. 
 
 " Of not killing you when I had the chance," 
 answered Wetzel. 
 
 "It is the white man's big talk," sneered the 
 Indian. 
 
 " Go !" commanded Wetzel, paying little attention 
 to this insolence. 
 
 "It is the red man's land," said the Indian, "and 
 the white man is the interloper. The white man 
 fears the red man, say what he will." 
 
 Wetzel turned to the girl. " Get him away," he 
 said. 
 
 She ran to her lover, entreating him. He 
 answered her coldly, but pretended to put up his 
 gun, which he had taken firmly in his hand. 
 
 Wetzel turned his back on the pair, and just then 
 a bullet whistled close to his ear, the ungenerous 
 Indian having fired his gun at the white man who 
 spared his life. AVetzel turned like a wild beast. 
 
 " So much for my broken oath," he said, and shot 
 the Indian down, and left the spot, with the girl 
 wailing over the prostrate body of her lover. 
 
 The two men now went on to the spring, and 
 
186 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 here they found Mills's horse, but it was tied to a 
 tree. 
 
 "VVetzel cried out : " Treachery ! Beware !" 
 
 But Mills walked up to the tree to unfasten the 
 animal, when instantly a discharge of guns followed, 
 and he fell lifeless, pierced by a dozen bullets. 
 
 Wetzel, knowing that his only chance of escape 
 was in instant flight, braced himself and with a 
 plunge rushed through the line of astonished 
 Indians who had now appeared on the scene and 
 bounded off at the top of his speed. 
 
 He was followed by four fleet Indians, in rapid 
 pursuit, and a hail of bullets. On, on he sped. His 
 Indian pursuers yelped and whooped in proud ex- 
 ultation of soon having their victim. 
 
 For half a mile the chase was kept up, and then 
 one of the savages had gotten so close that Wetzel 
 was afraid he might fling his tomahawk with the 
 usual unerring aim ; but, instantly wheeling, he 
 shot the red man dead in his tracks. 
 
 In his early youth Wetzel had acquired the habit 
 of reloading his gun while at full run, and now this 
 practice was his good friend. Keeping in advance 
 of his pursuers for another half mile or so, a second 
 Indian came close, and Wetzel turning to fire, the 
 savage caught the end of his gun. The Indian 
 tugged and wrenched, and met a strength that 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 187 
 
 competed with his own. The other Indians w^ere 
 now in sight, coming recklessly on. By a powerful 
 movement, the Indian, possessed of vast strength, 
 brought Wetzel to his knee. 
 
 " AVhite man die ! White man burn !" said the 
 savage. " Come, hurry up, chiefs, and see Wetzel 
 die!" 
 
 Perhaps the astonishment of Wetzel at hearing his 
 name in the mouth of his enemy gave him a new 
 impulse, for by a last effort he freed his gun from 
 the hands of the Indian, and, quickly thrusting the 
 barrel to the side of the red neck, pulled the trigger, 
 killing him instantly. 
 
 This seemed to astonish the other two Indians, 
 for they had seen him discharge his gun with fell 
 purpose before, and knew that he had not been 
 allow^ed sufficient time since then to pause and re- 
 load his weapon. 
 
 " The long-knife is a devil !" shouted one of the 
 braves, holding back. 
 
 " Kill the long-knife devil !" cried the other one ; 
 " the Manitou demands it." 
 
 But for an instant both of them seemed bewil- 
 dered. 
 
 This trifling halt of astonishment gave Wetzel an 
 advantage, and separated him by about two hundred 
 steps from the Indians, and before they recovered 
 
188 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 their equanimity he was fleeing like an antelope 
 over the plains, his trusty gun hugged closely to his 
 breast by one hand, exhilaration over what he had 
 done lending him a speed he had never possessed 
 before, although in his time of youthful discipline, 
 when he awaited a man's strength, he had practiced 
 running, as well as other modes of Indian warfare. 
 
 As he sped along, he could hear far behind him 
 the light thumps on the ground as the two Indians 
 joined in pursuit of him, maddened into a like 
 exhilaration with his own as they thought of his 
 escape, — the man of whom their spies reported won- 
 ders, and whose oath was not unknown in more 
 than one tribe. 
 
 On, and on they went; far away the Indian 
 horses looked on for a minute at the flying men, 
 and, tossing their manes, plunged aside-; droves of 
 turkeys spread their wings and moved — a black 
 cloud — over the blue, cawing their note of trouble 
 as they went. 
 
 On, and on, came the men, the white man first, 
 the savages, like beasts of prey, resolved on blood. 
 But the white man did not go as fast as at first: 
 he was visibly slackening his pace. Was he giving 
 out? 
 
 Leaping with immense strides, he yet mjtnaged to 
 keep some distance ahead.. Was his apparent weak- 
 ness but a sham ? 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 189 
 
 On, and on they went. Now the Indians were 
 gaining on the white man. They could afford to 
 send out a wild note of triumph towards the scout. 
 Nearer and nearer they came to him. Slower and 
 slower he went. 
 
 " If you halt now, we will not kill you," one of 
 the braves called after the scout. Still he went on^ 
 
 " If you let us take you alive, we will grant yoa 
 many days' life," a brave now called out. 
 
 To take such a man prisoner and lead him in(.D 
 camp and there torture him and try his wonderful 
 endurance would be a sight worthy the calling of 
 all the scattered tribe together, a sight for the edifi- 
 cation of old and young alike. They would far 
 rather have him alive than dead. See how feebly 
 he went ! One brave urged on the other to ran and 
 grasp the white man. 
 
 Wetzel heard him say : " Do not throw yo'ar 
 tomahawk unless he is too weak to stand muoh 
 torture. Be sure and keep him without a wound 
 till he is taken into camp." 
 
 "I shall be without a w^ound when I am taken 
 into their camp, indeed," muttered Wetzel as he 
 went along, his tottering gait surely deceiving his 
 pursuers into the belief that he was making little 
 progress and narrowmg materially the distance 
 between them. 
 
190 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " He holds up," said a brave, " and if his gun falls 
 from his hand then he is weak enough to kill." 
 
 But such an accident did not occur: his gun 
 remained in his hands, and although he used his 
 arms strangely the gun did not fall to the ground. 
 And indeed he was using his arms very strangely 
 as he went. He was reloading his gun 1 
 
 There were woods now close to him, and to this 
 the white man directed his steps. Behind him he 
 heard the whizzing of the feathers in the pursuing 
 Indians' garments. Panting, his mouth open, his 
 eyes starting from his head, almost spent, he yet 
 spurred on, managing to near the woods as the 
 foremost Indian sent aloof a long, loud shout of 
 victory. 
 
 The woods were reached and entered, and just at 
 that moment a tomahawk sped b}^ the flying white 
 man and buried itself up to the neck in a tree 
 in front of him, immediately above his head, liis 
 bending his head to send home the bullet into his 
 gun-barrel alone saving his Hfe. 
 
 He was spent; his strength was gone. His teeth 
 close shut together, his nostrils dilated, he yet 
 feigned a greater weakness than was really his, and 
 even stopped entirely once or twice in order to let 
 his pursuers gain on him, and then he looked 
 around him. As he looked around, the Indians 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 191 
 
 disappeared. Then lie would go on a little way, 
 again to look around, only to find himself alone, 
 the Indians having again disappeared. 
 
 This was repeated for perhaps half a dozen times, 
 the Indians slipping behind trees every time he 
 faced them, and regarding him from those fastnesses 
 in awe as much as hate. 
 
 Nothing coming of these manoeuvres, ¥/etzel took 
 to the run again for a mile or two farther, hoping 
 that his run would not be alone. 
 
 In this he was not disappointed, fjr in a little 
 while he thought he heard the thud of feet on the 
 ground back of him. 
 
 "I will not give them up," he muttered, and 
 listened intently. 
 
 Yes, he was not mistaken: the Indians were 
 pursuing him silently through the wood. At last 
 the trees were not so close together, the path not 
 quite so circuitous. The light became clearer, the 
 ground less slippery. And there were sounds back 
 of him : he was pursued by two pairs of moccasinned 
 feet. 
 
 Then there before him was an open sunlit place, 
 a space barren of herbage, with not a spear of the 
 long grass so often a snare to the flying foot, — one 
 of the open bare places that suddenly start before 
 the eye of the trapper of the prairie, unaccountably 
 
192 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 denuded of life ; one of the haunted spots of the 
 Indian superstition that deals in natural phenomena 
 and calls it supernatural magic. But, while in 
 peace they avoided such places, war left them no 
 preference. 
 
 Wetzel knew this ; so towards this open space he 
 ran. He reached it, and ran a little way. Then he 
 slackened and turned, for no steps pursued him. 
 
 • He wheeled around, but the foremost Indian was 
 behind a tree in a wooded enclosure, peering out 
 after the strange man. 
 
 The tree did not screen his body, however; so 
 Wetzel fired and dangerously wounded him. 
 
 With a screech of terror the remaining Indian, 
 who had also betaken himself to a sheltering tree, 
 threw up his arms and took to his legs,, yelli-ng, as 
 he went along the forest: "No catch dat man; him 
 gun always loaded," and disappeared from sight. 
 
 With disappointed eyes Wetzel gazed after him, 
 but was forced to be content with what damage he 
 had already done. 
 
 " But there are only three ; there should have 
 been four," he said ruefully. 
 
 He turned away, and found that he staggered as 
 he walked. It could not be all weakness that caused 
 hira to falter so. He had often run as far and as 
 swiftly as this. Surely he was not wounded ? No, 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 193 
 
 the day's adventures had been too much joy — he 
 \^'as intoxicated as though by liquor. Wetzel always 
 dwelt upon this adventure with peculiar vim, assert- 
 ing that it was the first time he really knew joy. 
 
 But he made his way on, and in time came to 
 Van Metre's, the scalps in his belt. 
 
 As he went into the clearing of the fort, a light 
 step echoed his. Was it the Indian come back? A 
 woman's hand was laid on his arm. 
 
 " You are a brave man, Lewis Wetzel," said the 
 voice of Berta Rosencranz, and she pointed to the 
 dangling scalps. 
 
 " Is it only you ?" he said. 
 
 " Only me !" she echoed. " I hope I am some- 
 thing. But you are a brave man, though, Lewis 
 Wetzel. I almost believe the story your mother 
 tells about 3'our being wrapped in a flag that Grizzle 
 Heister brought to you when you were no age at all. 
 Surely that flag must have entered your soul." 
 
 " Not that flag," he said, lighting up. 
 
 " Why not ? I don't like all this nonsense about 
 United States of America. This union of the colo- 
 nies cannot possibly last. That flag " 
 
 " That flag was wet with my mother's tears," he 
 said. 
 
 " Your mother's tears ! Dear knows you've caused 
 
 your mother more tears than were ever shed on that 
 17 
 
194 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 pretty flag. Do you know you're breaking your 
 mother's heart? — that it is broken already? She 
 would so like you to stay home and — marry, I 
 guess; most people marry, don't they? But what a 
 very bold girl Grizzle Heister must have been^^ 
 mustn't she ? Don't you hate bold girls ? I do. I 
 w^ouldn't be a bold girl for anything. A bold girl 
 would be sure to tell you that she liked you, 
 wouldn't she ? But I wouldn't tell you I liked you, 
 although I do like you ; now^ would I ? I'd rather 
 die first, wouldn't I ? That's because I'm not a bold 
 girl. Bold girls never die, do they? How you 
 must hate that awful Heister girl, mustn't you? 
 I guess she never had much of a bringing-up, had 
 she ? The idea of giving a little boy a flag ! Isn't 
 it dreadful? Indeed, I quite feel for poor Grizzle 
 Heister because she was a bold girl. Now I like 
 pretty, modest girls, not all the time throwing them- 
 selves at a man's head, don't you ? But then Grizzle 
 Heister was a miserably old girl, wasn't she ? I hate 
 did girls, don't you ? Oh, Lewis Wetzel, whatever do 
 you think ! — Charley Madison wants to marry me ! 
 He's a nice fellow ; you know very well he is. And 
 such a kind fellow to women. What would you do 
 if you were me? — would you say yes or no? I 
 wish you would advise me, will you?" 
 
 " Yes, marry him," said Wetzel, taking her hand 
 from his arm where it yet rested. 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 195 
 
 But she burst into a passion of tears. 
 
 " Oh, how can you, how can you !" she sobbed. 
 
 " What have I done ?" he asked. 
 
 " Everything," she retorted, with the peevishness 
 of a woman who is asked what causes her tears. 
 
 " I have done nothing that I know of. You 
 caught me as I came in." 
 
 " I didn't catch you." 
 
 " And you asked my advice about your marrying 
 a man." 
 
 " Oh, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for 
 calling him a man! He's not a man, thank you, 
 Lewis Wetzel. He's as good as you are. A mere 
 man, indeed ! I've a good mind to tell him what 
 you said about him." And Berta flounced away, 
 Wetzel gazing after her. 
 
 He could not understand it at all, and wondered 
 why Berta always seemed to like to ask him queer 
 questions which almost any one else could answer 
 apparently far more to her satisfaction than he 
 could. 
 
 The next time he met her it was he who made 
 the advance. 
 
 " Berta," he said, " I am sorry we do not under- 
 stand each other." 
 
 "We do," she said unctuously, and brightening 
 unaccountably. 
 
196 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Then I am very glad," he rejoined, turning 
 aside, happy that he had not offended her. But her 
 voice arrested him : 
 
 " Don't go," she said, " for I am mistaken. No, 
 we do not understand each other at all." 
 
 " I thought not, and I am very sorry." 
 
 " If you're very sorry that you don't understand 
 a person, then you'd better understand a person," 
 said Berta logically. 
 
 "Then how shall I go about it?" he asked. 
 
 " Why understand 'em," she returned. 
 
 He looked at her for explanation. She was very 
 pretty, and her eyes sparkled and her mouth smiled. 
 He wondered that nobody had asked Berta to go 
 and be married. 
 
 "Thank you, Berta," he said, "that's very nice 
 advice. Now do you know wdiat I think when I 
 look at you ?" 
 
 " No. Tell me what you think when you look at 
 me, Lewis Wetzel. Do I look nice when you look 
 at me?" 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " Well, what do you think when you look at me?" 
 
 "That " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " That you look nice." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
A PURSUIT AND AN ESCAPE. 197 
 
 "Really. And I think something else, Berta, 
 even though 1 don't understand you." 
 
 " Something else nice ?" 
 
 " Yes, Berta, even though I don't understand you, 
 I " 
 
 "But you do understand me, and it is very mean 
 not to understand people. No, no, you don't under- 
 stand me, either ; but you ought to." 
 
 *^I suppose so. But sometimes we don't do all 
 that we ought to do in the world, little Berta." 
 
 " Don't we ? Well, we ought to. Why don't we ?" 
 
 '• Because we cannot. And so it is no fault of 
 yours or mine, either, that I cannot quite understand 
 you. But whenever I look at you and think " 
 
 "And think I look nice?" 
 
 " Yes. Whenever I look at you and think " 
 
 " You said that before. Why don't you say some- 
 thing else. You can't think all the time that you 
 think I look nice." 
 
 " Yes, I can." 
 
 " How silly ! What do you do it for?" 
 
 " I can't help it." 
 
 " Oh, Lewis Wetzel," cried Berta, " you ought to 
 be ashamed of yourself, indeed you ought to." She 
 went and put her hand on his arm. "And now tell 
 me what else you think when you look at me and 
 think I look real nice. May I guess ?" 
 
198 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Is it about me?" 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Is it about you too?" 
 
 "I don't understand," he said, a puzzled expres- 
 sion in his face. 
 
 Berta lost all patience then. 
 
 " For goodness' sake," she pouted, " why are you 
 so stupid ?" 
 
 " I can't help it." 
 
 " You don't try to. Here I am, ready to help you 
 to try, and you won't let me. If I was a man, I'd 
 understand everything.'^ 
 
 "There are some things that even a man is better 
 without understanding." 
 
 " You mean me, Lewis Wetzel." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," he said, more 
 puzzled than ever. 
 
 "Well, never mind," she cried, "only tell me 
 what you think when you think " 
 
 " I always wonder why some real nice fellow don't 
 come along and marry you, Berta." 
 
 She looked at him for a second and seemed 
 thunderstruck ; then, bursting into tears, she struck 
 at him, ran past him with her apron to her eyes, 
 and left him standing there, lost in amazement. 
 
 " I do not understand Berta," he said abstractedly. 
 
AN INDIAN WA YLAID. [ 199 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 
 
 A GAIX, shortly after this Indian escapade and 
 his subsequent meeting with the pretty Berta, 
 Lewis Wetzel disappeared from the midst of those 
 who knew him, and was only heard of now and 
 then as having been seen in the forest by some 
 hardy hunter, going on his human quest and grant- 
 ing little talk to the chance friends he encountered. 
 
 " The Injuns are not thick enough here for him," 
 was the opinion of the men at Wheeling. 
 
 " Berta Rosencranz wants to be too thick with 
 him," was the opinion of the women. 
 
 " He is too thick-headed," was Berta's own opin- 
 ion, and she turned up her little nose at the thought 
 of his stupidity. 
 
 For Berta could pick and choose, and more than 
 one delightful man had suddenly betaken himself 
 to a season of solitary wandering after having 
 pressed his suit and been ignominiously rejected by 
 Berta Rosencranz. 
 
 Yet the opinions of all these people as to the 
 
200 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 cause of Wetzel's periodical disappearances were 
 scarcely correct. His was a restless, chafing nature ; 
 there was a constant want for something without a 
 name, and unattainable, that urged him on from 
 time to time to go away from humanity and try to 
 seek whatever it was he desired so acutely in the 
 dusky forests, in communion with the most secret 
 harbors of nature. At a later age, and with modifi- 
 cations, this restless, wistful nature would have been 
 determined as that of a poet or -a scientist — the one 
 as much as the other so far removed from the 
 dissecting ken of practical life. 
 
 Any one w^alking on a busy city street, if he has 
 any power of sight apart from mere physical vision, 
 will assuredly be struck by a dozen faces in an hour 
 — faces that are but a mask of something behind 
 and beyond them — faces which he is assured tell 
 little of what the wearers of them are, saving one 
 solitary phase of the entire life. 
 
 If such an observer be a rhymer, he will go home 
 and make some melancholy verses, without quite 
 knowing what inspires them. If he is a practical 
 man, he will have the "blues" for a little while, 
 without knowing why. Lewis Wetzel's face upon a 
 busy street might have caused verses and been 
 responsible for the " blues." 
 
 Wetzel's face spoke of a hush, and little else, to a 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. . 201 
 
 casual observer. Men coming out of prison cells 
 after a lengthened incarceration have much of the 
 look in their faces — the old passions and thoughts 
 have not died out, but one concentrated idea has left 
 its stamp on the countenance which it will take, 
 perhaps, years of mingling with the world and the 
 w^orld's people wholly to eradicate. 
 
 The prison cell is as much a world as the wild 
 nature around the scout. 
 
 " Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 Nor iron bars a cage," 
 
 was sung long ago with full understanding of this 
 principle. 
 
 Yet it was not all communing with nature out 
 there in the dimness of ages-old trees. There 
 were scenes there which were discordant with the 
 beauty of the place, and cries of pain that startled 
 many a singing bird and hushed its hymn of 
 thanks or turned it into chirps of terror. Indians 
 w^ere in those forests, and Lewis Wetzel was never so 
 much at ease and free from his irksome restlessness 
 as when he was on the trail of a red-skin. 
 
 The vengeance he wreaked in these places was 
 quietly done, and little or no record has come down 
 to us of the two years of hermit-dwelling in the 
 woods until circumstances brought him to the front 
 
202 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 again. His absence in a little while failed to elicit 
 comment: he was admired for his bravery — but who 
 missed him ? 
 
 His mother had her friends, and had pleasure in 
 women's gossip, and no longer wished to regain her 
 high estate of a brave woman. His sisters had 
 their friends, and were blooming out of girlhood, 
 with young women's dreams and hopes. His 
 brothers had as much as they could do in looking 
 after themselves, as brothers even now often have 
 when any trouble is anticipated if they try to find 
 out too much about their relatives. He had never 
 had many bosom friends, had never courted friend- 
 ship. So he was missed very little. 
 
 At length, in the autumn of 1785, he once more 
 appeared in the haunts of the settlers, a strange, 
 taciturn man, loaded down with Indian scalps. He 
 had spoken to few men in the years of his absence, 
 and his tongue seemed, too accustomed to silence to 
 be loosed now. 
 
 He went quietly around the places he had 
 formerly known, looking kindly on all whom he 
 chanced to meet. Again the children and dogs 
 were his friends. Often he was seen surrounded by 
 little ones, who took the most familiar liberties 
 with him. 
 
 A pretty woman once saw him in the woods 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 20^ 
 
 covered entirely with flowers, while a party of little 
 children danced around him in wild delight, drag- 
 ging his gun and powder-horn after them. 
 
 " Such a man !" said the pretty woman, hurrying 
 away, and not disturbing the sport. 
 
 " Who is there ?" asked Wetzel, raising himsejf on 
 one arm, for he had heard the movement of the 
 w^oman going through the leaves. 
 
 The children paused for a minute and looked up. 
 
 " Oh, it's only Berta," said they, and Wetzel sank 
 back upon the flowers again. 
 
 Again this same pretty woman saw him beating a 
 man for ill-treating a dog and tossing its little blind 
 pups into the water. She waited until she saw how 
 the battle went and that Wetzel severely punished 
 the other man. 
 
 " Such a man !" she said as before. But she 
 gathered her skirts close and dodged behind trees 
 so that he might not see her; and when the beaten 
 man presented himself among the people she was 
 the hardest calumniator of the men who ill-treated 
 dumb animals, and told him to his face that his 
 treatment had not been half severe enough. 
 
 But Wetzel had not returned to his old haunts 
 for ease and rest. The occasion of his coming now 
 was !Major Doughty's expedition down the Ohio 
 to the mouth of the Muskingum, to build Fort 
 Harmar. 
 
204 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The completion of this work appears to have 
 been entrusted to General Harmar himself, who 
 had been appointed commander-in-chief of the 
 forces on the northwestern frontier for the year 
 1785. Shortly after assuming the command and 
 proceeding to the fort, he employed a number of 
 white men to go with a flag to the nearest Indian 
 tribes to prevail on the warriors to come to the fort 
 and there conclude a treaty of peace. 
 
 As General Harmar was known to be an honor- 
 able man, the invitation was not disregarded, and a 
 large force of Indians encamped on the Muskingum 
 Eiver a few miles above its mouth. 
 
 General Harmar then issued his proclamation, 
 giving notice that a cessation of hostilities and a 
 laying down of arms was mutually agreed upon 
 between the red men and the whites until a strong 
 effort for a treaty of peace had been concluded. But 
 as treaties of peace with the Indians had been so 
 frequently and flagrantly violated, very little faith 
 was placed in the stability of such agreements by 
 the shrewder frontiermen, notwithstanding that 
 they were as often the aggressors as the Indians 
 themselves. 
 
 Half the backwoodsmen of the times had been 
 born in forts, and had been reared, so to speak, in a 
 state of siege. The Indian war had continued so 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 205 
 
 unbroken for such a length of time, and was, more- 
 over, so bloody and outrageous, that they believed 
 war with the savages was the normal state of affairs, 
 and would continue just so long as an Indian re- 
 mained to prove treacherous and to attack his prey 
 in the most cowardly and secret manner. Their 
 experience and their inability to believe in any- 
 thing partaking of the Indian nature made it 
 impossible to place confidence in the stability of 
 treaties with the Indians. Lewis Wetzel, hearing of 
 this proposed treaty, came to the fort. 
 
 General Harmar was anxiously engaged in his 
 endeavors to effect peace, — a peace which the scout 
 thought scandalous, but which he had no power or 
 voice to set aside, and he deemed that as the 
 Indians must be incessantly passing and repassing 
 between their camp and the fort there would be a 
 fair opportunity of adding a few scalps to his many. 
 For days he loitered around the fort. General 
 Harmar knew that he meant vengeance, and that 
 he alone might yet make the peace abortive. He 
 commanded that Wetzel should be brought before 
 him. 
 
 " He must be caught first," said a settler. 
 
 " He shall be !" angrily exclaimed the general. 
 
 " Shall be ?" quietly concluded the settler. 
 
 The general looked at the man. There was 
 18 
 
206 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 something in the impassive face of the frontierman 
 that suggested to the officer that Lewis Wetzel, if he 
 had no bosom friends who took his griefs as their 
 own, yet was not without aid if he chose to avail 
 himself of it. 
 
 " General," said another frontierman to the com- 
 mandant, "don't you have too much to say to Lewis 
 Wetzel." 
 
 "I do not intend to have my projects for peace 
 set aside because of one murderous man." 
 
 " Murderous ! That's a hard word, general. Lewis 
 Wetzel never committed murder." 
 
 "i)o you mean to say that he never killed an 
 Indian?" 
 
 " Do you call that murder ?'* 
 
 "What else is it?" 
 
 "His father was murdered; he only kills his 
 father's murderers. But, peace or no peace, Lewis 
 Wetzel had better be left alone." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Well, you see the people kind o' dote on him, 
 and if there's a hair of his head hurt — blessed if I 
 know what mightn't happen." 
 
 " Nothing shall happen." 
 
 "We'll see." 
 
 "We will." 
 
 But the general awoke to the consciousness that 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 207 
 
 Wetzel was not merely a renegade, as many Indian 
 scouts were regarded. The people understood the 
 feeling that actuated him, and fully sympathized 
 with him. 
 
 So Wetzel loitered about Fort Harmar, and he 
 often chanced upon a settler or two without under- 
 standing why so many frontiermen had nothing 
 more to do than he had. 
 
 General Harmar understood a little better, and 
 knew that these- settlers loitering in the steps of 
 Wetzel were a guard to defend the scout from the 
 incursions of the military. 
 
 " I cannot understand," said the scout once to a 
 chance acquaintance, " why you men love idleness 
 so. I have been here for days ; it is a busy season, 
 or ought to be ; and yet each day, wherever I walk, 
 I always come across a strong, hearty man or two 
 who go slinking on, seeming so lazy as not even to 
 bestow a second look on me who cross their path." 
 
 " Well," said his acquaintance, " it do seem queer, 
 don't it?" 
 
 "You yourself," continued Wetzel, "have you 
 nothing to do to-day ?" 
 
 "Who? Me? Lor' bless you, Wetzel, I'm not 
 goin' to my grave doubled up like old Daddy 
 Eberly, till I really believe we'll have to bury him 
 in a barrel — he's that round. He worked too hard, 
 
208 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 and work doubled him up. No, sir; I haven't got 
 the first thing to do. And, sir, if you choose, you 
 can see me any day you walk around, sir, and it'^s 
 none of your business, sir, neither is it any of mine." 
 
 Wetzel walked away from the man, who was 
 grinning and clearly making fun of his interlocutor. 
 
 "It is none of my business," the scout said to 
 himself. " The man was right, my business is not 
 with idle men; it is with busy devils." 
 
 One day as he rested on a slope of ground over- 
 looking the fort, his eyes turned towards a squad of 
 men going through a rude form of drill, Wetzel was 
 startled by a voice saying : 
 t " Not so bad, eh, partner ?" 
 
 He looked up. Beside him stood a tall, thin, 
 begrimed man, looking intently over towards the 
 drilling men at the fort. 
 
 " Guess you don't know me," he said after awhile, 
 his eyes still fixed upon the fort. " Guess you have 
 forgot old friends." 
 
 "Are you Veach Dickerson?" asked Wetzel, re- 
 membering a man as reckless as himself and filled 
 with as bitter a hatred for the Indians 
 
 " You've got it," said Dickerson. " And now tell 
 mc what brings you here ?" 
 
 Wetzel imparted to him his plan. 
 
 " I'm with you," said the other, as the scout con- 
 cluded ; " I'm your man.'' 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 209 
 
 Wetzel never cared particularly for a partner in 
 Lis battles, arguing that it was from no common 
 love of bloodshed that he acted as he did, but that 
 his old injury called aloud to him at all times, 
 demanded revenge, and would not allow him to rest 
 inactive. But that injury was no other man's ; he 
 held jealously to it as his own alone, and that no 
 one else on earth had a right to avenge his 
 slaughtered father — his own hand only must wither 
 and grow tired before the spilled blood of his father 
 would be fitly and sufficiently atoned for. 
 
 " Da the varmints at the fort keep you from 
 beginning now?" asked Dickerson, impatient to 
 begin the work of destruction. 
 
 " No," answered Wetzel ; but few Indians have 
 come up yet." 
 
 " There's danger to you, though," said Dickerson. 
 
 " It would be murder if no danger attended what 
 I do." 
 
 "While now?" questioned Dickerson, not quite 
 apt at this reasoning. 
 
 *' Now it is only carrying out the Bible precept, 
 * an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,' " said Wetzel. 
 
 Dickerson looked at him. 
 
 " Don't that same Bible say a little something, 
 here and there, about forgiving our enemies?" 
 asked be. 
 
210 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Yes, forgive our enemies when they come to us 
 contrite and asking for mercy. Not when they 
 creep silently over the ground in our tracks ; come 
 to us in the night with murder in their minds; wait 
 for us in -quiet places, cruel, sharp knives in their 
 hands; study day after day how they can best injure 
 us, and carry in their minds a hatred for us only 
 made greater and more deadly from feeding on the 
 imagined cause. The Bible don't say one word 
 about forgiving such an enemy. Such an enemy 
 crucifies forgiveness, pierces the heart of forgiveness, 
 and bathes the parching lips of forgiveness with 
 vinegar and gall. No, no, no ; I have read all about 
 that for years, when I have been alone. And then, 
 more, — how can a mere Injim be an enemy?" 
 
 " The last part is true," assented Dickerson, con- 
 vinced. "And now come on." 
 
 They set off without any further delay, and soon 
 arrived at the desired point, and sat down in am- 
 bush in the long grass near the path leading from 
 the fort to the camp, and waited grim as fate. They 
 could hear the men in the fort laughing, and over 
 from the Indian camp came the loud squeal of a 
 pig which the savages were killing. Birds flew up 
 from the grass, their mouths filled with woolly roots 
 and mosses for their little nests. Wetzel's eye fol- 
 lowed these birds, which meant home and love and 
 
AN INDIAN WA YLAID. 21 1 
 
 mated happiness. Did the man hiding in the grass, 
 and filled with intent of doing harm, yearn for some 
 of the peace which even little birds could have, and 
 which was denied him? Did careless birds carry 
 no deadly life-loDg hatred in their little sowgful 
 breasts? Bat birds had no souls, no intelligence, 
 were not responsible; if their fathers or mothers 
 were killed, they were not called upon to avenge the 
 murder, but went singing on as ever. 
 
 "If we only had a jug of spirits along," laughed 
 Dickerson, breaking in upon his companion's reverie. 
 
 " What for ?" asked Wetzel, regarding him coldly. 
 
 " Why, we should enjoy the whole thing more," 
 said Dickerson. 
 
 " Enjoy !" repeated Wetzel, harshly, " did you say 
 enjoy! How can you think of such a word as 
 enjoy! Does the Lord enjoy the smiting of his 
 base and perverted children? Did he enjoy the 
 sending forth of the chijdren of Israel ? — the killing 
 of Pharaoh and his host? What pleasure is there 
 in avenging our wrongs? It is our duty." 
 
 " If you don't take any pleasure in all this, you'd 
 better be by yourself," said Dickerson, offended at 
 the dictatorial tone of his companion. 
 
 " I did not ask you to come," returned Wetzel. 
 
 " Maybe you'll ask me to go ?" 
 
 " You can go or stay ; I regulate no man's actions. 
 
212 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 This is not my land ; it is as much j^ours as mine. 
 You are not my enemy, and I would like to be your 
 friend. But I am not here for pleasure." 
 
 " I can't understand you, Wetzel," said Dickerson, 
 laughing lightly and seating himself upon the 
 ground again. 
 
 " Now, every one knows, Wetzel," went on Dicker- 
 son, crumbling a flake of loose earth between his 
 fingers, "that you'd grind the Injuns into Injun- 
 meal, as fine as this mud in my hand. And why 
 would you do this? Simply because it pleases you 
 to do it. Nobody interferes with you here; you 
 do just as it pleases you to do, and if you do 
 what it pleases you to do, don't you call that 
 pleasure? I do. You do it for fun, and fun you 
 have. We all say of nights, when we gather 'round 
 a fire, or smoke in the moonlight, ' I wonder where 
 Wetzel is? Up to some fun, be sure o' that.' That's 
 what we say, Wetzel; and among so many of us 
 somebody is sure to be right. The only trouble 
 about it is, that you make too much of a secret of it. 
 Why can't you always have one of us along with 
 you? We hate the red cusses as much as you do, 
 and we'd like a little o' the fun too. For you've 
 had more time than we've had, and you've studied 
 up the thing more, and can tell just where the fun 
 comes in and when it is coming. But no, you take 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID, 213 
 
 it all quietly, and don't act cheerful and share your 
 fun with your friends. You're not doing right, 
 Wetzel ; that's what it is, — you are not doing right 
 by your friends. So none of us can understand you.'' 
 
 A pained expression shot across the face of the 
 scout. Did anybody understand him ? 
 
 But the man at his side was only as the others. 
 Wetzel said a few words to him kindly and to prove 
 that there was no harshness in his thought. 
 
 Dickerson did not answer, but lay at full length 
 contemplating the other's face, so set and cold, as he 
 waited in the tall grass, the sun glinting down and 
 making his long hair shine like great shafts of 
 ebony. 
 
 And thus they waited on, silent and almost mo- 
 tionless, as the hours went by, and there was no ap- 
 proaching step near them. They were almost like 
 statues, their guns in their hands, their eyes peering 
 through the grass, their ears on the alert for the 
 slightest indications of the approach of a moccasin. 
 
 They were so silent and motionless, that a shy- 
 eyed deer came and looked at them, cropped a few 
 spears of grass near by, and then leisurely trotted 
 off to join its companions, possibly to report the 
 discovery of a new species of plant shaped like men 
 with guns, but which did not possess even vegetable 
 motion. 
 
214 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 Shortly before sundown, and wlien they least 
 expected it, a dull thud smote their ears. 
 
 "Hist!" said Wetzel, breaking the silence, "a 
 chief on horseback, coming at full speed. Up with 
 you, and hail him." 
 
 They were on their feet, and called to the hurry- 
 ing red-skin. 
 
 But, owing to the clatter of the horse's feet, he may 
 not have heard them. At any rate, he did not heed 
 them, but galloped on, sweeping by them with a 
 grand flourish, never vouchsafing to cast his eyes in 
 their direction. 
 
 " He will accept of no quarter," said Wetzel ; " he 
 will not heed us." 
 
 " Then he is an enemy," cried Dickerson. 
 
 They raised their rifles; there were a couple of 
 sharp crackles in the bright air, a bird or two flew 
 up, a couple of deer whizzed by, the flying horse of 
 the Indian threw up its head. 
 
 But the Indian did not fall from his saddle, going 
 on as unconcerned as ever. 
 
 "How could both of us miss him?" grumbled 
 Dickerson. 
 
 They could see the camp of the Indians, and they 
 thought there was a sort of alarm there. The 
 escaped Indian was riding on rapidly, and from the 
 camp issued mounted savages, all directing their 
 course towards their attacked brother. 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 215 
 
 " Do 3'ou see that ?" asked Dickerson. 
 
 " It is time for us to go," returned Wetzel. 
 
 For as the alarm would very soon be spread 
 among the vast number of assembled red-skins 
 that one of their number had been waylaid and 
 jfired upon, the white men knew of the scurrying of 
 the country after the shooters, and began an imme- 
 diate retreat. 
 
 Wetzel's friends had known of his going to watch 
 for the Indians from around Fort Harmar, and they 
 awaited him and his companion in camp, and 
 eagerly clustered about the two. 
 
 " And what luck, what luck ?" they questioned. 
 
 " Luck !'' repeated Wetzel. 
 
 "How many Injun's scalps?" was the question. 
 "That's luck, isn't it?" 
 
 " Then we had bad luck, cursed luck," he replied. 
 
 " This is the first time you ever was played false 
 by an Injun," said the man who held him in talk. 
 "I always say that the Injuns ain't more to be 
 depended on in death than in life. They do all 
 they can to prevent a white man doing of his duty, 
 and then pretend they want peace, and are willing 
 to do anything to have it. What do they waste 
 good powder and balls of the white man for, eh ?" 
 
 "Yes, we shot at a fellow on horseback, but he 
 rode on scratching his back as if he had been stung 
 by a yellow-jacket," said Dickerson, gloomily. 
 
216 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 But that night into the camp came a jaded horse 
 with a dead Indian on its back. He had been shot 
 through the hips, and had bled to death on his 
 horse's back. 
 
 It was soon rumored that Wetzel was the slayer. 
 Fort Harmar was outraged. 
 
 " And this is how my efforts at peace are regard- 
 ed," said General Harmar. " The murderer shall be 
 taken, and an example be made of him." 
 
 Accordingly, Captain Kingsbury and a picked 
 company of men were directed to proceed to the 
 Mingo Bottom, and take Wetzel alive or dead, — the 
 precaution of a large number of troops detailed 
 being necessary from the desperate character the 
 scout seemed to have acquired. 
 
 But it was a useless and wholly impotent order 
 General Harmar had given. 
 
 " A company of mere men could as easily have 
 drawn Beelzebub out of the bottomless pit, as take 
 Lewis Wetzel from the Mingo Bottom settlement," 
 says the chronicle of the times. 
 
 On the very day that Captain Kingsbury and his 
 men arrived at the Bottom, there was a shooting- 
 match there, and Lewis Wetzel had been prevailed 
 upon to show his dexterity with the rifle. 
 
 A heap of slaughtered pigeons beside him attested 
 that he had delighted his entertainers to the best of 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 217 
 
 his ability; and he was on the point of reloading 
 his piece when Captain Kingsbury was seen coming 
 up the river. 
 
 His object was at once conjectured. 
 
 Without acquainting Wetzel of the fact, for his 
 back was towards the river, and he was quietly 
 firing, it was resolved to ambush the captain's 
 barge, and kill him and all his company. 
 
 "What else can be done?" they said, in extenua- 
 tion, "for Wetzel shall not be taken." 
 
 But, happily, Captain McMahan was present, and 
 he went to Wetzel and told him the state of affairs, 
 and prevailed on him to use his influence in per- 
 suading his admirers to suspend the attack, while 
 he (McMahan) would go down to the shore and 
 await Kingsbury, and, perhaps, by representing 
 matters in their proper light, induce him to return 
 without landing. 
 
 " I am, then, to persuade my friends by this argu- 
 ment that I look upon myself as a man guilty of 
 murder ?" said Wetzel, smiling. 
 
 " You alone can prevent an indiscriminate slaugh- 
 ter of innocent men who only come here by command 
 of a superior officer," was the reply of McMahan. 
 
 "At least I may tell them that it is for their own 
 
 good not to attack those who are coming for me?" 
 
 asked Wetzel. 
 19 
 
218 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "You can say whatever you please; but you 
 know the consequences to your friends if these men 
 are attacked." 
 
 Wetzel immediately went to his friends and 
 argued with them, almost failing at times to con- 
 vince them that it was fool-hardiness that prompted 
 their attack on the men sent from the fort to arrest 
 him, and that such an attack would be the worse 
 for their interest as well as his own. At length he 
 persuaded them that it was not the best way for them 
 to assisl him. 
 
 "Well, we'll promise to suspend operations — for 
 the present," said one admirer. 
 
 " But you mustn't keep us too long waiting," said 
 another. 
 
 With this reluctant proviso, Wetzel came to 
 McMahan. 
 
 " I have them in check for the present," he said, 
 but I cannot tell how long they will obey my wishes. 
 Do all you can to prevent them from landing, and I 
 will stay here and endeavor to turn the matter into 
 a burlesque, and the troops may receive only 
 laughter, which will not prove fatal to any of 
 them." 
 
 " I shall report this to your favor," said McMahan. 
 
 " I want no report, favorable or unfavorable to me, 
 to go to General liar mar," returned Wetzel. " I do 
 
AN IXDIAN WAYLAID. 219 
 
 what I am doing to save my friends. You speak as 
 though you, too, accused me of crime." 
 
 '' Did you not kill the Indian?" 
 
 " Whether I did or not, that is not a crime — not a 
 murder. But go ! you do not understand — no one 
 does. Go ! hurry to your friends ; and I will stay 
 with mine." 
 
 Hurriedly mounting his horse, McMahan thun- 
 dered down the embankment to the river. 
 
 Kingsbury and his men were slowl}^ toiling up 
 the river, the roots of trees and the debris there 
 making the journey peculiarly troublesome. The 
 men on board were grumbling, and complaining 
 that all this trouble should have been taken merely 
 for the sake of capturing one simple frontierman. 
 
 " If this is army discipline," said a regular at the 
 bow, " it's the queerest I ever heard of. A big party 
 of men like us to go and capture a single man that 
 never makes a pretense of hiding himself. You 
 might suppose he'd set the world on fire, and the Old 
 Boy had sent for him to punish him for doing 
 things without authority from down below. Instead 
 of setting the world on fire, here he is a simple, 
 stupid enough sort of fellow, who would rather go 
 alone with his gun, than join us and go in a squad. 
 Pretty discipline that takes a crowd to capture one 
 single, simple frontierman." 
 
220 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 "A murderer," said Captain Kingsbury, who 
 overheard the complaint. 
 
 " It will take more than General Harmar to prove 
 to the settlers so much as that," answered a man. 
 
 " Well, the general's orders have got to be obeyed," 
 said the captain, " and I will not leave the Bottom 
 till I have Lewis Wetzel." 
 
 "Then you'll never leave it," growled a man, 
 "and the prospects are that we shall not, either. 
 Does that look hopeful ?'^ 
 
 He pointed over to the shore towards which they 
 were pulling. 
 
 McMahan had dismounted, and stood anxiously 
 gesticulating to those on board. Behind and above 
 him was a solid group of determined men restlessly 
 chafing under the promise they had made Wetzel 
 that they would not stir from where they were, nor 
 approach the water any closer for a quarter of an 
 hour. This was as much as he could get them to 
 promise. He had tried to turn the affair into a 
 joke, and had failed. It might seem mightily 
 amusing to have a few militia men to come to the 
 Bottom to tell the settlers what their duty was. 
 But it was an insult to their manhood to be told 
 that they were expected to stand by quietly and 
 consent to see one of their number taken, merely 
 for having shot down an Indian, who would have 
 
AN INDIAN WA YLAID. 221 
 
 shot him down without scruple if he had got the 
 first chance. General Harmar was not the com- 
 mander-in-chief of the settlers, let him remember 
 that. 
 
 Had General Harmar come in person just then, 
 all the respect due to military authority might have 
 been overthrown by the indignation which spoke 
 from every face. General Harmar was nothing 
 more than a man, and were they not all men also? 
 And what did they owe General Harmar that he 
 should think he had the authority to command, 
 respect of his orders? He had done more harm 
 than good, anyhow — had made the Indians more 
 impertinent than ever, if that were possible; and 
 now he said that that same impertinence must be 
 respected besides all the old flagrant behavior of 
 the Indians. Murmurs were heard on every side. 
 
 " I can't stand in one position all day, even to 
 please Wetzel," said a man, nervously handling the 
 trigger of his gun. 
 
 "And who is Wetzel, any more than Harmar, to 
 make us obey him ?" asked another. 
 
 They lost sight of everything but the sense of the 
 slight put upon themselves. 
 
 '' But be quiet ! be quiet !" said an older man, and 
 possibly a cooler one, "he only bargained for min- 
 utes. It takes sixty o' that sort to make an hour. 
 
222 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Just you wait till our minutes are up! Then if 
 them men in that boat won't have a pretty long 
 hour, just tell me my name ought to be Ananias, 
 and I won't tell you you lie. Be quiet ! be quiet 1 
 There's plenty more minutes in the world, and some 
 other men shall think it's better to stand in one 
 position all their life than to change too often — as 
 them men in that boat '11 surely say afore I'm 
 through with 'em. Be quiet! be quiet! — and do 
 your duty by yourselves." 
 
 "Be quiet! be quiet!" echoed another man, and 
 the complaints were hushed for the time being. 
 
 Every moment's enforced quiet, however, made 
 the men more outraged at the slight put upon their 
 intelligence. 
 
 "Just as if General Harmar knew more about 
 the Indians than we do," they argued. 
 
 Captain Kingsbury was now near the bank of the 
 river. 
 
 " Shall we let them land after all ?" asked a settler. 
 
 " Where is Wetzel ?" asked the one addressed, 
 cautiously looking around. 
 
 " Here !" said Wetzel, who heard it all, and now 
 came forward. 
 
 The men remained silent. 
 
 Captain Kingsbury was now within speaking 
 distance of the shore. The settlers could scarcely 
 restrain themselves, and scowled at Wetzel. 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 223 
 
 "A pretty state of affairs," said one, to hang a 
 man for shooting an Indian that kills his white 
 man every day. 
 
 " Will they hang Wetzel?" 
 
 "That's the punishment for murder — and that's 
 what they accuse him of." 
 
 "They'll never hang a settler for a cut-throat 
 Indian as long as I'm around." 
 
 "Nor while I am." 
 
 ".Was Wetzel's father nothing? Why didn't they 
 hang the Indians that murdered him ?" 
 
 Wetzel saw that his authority was w^eakening with 
 every word they spoke, and he looked anxiously 
 towards the slowly advancing militia. 
 
 He never for a moment harbored the intention of 
 giving himself up as a murderer, but he ivould 
 protect his friends. 
 
 Major McMahan, down on the river's bank, w^as as 
 nervous as he over the possible result of this expedi- 
 tion. He threw up his arms when the boat was yet 
 a good way off, and signaled Captain Kingsbury 
 not to come any nearer. 
 
 " On !" said Kingsbury, seeing the men ship their 
 oars. 
 
 " But the major signals us to stop," said a man. 
 
 " On !" commanded Captain Kingsbury. " Major 
 McMahan is not commanding this boat." . 
 
224 J^WIS WETZEL. 
 
 The oars splashed into the water again, and 
 sparkled in the light like silver. The boat grated 
 on the shore. 
 
 " Halt !" rang out the voice of Major McMahan. • 
 
 Those on the shore saw the commander of the 
 boat pause for the first time when that word rang 
 out with doubtful meaning. 
 
 The men on the boat had their guns in their 
 hands, looking up to that grim, silent company of 
 settlers high on the shore, not stirring so much as a 
 foot now, nor whispering a word, but each waiting 
 anxiously until the few minutes elapsed wdiich 
 should absolve them from their promise to the man 
 these others had come to take against the principles 
 of the settlers' warfare. The settlers on their part 
 could see the anxious looks of Major McMahan as 
 he directed Captain Kingsbury's eyes inland. 
 
 They could see that a confab was under way. 
 
 For the major was informing Captain Kingsbury 
 of the force and fury of the people, and assured him, 
 that did he attempt to seize Wetzel, he would have 
 all the settlers in all parts of the country upon him, 
 and that then nothing could save him and his troops 
 from massacre. 
 
 "But my orders?" remonstrated the captain. 
 
 "Orders or no orders, sir," said McMahan, "you 
 either torn back, or take the consequences." 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 225 
 
 " Am I and these men under me to be thwarted 
 by one man ?" 
 
 " By a thousand men, you mean. Lewis Wetzel 
 himself has little power with the men who would 
 avenge him. They love the principle more than 
 the}^ do the man." 
 
 The captain turned his eyes inland ; he could see 
 the crowds of men collected closely together and 
 glaring out towards him, repressed excitement 
 plainly discernible in their enforced attention. 
 
 One man stood apart, leaning on his rifle, his 
 eyes directed with the others in the direction of the 
 would-be captors. 
 
 " That is your man," said Major McMahan, point- 
 ing out the solitary figure. 
 
 "Am I to be so near him, and yet not take him?" 
 frowned Captain Kingsbury, looking towards the 
 man leaning on his rifle. 
 
 " Can you take him with such odds as I have 
 mentioned ?^^ asked McMahan. " And hurry ! hurry I 
 He has forced the men to respect your authority — 
 inasmuch as they will not attack you unless you 
 attack him. His authority is at an end, and doubt- 
 less in a few minutes it will be too late. Hurry! 
 hurry !" 
 
 There was but one thing to do; that Captain 
 Kingsbury conceded. 
 
226 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Fearing for the safety of the men under him, he 
 immediately gave orders to turn about, and the next 
 minute the barge floated on, eagerly helped along 
 by every man inside who had seen the hills and the 
 men there. 
 
 There was a frantic huzza from the crowd of 
 settlers. The fifteen minutes' grace were up. They 
 ran pell-mell down to the river side, some going 
 into the water and ofiering to swim after the barge; 
 others gathered handsful of river mud with which 
 they bespattered the receding troops'; knd others 
 again dug bits of rock with their hands and hurled 
 them after the barge. They danced on the shore, 
 reviling Captain Kingsbury for a coward and a pol- 
 troon, well knowing that such was not the case, but 
 angered now that Major McMahan had forced them 
 into inactivity. 
 
 " Where is McMahan ?" some one cried. 
 
 " Where is McMahan ?" cried all. 
 
 But the major had known what was coming, and 
 was not in view. 
 
 In the midst of the excitement a man cried out : 
 
 "And it was not Wetzel's bullet that killed the 
 Indian ; and Wetzel knew it, and would not lay the 
 blame on me. You all know me, Veach Dickerson. 
 I swear that we both aimed at the Indian ; but my 
 bullet struck him. I swear this, and I swear that 
 
AN INDIAN WAYLAID. 227 
 
 Wetzel knows it. But who will believe it? Wetzel 
 will not say he missed fire, and who will believe his 
 aim was ever at fault ?" 
 
 Whether this story of Dickerson is true or not, 
 and whether he did not thus try to draw the blame 
 from the scout, knowing his prominence, and feeling 
 assured that this was not to be the last they should 
 hear about the dead Indian, is not in the province 
 of the present narrator to say. 
 
 But it was sufficient for the time to turn the crowd 
 from the protection of the principle to the adoration 
 and protection of the man. They now declared that 
 they were glad they had obeyed the scout, and let 
 Captain Kingsbury off; and that were the captain 
 and his troops here now they would be treated as 
 lambs, which, considering that mutton is frequently 
 slain in the shape of lamb, is but equivocal. 
 
 Then they turned on Dickerson. 
 
 "Why didn't you own up, then?" they asked, 
 " and not let an .innocent man take the blame?" 
 
 " If Wetzel wanted me to be' accused wouldn't he 
 have denied the killing?" argued Dickerson. 
 
 Thus was the authority of the scout with these 
 men, that they w^illingly believed any tale which 
 exalted him and proved that while they obeyed a 
 certain indefinable something about him, that some- 
 thing was an innate and simple nobility that never 
 fails of partisans in a simple and rude community. 
 
228 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Well might Captain Kingsbur}^, in the now far-off 
 bayge, feel that he had cause to be thankful that he 
 had taken Major McMahan's prudent advice when 
 he looked and saw that river bank alive with wild 
 and audacious men. 
 
 The troops were gathered about him, looking 
 back with him. 
 
 " There's a solitary figure, behind all the rest, and 
 it has not moved since I've looked at it," said a man. 
 
 Captain Kingsbury turned his eyes in the direc- 
 tion indicated, and saw, alone and still leaning on 
 his gun, the man he had come to arrest, but who had 
 escaped him. 
 
 Further and further floated the barge, and the 
 men on the shore were dispersing one way and 
 another, and a bend in the river hid them entirely 
 from view. 
 
 But still those on the barge could see that solitary 
 figure looking in their direction, motionless as a 
 statue, as though he was nothing in common with 
 those around him, but in their midst was an alien 
 to their inmost feelings while he was the motive 
 power of their principles. 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 
 
 n^HE settlers by this retreating movement of 
 
 Captain Kingsbury from the object of his quest 
 
 so easily decided, considered the affair as finally 
 
 adjusted. Many of them came to the conclusion 
 
 that the whole proceeding was only instituted to 
 
 scare them into quiescence, so that no more Indians 
 
 might fall, pending the establishment of a code of 
 
 peace. But, one and all, they determined that the 
 
 general had seen the folly of his orders, and had 
 
 come to the conclusion that he had business more 
 
 in his line than attempting to impeach the good 
 
 conduct of one of their number for the simple 
 
 every-day occurrence of making wild game of a 
 
 villainous Indian. 
 
 "Boys, I'll tell you how it is," said a strapping 
 
 fellow, jambing his hat over his eyes, and mounting 
 
 upon a stump. " Boys, I'll tell you how it is, Harmar 
 
 h.e's ashamed of hisself — that's how it is; he's 
 
 doggoned ashamed of hisself He's seen the error 
 
 of his ways and turned over a new leaf Why 
 20 
 
230 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 what's the good o' Harmar talkin' ? If orders had 
 come for him to fight the red-devils 'stead o' pro- 
 tectin' 'em, wouldn't he done it as soon one way as 
 t'other? I haven't no patience in a man like 
 Harmar." 
 
 **' But orders is orders," interrupted a friend. 
 
 "Orders! I'd just like to see the orders that'd 
 make me go and hold a Injun chief up to my 
 buzzom and call him * dearie/ and chuck him 
 under the chin." 
 
 "Gin'ral Harmar didn't hold no Injun chief to his 
 buzzom and chuck him under the chin, as I ever 
 heered tell on," said a literal man. 
 
 " Who said he did ?" asked the orator angrily. 
 " What I said was that I wouldn't do it, orders or no 
 orders." 
 
 " Well, I'd just like to give a Injun chief a good 
 tight squeeze myself," said another. 
 
 " Shut up, boys !" said the orator, " and hear me 
 out." 
 
 " We'd ruther hear you in ; you're out now — out 
 o' your reckonin'." 
 
 " What I mean, boys, is that Harmar wants to 
 skcer us; and we don't skeer. He's so ashamed o' 
 hisself that he'll take Wetzel's part the very fust 
 time he gets into any trouble. Just mark my words 
 if that ain't so." 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE, ' 231 
 
 "Yes," they all assented, "the general was 
 ashamed of himself for tndng to intimidate a lot 
 of peaceable men simply because a murderous 
 Indian had gone the way of all Indian flesh, and 
 could not blame any disease for the taking off. 
 Yes, surely. General Harmar meant to show a 
 different line of conduct in the future." 
 
 But in this the settlers erred ; the affair was by no 
 means at an end, and, from what they considered 
 such a trifle to make so much bother about, the 
 whole principle of the scout system was destined to 
 become involved, and a trial of strength instituted 
 as to which was the ruling power — the military 
 determined to establish peace between the white 
 and red men, or the settlers, equally determined 
 from long experience, that such a peace was falla- 
 cious just so long as the Indians claimed the land 
 and stock which the white man had cultivated by 
 strenuous exertion, and with untold difhcult}^ 
 
 For General Harmar, having had familiar ac- 
 quaintance with the insubordination of the frontier, 
 and having been a frequent witness of the small 
 respect entertained for military discipline, decided 
 to make a test case of this matter; and after the 
 return of Captain Kingsbury, and his report of the 
 reception of the general's orders, to press those 
 orders to the fullest, in the settlement of this 
 
232 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 flagrant breach, and to prove to the utmost the rela- 
 tive strengths of the settlers and the military. 
 
 The military, however, demurred, and some of 
 them flatly refused to obey any orders that made 
 them the enemies of the settlers, their old friends. 
 Others, again, openly deserted, and went over to the 
 other side, declaring that the general usurped his 
 authority, and that his better mode would be to 
 establish peace, now that the frontiermen admired 
 him somewhat for his respect for their principles. 
 But those who knew General Harmar best, knew 
 that this could not be; that no general of the army 
 would brook such insolence from men wdio rebelled 
 against established authority. 
 
 " This man Wetzel shall be my prisoner," he said, 
 " if it takes my life and the life of my army to ac- 
 complish the capture." 
 
 Therefore orders were issued that a new expedi- 
 tion was to be forthwith undertaken for the appre- 
 hension and detention of the white man who had 
 shot the Indian near Fort Harmar. 
 
 As Wetzel, filled with his old unrest, was never 
 very long stationary in any one place, but ranged at 
 will along the river from Fort Pitt to the falls of the 
 Ohio, and was always a welcome guest and perfectly 
 at home wherever ho chose to go, a little while after 
 the frustrated attempt to seize him by Captain 
 Kingsbury, he made one of his usual excursions. 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 233 
 
 He got into his canoe with the intention of pro- 
 ceeding down the Ohio to Kentucky. 
 
 But having a friend named Carr who had lately 
 settled on the island near Fort Harmar. he deter- 
 mined to pay this friend a visit, and here he stopped, 
 with a view of remaining over night. ' 
 
 But by some means, which were never explained, 
 General Harmar was advised of his presence on the 
 island, a fugitive from justice coming directly into 
 the teeth of the law wdthout a particle of fear. It 
 was too much for the commander. A guard was 
 selected, and with much difficulty, for they expected 
 a warm reception ; besides, they may have been a 
 little in sympathy with Wetzel, and felt the shame 
 of a party of well-cared-for men surrounding and 
 capturing another man who, without home or 
 means, was simply carrying out a line of war which 
 had hitherto been regarded as perfectly legitimate, 
 and had been instituted from stern necessity by the 
 men who first came to the wilds in advance of their 
 more timid brethren, who came after danger was 
 over to prove to those who had come in advance 
 that their mode of procedure had been entirely 
 WTong, and that it must be upset and begun all over 
 again. 
 
 However, the guard was sent across the island in 
 the night time, and was guided to Carr's house. 
 
234 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 It was but a small, rude cabin, hastily put together 
 by the young man, whose bride, it is said, used to 
 direct his labors, sitting on a log, and telling him 
 how to construct the house most convenient to her. 
 It is also told, that after he had gotten it pretty well 
 under way, she discovered that the chimney was not 
 in the place she liked it best, so he tore the entire 
 structure down and built it all up again, this time 
 taking care of the chimney. When it was finished, 
 she said : 
 
 "Now that chimney was all right in the first 
 place ; but I wanted to see what kind of a husband 
 you would make." 
 
 But this had been some time ago, and the house 
 the troops approached was finished, chimney and 
 all. All was darkness and silence here; moreover, 
 none of the occupants suspected any advent of 
 military authority. The men outside waited a 
 moment in the darkness and silence, and then the 
 captain in charge knocked on the rude door. 
 
 " Open, in the name of the law !" he cried. 
 
 A woman inside screamed. 
 
 " We're killed ! we're killed ! we're killed !" cried 
 the woman within, and kept up a scream of prodig- 
 ious intensity. 
 
 The men outside were awed ; some were for break- 
 ing open the door. 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE, 235 
 
 " She's upset the habby," said a man. 
 
 " Silence !" commanded the officer in charge. 
 
 Just at that moment the startling scream sub- 
 sided as suddenly as it had broken upon the still- 
 ness of the night. 
 
 " Babby's upset the mother," said a man. 
 
 " Silence !" commanded the officer in charge. 
 
 There was whispering inside for a minute, and 
 then that was hushed. 
 
 Again silence came. 
 
 " Open, in the name of the law !" cried the officer 
 a second time. 
 
 "Injun law, or white law?" asked a man's voice 
 from the inside. 
 
 Clearly a suspicion existed inside as to who the 
 visitors were, and time was wanted. 
 
 " Who are you ?" asked the voice from within 
 again. 
 
 "Friends to friends of law and order," was the 
 reply. 
 
 There was a fumbling inside, and entreaties in a 
 woman's voice and assurances in a man's. 
 
 Then the door was opened by Carr himself, with a 
 lantern in one hand and a rifle in the other. 
 
 He was immediately disarmed and held by the 
 regulars. 
 
 " Is this friendly violence?" he asked indignantly, 
 
236 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 while Lis wife wept on his breast. "You come to 
 my house in the night like a party of marauders; 
 you demand admittance to my house without telling 
 me who you are; you disarm me when I would pro- 
 tect myself from enemies who could not come more 
 deceitfully than you do ; you hold me a prisoner 
 without saying of what I am accused. Keep where 
 you are, wife !" turning to her ; " if these men so 
 much as lay a finger on you, run to the stove and 
 throw a live coal on the powder barrel." 
 
 She stood from him, but not a man laid a finger 
 upon her, and she smiled as she saw them give her 
 a wide berth, for the stove was beside her. 
 
 " We are after our prisoner," was the explanation 
 offered for the imposed indignity, " and we must 
 not be put to more trouble than is necessary in our 
 quest." 
 
 " There are none of your prisoners here," returned 
 Carr in a loud voice. 
 
 " Lewis Wetzel is here," replied the captain. 
 
 The woman, for some time silent, now rent the 
 air with cries, clearly to apprize a third party of the 
 proximity of danger. 
 
 " Is Wetzel here ?" asked the captain, confused by 
 the heart-rending cries. 
 
 " He is not your prisoner, and never will be. 
 Treason ! treason ! treason !" shouted Carr, his wife's 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE, 237 
 
 voice ascending the gamut till she reached an ear- 
 piercing note, which she held to tenaciously. 
 
 " Enter, men, and do your duty," commanded the 
 officer hurriedly, snatching the lantern from one of 
 the men and leading the way. 
 
 Guided by the dim lantern, they found in an 
 inner room the man they sought, and who had not 
 been wakened by all the noise around him. Worn 
 out by fatigue and privation, he slept, the lantern 
 light along his face failing to disturb him, only 
 showing the lines and weather-marks there. 
 
 " Secure him !" whispered the captain. 
 
 The men actually bound him hand and foot with- 
 out awakening him. 
 
 They then shook him, and he arose in bewilder- 
 ment, but soon understood the situation, and tried 
 to free himself from his bonds, but unsuccessfully. 
 
 "Cowards!" he said. "A score to one sleeping 
 man !" 
 
 Without a word of reply, he was hurried from the 
 house, the wife of Carr still keeping up her vocal 
 endeavors, and her husband, whose gun was carried 
 off, crying after the troops : 
 
 " The settlers shall know this ! The settlers shall 
 know this, and then look out ! Keep up a good 
 heart, Wetzel, and don't let them treat you ill. Die 
 for the principle, Wetzel, but don't live at their 
 mercy." 
 
238 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Wetzel was hurried on to a boat in waiting ; then 
 he was rowed over to the guard-house. 
 
 Here the jailor proceeded to load him with irons. 
 He protested strenuously against such treatment. 
 
 "Am I a malefactor, to be thus ignominiously 
 chained ?" he asked indignantly, thrusting the man 
 from him. For to a man like him this treatment 
 was worse than death itself. 
 
 " You are accused of murdering an Indian," was 
 thp reply vouchsafed his protest. 
 
 "Murdering!" he repeated bitterly. "Do you 
 know what you say? — what that word conveys? 
 Then I am to be treated as a mere cut-throat mur- 
 derer?" 
 
 " You had better ask the general," said an officer 
 present, who plainly entered into the feelings of the 
 scout ; " we are only doing what we are instructed to 
 do, Wetzel." 
 
 " Then take me to General Harmar." 
 
 " That is impossible, just now." 
 
 " I can see him, though ?" 
 
 " You can make the request." 
 
 "Then go to him, and tell him his brave men, 
 who protect murdering Indians, have this night 
 captured a sleeping white man, who, being now 
 awake, and destined to sleep no more where military 
 authority protects the people, requests to speak with 
 him." 
 
CAPTURE ANJ) ESCAPE. 239 
 
 " You cannot expect General Harmar to obey in 
 those words." 
 
 " They are the only words from me. I am not 
 used to deceive in words." 
 
 One of the men was despatched with the message 
 to the general. 
 
 This haughty request naturally only made Wetzel 
 appear more rebellious in the eyes of the commander, 
 whose mission was to effect a subsidence of frontier 
 disturbances, which added materially to the cares of 
 an already overburdened country. 
 
 The general heard the request of the scout, deliv- 
 ered in the self-same words, without a word of indig- 
 nant reply, or even a frown. 
 
 For General Harmar did not bear any ill-will 
 towards the scout as being Wetzel, but towards the 
 scouts as a system which must be subjugated to 
 more pacific authority. He regarded Wetzel as a 
 very brave man, he said; and, being no coward 
 himself, he could understand the feeling that 
 prompted the protesting request to have an interview 
 with him. 
 
 He resolved to treat the scout with consideration. 
 He came to the guard-house early the day following 
 the capture, and, disdaining a guard, went into the 
 close place. 
 
 "Good-morning, General Harmar," said Wetzel, 
 
240 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 starting up from a reverie he had insensibly fallen 
 into. " Do you see these irons ? Are these by your 
 instructions ?" 
 
 " We could not quite trust you." 
 
 " You see I am your prisoner ?" 
 
 " I see, and I wish it were a less brave man," re- 
 plied the general. 
 
 " You know that I shot at the Indian " 
 
 "You confess it?" 
 
 " Of course. And what is proposed for my sen- 
 tence?" 
 
 "You know the punishment of a crime like 
 yours." 
 
 " Such a crime never had a punishment laid out 
 before this." 
 
 "You know the punishment of men who kill 
 other men ?" 
 
 "It is to be killed by yet other men, exactly. It 
 has always been in my mind — this punishment. 
 These Indians killed my father, and I avenge my 
 father's blood. Oh, yes, I understand that." 
 
 " But there is another name given to this careless 
 killing of men." 
 
 "You mean the actuation of it. I know it has 
 been called insanity in me. I have killed upwards 
 of a couple of scores of Indians, but I cannot say 
 that I am insane. If a snake stings you, do you not 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 241 
 
 kill it? The men I have killed were only such as 
 would kill me, and wholiried to do so. If I do not 
 feel guilty, I am not guilty. I stand the chance of 
 being killed by Indians at any time. They stand 
 the chance of meeting the same fate at my hands. 
 We are in so much equal. Well ?" 
 
 " There is yet another name than insanity given 
 to the man who kills his fellow-man, no matter what 
 the provocation." 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " There is such a thing as murder !" 
 
 " General Harmar, you surely cannot mean that I 
 
 shall be punished as a murderer!" cried Wetzel, 
 
 recoiling at the word. " No, no. General Harmar, 
 
 that cannot be your meaning! lam no cowardly 
 
 murderer ; I do not come upon my foes for the 
 
 sake of plunder or the pleasure of a vengeance or 
 
 wrong committed against my own rights. I do but 
 
 avenge my father and his rights. I have fought, 
 
 and always do fight, the red-skins, with the odds 
 
 against me of their cunning and ferociousness. They 
 
 are against me ; I against them. No, no, you must 
 
 not hang me. Give me up to the Indians whom you 
 
 think I have wronged ; let them be my executioners 
 
 in their own way, but do not hang me. Hear me ! 
 
 hear me ! Do not turn away from me. Give me up 
 
 to these Indians here in your own fort ; tell them 
 21 
 
242 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 they may do with me what they choose ; place them 
 all in a circle, with their scalping knives and toma- 
 hawks in their hands, and tell them how I fired on 
 one of their number near the fort, and how I openly 
 confess to having destroyed a hundred of their 
 brethren, — and then give me a tomahawk, and place 
 me in the midst of them, and let me and the Indians 
 fight it out the best way that we can. But hang 
 me ! — no, no 1 my father's blood must never bring 
 his son to the gallows — my murdered father's blood ! 
 It cried aloud to heaven for vengeance, and could 
 I hear it unmoved ? Think had it been your father, 
 torn from you who loved him so ; think if you had 
 stumbled across his mangled body, seen in the light 
 of your burning home, — how would you have felt ? 
 Think if you saw in every Indian the one who made 
 all this ruin ; would you have let him go unpun- 
 ished? Would you have seen the fairness in being 
 condemned to the halter for doing as I have done? 
 Anything but that, man ; anything but that !" 
 
 To this passionate appeal, spoken as it was with 
 all the energy of outraged sensibility. General 
 Harmar had nothing to say, but turned aside for a 
 minute. Then he faced the prisoner, his face stern 
 once more. 
 
 " Lewis Wetzel," he said, " I own to your wrongs, 
 and the provocation of spirit which actuates you to 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 243 
 
 avenge them. Perhaps, were I in your place, my acts 
 would be condemned as yours are, in the light of rea- 
 sonable law. But I am an officer appointed by the 
 law by which we must all be held in check or else we 
 make a hell of earth. And as that same law does 
 riot in one iota authorize me to make a compromise, 
 I cannot grant your request," and the general hur- 
 ried from the room. 
 
 The two days succeeding this were filled with tor- 
 ture to Wetzel, whose manhood suffered from the 
 stigma proposed to be attached to it. 
 
 He plotted and contrived his escape. 
 
 He recognized the honor of General Harmar's 
 obeying the law, but he scorned the law itself for a 
 false, bad thing, not taking cases like his into con- 
 sideration, and turning a deaf ear to his provoca- 
 tion. 
 
 At the end of two days he was calmer, and seemed 
 to have made up his mind to submit. He again 
 sent for the general. 
 
 " I submit to your interpretation of the law, gen- 
 eral," he said, " but there is a leniency w^hich rests 
 with you individuall}^" 
 
 '•' Anything that I can do, consistent with my 
 sense of duty, I am willing to attempt," returned the 
 general. 
 
 " I have never been confined, then, general, and 
 I shall die, if I have not room to walk about." 
 
244 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Strike off the fetters about his feet," commanded 
 the general, and an officer obeyed. 
 
 " Thank you, general," said Wetzel. 
 
 But his handcuffs were not removed. 
 
 He was allowed to w^alk about at the mouth of the 
 Muskingum, but the men were told to keep a close 
 watch on him. 
 
 As soon as they w^ere outside the fort gate, Wetzel 
 ran and jumped like a child, apparently filled with 
 delight because of his liberty. 
 
 The men laughed at him, and he seemed to appre- 
 ciate their laughing, and endeavored further to 
 amuse them. 
 
 He would start and run a few yards, as though 
 about to try an escape ; then he would turn around 
 and join the guards again. 
 
 The next time he ran further, and then stopped. 
 In this way, each time he ran it w^as a little further 
 from the guards before he stopped and returned. At 
 length, he called forth all his strength, activity, and 
 cunning, and resolved on freedom or death at the 
 hands of the soldiers, but never death on the gcaffold 
 from the common hangman. 
 
 He gave a sudden spring forward, and dashed off 
 with the speed of the wind for his beloved sheltering 
 woods. 
 
 His movement was so quick, so wholly unexpected, 
 
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 245 
 
 that his watchers were taken by complete surprise. 
 Laughingly they expected every moment to see him 
 turn around and run towards them. Some of them 
 clapped their hands at this child's-play, so inconsist- 
 ent with Wetzel's ordinary mood. He had now put 
 about one hundred yards between himself and the 
 men, when the latter began to realize the situation. 
 
 " He is escaping ! he is escaping !" they cried. 
 
 Their voices only spurred the hurrying man the 
 faster. 
 
 " Fire !" came the word of command. 
 
 Bullets whistled about the fugitive, one of them 
 crashing upon the manacles that held his wrists, as 
 he raised his arms above his head to make a spring 
 forward. 
 
 He heard the rush of men after him, and he 
 spurred on towards the dense wood straight ahead of 
 him, where hiding-places awaited him, even with 
 his arms bound out-speeding his pursuers. 
 
 On, on, and he reached the friendly darkness of 
 the familiar forest, and was swallowed up and ab- 
 sorbed by the dense foliage. 
 
 Being so fully acquainted with that part of the 
 country, he made his way to a thicket, three or four 
 miles from the fort, which promised a safe covert. In 
 the midst of this thicket he came across an immense 
 tree, one of the pati'iarchs of the old forest, which 
 
246 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 had fallen across a log, where the surrounding brush 
 was very thick and close. 
 
 Under this friendly tree he managed to squeeze 
 his body, without disturbing the leaves about him. 
 
 Here he was comparatively safe from discovery, 
 for the brush was so thick that detection seemed 
 next to impossible, unless his pursuers had the cun- 
 ning of Indians and examined everything suspi- 
 ciously. 
 
 " But I will never leave this shelter alive in the 
 hands of hangmen," he said. 
 
 This was his firm determination. He would far 
 rather die by an Indian's hand. In his cramped 
 and painful position, more than ever did he realize 
 the predicament he was in. And yet he decided 
 that anything was better than to have left an Indian 
 unscathed when it was in his power to inflict well- 
 merited punishment. 
 
 " But a murderer!" he thought indignantly. "How 
 dare they use such a word to me! Would Isaac 
 have been murdered had his father sacrificed him at 
 the command of God? * Honor thy father,' God 
 commands me ; and I honor him in avenging him. 
 And to be hanged for doing this I No, I will never 
 give myself up to the hangman I" 
 
FREE, 247 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FKEE. 
 
 A S soon as General Harmar knew of the escape, 
 he started the soldiers in pursuit. 
 
 "Let the Indians go, too," he said. "This man 
 has wantonly betrayed my confidence in him." 
 
 The general had lost confidence in the bravery of 
 the man who abused kindness. How could he be 
 expected to enter into Wetzel's feelings? He saw 
 only that it was strength opposed to strength, and 
 he resolved that Wetzel, the Indian scout, should not 
 laugh at the soldier. 
 
 But in the forest the man who had abused the 
 soldier's confidence lay hid, determined, and expect- 
 ant of death every minute. 
 
 Death stared him in the face, and he was not 
 afraid. 
 
 " Why should I be afraid ?" he thought. " I have 
 but done what I know to be right in the sight of One 
 who governs both life and death." 
 
 Bat he would not risk his life ruthlessly; he must 
 keep life at all hazards so long as he might. There 
 
248 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 was no bravery in forcing death upon himself. Death 
 had often stared him in the face before, and once, 
 when he was starving, when he had kept himself 
 apart from his friends while he waited for a man's 
 strength, he had eaten clay to withstand the pangs 
 of hunger, as he had more than once seen the 
 Indians do, to allow the distended muscles of the 
 stomach, that awaited food, to go on with their work, 
 and allow him time to search for something more 
 appetizing than earth. 
 
 And to think of a man wearing an honorable 
 uniform to come after him, as General Harmar did, 
 knowing so well the principle he was violating 1 
 His face burned with indignation as he thought. 
 And he himself had been so willing to assist the 
 military when it had been the pride of the military 
 to shoot Indians. He could not understand, any 
 more than the other settlers could understand. He 
 only knew that he and the men like him were being 
 assailed ; he most of all, because his provocation had 
 been greater, and he had asserted his rights. He 
 pitied the civilization that called his offense a crime. 
 
 No, he would sell his life dearly. He had not lain 
 in his place of concealment very long, before he 
 heard the noise of pursuers. With his knowledge 
 of the sounds of wild life, he distinguished the dif- 
 ference between the coming steps. 
 
FREE, 249 
 
 "I did not think that General Harmar was so 
 cowardly as to take Indians into his confidence to 
 carry out the laws which should make the earth 
 more than a hell," he muttered. 
 
 The sounds of approaching men smote upon his 
 ear, coming nearer and nearer. 
 
 The soldiers kept to the more open wood, looking 
 cautiously about them. 
 
 But the Indians separated from the whites, and, 
 plunging into the heart of the wood, tried the 
 manoeuvres of savage life. 
 
 In the first place, there being many empty tree 
 trunks there, they lighted heaps of leaves and thrust 
 them into the hollow trunks to smoke out any con- 
 cealed human being. They trampled upon heaps 
 of innocent wood-debris for the same purpose of 
 detection. They found mouths of hiding-places 
 which in all probability had never been before 
 known, and their instinct appeared to lead them 
 correctly to places of possible retreat which man had 
 never used. They were plainly disgusted with their 
 failure to discover him they sought, and became ill- 
 natured and exacting of each other, and some even 
 accused others of being cowards, and afraid to 
 capture the white man if they even knew where he 
 was hiding. 
 
 There were more trees overturned than the one 
 
25a LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Wetzel used, and in the outskirt of the wood these 
 were more plentiful, and they did not escape the 
 attention of the vigilant men who, adepts in slyness 
 and cunning, deemed their enemies their equal^ 
 in these qualities. But their search was unavailing, 
 and their tempers were not sweetened by the con- 
 templation of defeat. 
 
 Yet the patience of the men who waited months, 
 and even years, to get an enemy into their clutches, 
 was not of the timbre to give way under early defeat 
 and discorfifiture. They went into squads and re- 
 connoitered, but without success. 
 
 Then two of them strayed from their red brothers, 
 and, entering into the depths of the brush, prodded 
 around there. " No white man yet," Wetzel heard 
 them complain. 
 
 These two becoming tired of their fruitless search 
 looked about them, and seeing an overturned tree, 
 went and threw themselves among its branches and 
 swung as in a hammock. 
 
 They could not hear the heart that throbbed 
 wildly under that tree. To be taken by these de- 
 praved Indians was the worst ignominy of all to the 
 hiding man. He dared not move a muscle, and yet 
 how he longed to plunge a knife into the base hearts 
 of the red-skins who lay directly above him, and 
 called him a coward for hiding, as ho plainly made 
 
FREE. 251 
 
 out as they talked on in their braggadocio manner. 
 At last the two Indians arose from their perch and 
 went on with the search. 
 
 Wetzel could hear them talking and cursing as 
 they prodded about in the bush. Then their voices 
 grew indistinct, more distant, and only the noise 
 their clubs made in beating the brush could be 
 heard. Then that died away, and all was quiet. 
 The squirrels leaped in and out among the branches 
 of the fallen tree, and that w^as all. 
 
 The danger for the present was over. 
 
 The day wore away and night came down, and 
 there was. no sound in the thicket which told of 
 man. 
 
 Not until the stars were many in the heaven did 
 Wetzel creep out from beneath the log, and stretch 
 his cramped limbs and stand upright. He went a 
 little way from the log and looked about him. The 
 moon silvered the trunks of the trees, and cut a 
 shining path whichever way he turned towards the 
 spaces where the trees were thinner than in the 
 place where he stood. But what should he do ? His 
 hands were yet confined by iron cuffs, and he knew 
 of no place on this side of the Ohio where he dared 
 apply for assistance. 
 
 He remembered that a man from Wheeling, one 
 Charley Madison, had lately put up a cabin on. the 
 
252 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 Virginia side of the Ohio. He determined that he 
 was the man who would assist him. But to cross 
 the river was the difficulty ! He could not make a 
 raft with bound and fettered hands. He could 
 scarcely trust himself to swim in his present disabled 
 condition. 
 
 He left the thicket, and directed his course to the 
 Ohio by a circuitous route, which, in time, brought 
 him to a lonely spot four miles below the fort. 
 
 Here a piece of good luck awaited him ; by the 
 light of the moon which made everything visible as 
 the sun, he could see that not far from the opposite 
 shore a man was fishing. 
 
 He looked anxiously at this man. At length he 
 recognized him as Isaac Wiseman, an inveterate 
 fisherman, whom he had often helped to mend nets. 
 
 Could he rely on this man? — might there not 
 already be a tempting reward for his apprehension, 
 which should make many a poor man see the scout 
 only as an escaped murderer, which justice, as repre- 
 sented by the law, plainly had a right to ? 
 
 But it was all or nothing to him, and he had 
 resolved never to be hanged. 
 
 Not daring to call to the fisherman and test his 
 allegiance, for he suspected his pursuers were every- 
 where around, particularly as now the Indians were 
 called in as officers of the law, he made a gentle 
 
FREE. 253 
 
 splashing in the water, then waved his hat with his 
 manacled hand, to attract the attention of the man. 
 
 The fisherman in his canoe appeared not at all 
 astonished, and this awakened the suspicions of 
 Wetzel. The canoe paddled over towards the shore, 
 its occupant lightly humming the refrain of a song. 
 In a few minutes the canoe touched land. 
 
 "I am fishing," said Wiseman sententiously, 
 without w^aiting to he accosted. 
 
 " Do you know who I am ?' asked Wetzel, bending 
 his eyes upon him. 
 
 The other shook his head. 
 
 " I am fishing," he repeated. 
 
 Wetzel hung back. 
 
 "Was it Peter, who called himself a fisher of 
 men ?" asked Wiseman, looking at him. " Get in ! 
 get in ! I heard of the escape of a man from the 
 fort, so I bethought me the night was fine for fish, 
 which the noise at the fort might drive down this 
 way for a little quiet nibble. So, says I, ' Isaac,' I 
 says, ' you'd better go a-fishing.' So I go a-fisliing. 
 Don't you see ? But I don't know you — never saw 
 you before. Get in !" 
 
 In another minute they Avere paddling silentl}^, 
 but very rapidly, over the Ohio in the moonlight. 
 
 " For," went on Wiseman, bending his eyes on the 
 
 line that flowed in the wake of the boat, " when a 
 
 22 
 
254 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 man goes a-fishing, there is no telling what he may 
 catch. Once I got a nibble, and it was a man-fish 
 escaped from the British, who doubtless wanted 
 him for supper. They came for him. Says I, M go 
 a-fishing, that is all I do.' So they cursed my 
 stupidity and went on. But at the same time, the 
 man-fish was in the bottom of my boat, covered over 
 with a blanket, which I always have with me in case 
 the fish should become cold. And, now, here we 
 go!" 
 
 So he talked with a nasal sadness, as he paddled 
 the canoe across the stream. 
 
 Once on the Virginia shore, "Wetzel had little to 
 fear, for his well-wishers were numerous there, and 
 would have shed their blood in his defense. 
 
 Wiseman let him go without a word, and Wetzel 
 could hear him singing as he hurried over the 
 ground, the fisherman spreading his nets without 
 the slightest trace of discomposure. 
 
 Wetzel succeeded in finding MadisDu's cabin which 
 he had helped to erect, and cautiously aroused the 
 friendly occupant. 
 
 " Not a word, Charley," he said, as his friend tum- 
 bled out of the cabin, rifle in hand, to ask the 
 meaning of this intrusion, " you see how I am loaded 
 down. All I want you to do, is to strike off my irons, 
 friend, and immediately." 
 
FREE. 255 
 
 These settlers, perhaps, had learned from the 
 Indian code of politeness that it is scarcely in good 
 form to ask unnecessary questions of a sudden guest, 
 and surely questions were unnecessary in this case. 
 
 So, hurrying into his cabin, Madison soon returned 
 with a hammer and a small anvil. 
 
 " On with your arms," he said, indicating a space 
 on the anvil, and stepping aside that the moon might 
 fully illuminate the delicate operation. A couple 
 of sharp, well-directed strokes, and — " Off with your 
 armdets," said Madison, concluding bis speech. 
 
 "And now, good-bye!" said Wetzel, seizing the 
 hand of his liberator. 
 
 " But you will stay over night," urged the other. 
 *' See, you are weak, even now." 
 
 " But it may bring you into danger." 
 
 " Cuss the danger ! Here you are, and here you 
 stay." 
 
 When he had eaten and felt refreshed, Wetzel 
 apprised his friend of the circumstances of his 
 case. 
 
 Then he laid him down to rest. In the early 
 morning he prepared for departure. 
 
 He had said farewell, when Madison called out to 
 him: 
 
 " But you haven't asked me why I've built this 
 cabin." 
 
256 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " I suppose it's because you wanted to do it. I 
 thought that from the first." 
 
 "Oh, no; that's not it. I'm going to be mar- 
 ried." 
 
 " I wish you happiness." 
 
 " But you haven't asked me who she is." 
 
 " I'm not very inquisitive." 
 
 " Then I'll tell you ; it's Berta Rosencranz. Such 
 a dance as she has led me ; such a dance as she's led 
 me these three years. I did think that she cared 
 for somebody else; but last week she told me all 
 men were cowards but me, and that she never saw 
 such a world for cowards. She even said you Avere 
 the biggest coward of all." 
 
 "All the same, I wish you and her happiness. 
 Good-bye!" 
 
 For Wetzel was in a hurry to get down the river 
 and on to Kentucky, where he should feel safe from 
 the grasp of General Harmar. 
 
 It was not, however, until years had elapsed, and 
 General Harmar had returned to Philadelphia, that 
 it was safe for Wiseman and Madison to avow their 
 assistance of Wetzel, such was the weakness of civil 
 authority and the absolute supremacy of military 
 rule on the frontier. 
 
 At a bend in the river Wetzel came, after a hur- 
 ried and cautious walk, upon Wiseman in his canoe. 
 
FREE. ^ 257 
 
 " I'm a-fishing," said he. "I thought it just possi- 
 ble the noise Madison and his hammer and anvil 
 made would drive the fish down this way for a 
 quiet nibble. So, says I, * Isaac,' says I, ' now's your 
 chance.' So here I am, and get in." 
 
 But the angler got out as the scout got in. 
 
 " It's an unlucky canoe," explained Wiseman, " for 
 the fish never stay hooked. I'll make you a present 
 of it ; it may bring you better luck ; besides, you've 
 a long journey to go, and the canoe wouldn't carry 
 two well. And here's a blanket and a rifle and 
 some fodder. I'm a-fishing — that's the reason I 
 happen to have so much about me. Catch ! here's 
 the fodder. There's the rifle and the blanket." 
 
 "Blankets are to warm your fish, I suppose?'* 
 smiled Wetzel. 
 
 " Precisely," answered the other ; " you and I have 
 no idea how cold the bottom of a boat is after 
 you've lived for years in the warm water. And now 
 hurry on. The brush opposite bloomed with eyes 
 all of last night." 
 
 Thanking his friend, Wetzel paddled on, and the 
 disciple of Walton, satisfied with his catch, strolled 
 on humming. 
 
 Subsequently to Wetzel's escape, General Harmar 
 removed his headquarters to Fort Washington, Cin- 
 cinnati. One of his first official acts in this new 
 
258 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 place was to issue a proclamation offering a consider-? 
 able reward for the arrest and delivery at the fort 
 of " the body of one Lewis Wetzel, an Indian scout, 
 well known to the frontier." 
 
 "Though I scarcely expect to get him; for I 
 doubt if there is a man daring enough to attempt 
 such a service," said the general, speaking to a com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Or base enough," was the rejoinder. 
 
 So the scout was free again, and only that poor 
 reward for his apprehension shadowed his path. 
 
THE EUNDBED DOLLARS REWARD, 259 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 
 
 A GAIN there is a silence of some time before we 
 hear of Lewis Wetzel in the company of other 
 men. His time was busied in the usual way of solitary 
 t vigil, and as he never boasted of his achievements, 
 nor, indeed, thought very much of them, it was only 
 after a long continuance of loneliness that he sought 
 out the habitations of men, when the incentive to 
 his vengeance seemed to grow less in the peaceful 
 habitudes of the forest and the close communion 
 with nature. 
 
 But a party of savages having, in the spring of 
 1787 (De Haas says 1786), crossed the Ohio at what 
 was called the Mingo Bottom, three miles below the 
 present Steubenville, and began their depredations, 
 the people took alarm. 
 
 The savages killed an entire family of whites, but 
 retreating immediately, for some unexplained cause, 
 they effected their escape with impunity. 
 
 This inroad took the settlers by surprise, the Indians 
 not having crossed the Ohio in that neighborhood 
 for the previous eighteen months. 
 
260 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The people were in a wholly unprotected state, 
 and filled with the direst apprehension. 
 
 A subscription was immediately drawn up, headed 
 by those in the easiest circumstances, for the main 
 purpose of stimulating the young and active to 
 habits of vigilance, which pledged a reward of a 
 hundred dollars to the scout who would first bring 
 in an Indian scalp. 
 
 This ofiPering of a reward for scalps proves how 
 futile had been the efforts of General Harmar to 
 impress his ideas upon the settlers thus liable to 
 outrageous attacks from the Indians. 
 
 It seemed that the young men had only waited 
 for a stimulus, and now this reward was the needed 
 stimulus, though the desire to wreak vengeance on 
 the foe was the main-spring. And whatever the 
 pacific intentions of the general may have engrafted 
 into some minds, those intentions were nothing, 
 alongside of what the settlers had to excite them in 
 a contrary direction. 
 
 For two or three days after the attack, some rela- 
 tives of the family massacred came into the settle- 
 ment, calling aloud for help in their hour of trial. 
 
 There were tales of misery told by these survivors 
 of the massacre that made strong men weak as they 
 were related. Those who listened grew strong in 
 wrath as they heard, and made their vows of venge- 
 
TBE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 261 
 
 ance before the recital of the outrages were finished 
 by the narrators. 
 
 They looked at one another, and they looked at 
 the horror-stricken faces of the few people remain- 
 ing of a flourishing little settlement, who had come 
 to them with their , wrongs, telling for prompt 
 sympathy the story of what they had undergone. 
 
 "We will aid you," was said to them. 
 
 "Aid us to get our revenge," was the speedy 
 rejoinder. 
 
 " What is peace to these red-skins ?" they asked. 
 "It is only that the whites lay down their arms and 
 submit to murders like this. Did it take the army 
 of us white men to drive the settlers back to the first 
 principles of the forest — that is, to own to the rights 
 of the Indians to our lands and stock? Must we 
 calmly sit down here like so many whipped children, 
 and say that this family deserved the treatment they 
 received, and that they were carrying out the spirit 
 of the law in receiving murder at the hands of the 
 savages ; while, had they turned on the savages and 
 killed therrif they would have been guilty of a 
 flagrant breach of the code set down by General 
 Harmar, and folks of his stamp. Who will avenge 
 this murdered family, and show the white soldier 
 how little he knows of Indian warfare?" 
 
 Fifty voices declared that fifty men were then and 
 
262 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 there willing and anxious to take "up arms and 
 vindicate their rights, and that their number would 
 increase hourly. 
 
 But this enthusiasm meant only killing without 
 mercy, and that was not what the older and cooler- 
 headed had intended. The reward should stand as it 
 had at first been fixed, but some order must be main- 
 tained and some show of discipline organize the 
 company that might be deputed to go in search of 
 the depredators. 
 
 It was a long time before the feverish settlers 
 could see in this determination to maintain order 
 anything else than an upholding of the army code 
 of peace. But it gradually settled down into some 
 show of authority on the part of the projectors of 
 the expedition, from whose pockets the reward was 
 to come, — though it would be ungenerous to hint 
 that the money alone actuated any one of the poorer 
 settlers to undertake an expedition that promised 
 death to more than one of their number. 
 
 Our friend, Major McMahan, was then deputed to 
 raise a company of twenty men only. In a half- 
 hour his ranks were filled, and a host of disappointed 
 ones were clamorous to have the number increased, 
 volunteering not to touch the hundred dollars 
 should any of them be so fortunate as to earn it. 
 But Major McMahan was inflexible, and refused to 
 
THE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD, 263 
 
 add one more man to his ranks, well knowing the 
 trouble of many such reckless men, to whom subor- 
 dination meant nothing, when they once sighted the 
 enemy. 
 
 The day at last came when the little party were 
 to set out on the search, and a crowd of settlers, 
 their wives and children, were collected in the early 
 morning to see them off. 
 
 When the men were drawn up in line, twenty-one 
 men were counted. 
 
 "How is this?" inquired the major. 
 
 " Wrong count," shouted a by-stander. 
 
 " Right count," shouted another. 
 
 The men were told off again, and it was twenty- 
 one. 
 
 " It's Xancy, whose sweetheart is going, and she*s 
 dressed herself to follow him," cried a woman. 
 
 Nancy, a blushing woman with her apron to her 
 eyes, stepped forward and disavowed any such inten- 
 tion, though her sweetheart was going, and as brave 
 a man as any man there dare be, let any man, or 
 woman either, contradict her to their peril. 
 
 " It's dirty Dick," cried another one of the 
 loungers. 
 
 A man, covered with dust, here strode out from 
 the ranks. 
 
 " I could come no faster than I did," he said; " let 
 me go." 
 
264 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " You look as though you sadly stood in want of 
 a hundred dollars," returned Major McMahan, fail- 
 ing to recognize the unkempt, wild-looking, long- 
 haired man. 
 
 The stranger only glared at him, going back to 
 the ranks. 
 
 " Not so fast, my friend," said the major, " not so 
 fast." 
 
 " Let him go," shouted half a dozen voices. 
 
 " Don't let him go," screamed a female voice. 
 
 "Let him go," screamed another female voice, 
 Nancy's. 
 
 " He makes more than twenty," answered the first 
 female voice, spitefully. 
 
 "Mind your business, and don't attempt arith- 
 metic, Mrs. Madison," cried Nancy; "and don't go 
 to saying a second time that I'd dress up like a man 
 and follow my sweetheart." 
 
 " You would — you know you would." 
 
 " I wou]d, if I was like you, that followed one man 
 I know, till he had to clear out." 
 
 " Hurrah for Nancy !" shouted some. 
 
 " Hurrah for Berta Madison," shouted others. 
 
 In the midst of this distraction. Major McMahan 
 turned to the stranger. 
 
 " Who are you ?" he asked. 
 
 " I am Lewis Wetzel, Major McMahan," was the 
 reply. 
 
THE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 265 
 
 "The company is twenty-one!" cried the major, 
 in a voice that silenced belligerent man and woman. 
 
 " That's not fair," cried a man who had not been 
 accepted in the ranks. " Why should a stranger have 
 the preference over us?" 
 
 "A stranger!" sneered Nancy; "where's your 
 eyes, Bob Thomas ? That is Lewis Wetzel ; I knew 
 him from the first. So did Mrs. Madison — that's 
 why she said he had no right to go." 
 
 " Why, I thought they were sweethearts once ?" 
 
 " Booby ! she hates him. W^hat do you know 
 about sweethearts? She couldn't get him ! That's 
 what !" 
 
 " Forward !'^ cried the major, giving the word of 
 command, and the little party tramped off, cheered 
 out of the settlement by their friends. 
 
 On the perilous expedition the little company set 
 out forthwith, and soon crossing the Ohio, discovered 
 an Indian trail, which they followed till they came 
 to the Muskingum River. 
 
 Advance guards were sent out, who proceeded 
 cautiously to inspect the locality. 
 
 They had not gone far before they discovered a 
 
 party of Indians around a newly-set-up lodge, on 
 
 the bank of the river, and far superior in numbers 
 
 to the advancing white men. 
 
 Hurriedly retracing their steps, the guard reported 
 23 
 
266 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 to Major McMahan the condition of affairs, and he, 
 thoughtful of the safety of his party, retreated to 
 the top of a hill, where they might consult as to 
 future operations. 
 
 " But the Indians have not discovered us," said a 
 voice from the ranks. 
 
 " But there is a chance of their doing so at any 
 minute," said the major. 
 
 He then entered into conference with the more 
 experienced men. 
 
 The conclusion of the conference was that a hasty 
 retreat was all that was left the white party. 
 
 There was grumbling from the youngest and most 
 ambitious of the little troop ; for, besides the glory 
 attached to the successful operations of the com- 
 mand, the reward of a hundred dollars was not to 
 be despised, even by a brave man, as a hundred 
 dollars went a little further in those days of necessi- 
 ties without luxuries.' ^ 
 
 "I want the first scalp," said a young, stalwart 
 fellow, " for I mean to be married in the fall." 
 
 " You may have your own scalp off by that time," 
 replied a companion. 
 
 " But I mean to try to keep it on, and try how an 
 Injun feels without one. And even if it goes, Nancy 
 will know I tried for the money we want for house- 
 keeping things." 
 
THE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 267 
 
 "While the party were in close confab as to whether 
 prudence consisted in going or staying, Lewis Wetzel 
 carelessly sat upon a mossy logj his gun laid across 
 his lap, his tomahawk in his hand. He paid no 
 attention whatever to the council ; he had not come 
 to talk. 
 
 " They will send us home again," said a man to 
 him. 
 
 "W^ill they?" he asked, and turned his back on 
 his informant. 
 
 As soon as the resolution to retreat was adopted, 
 the party set about obeying the command. 
 
 All except Lewis Wetzel. He still sat upon 
 the mossy log, his gun in his lap, his tomahawk in 
 his hand. 
 
 His companions called to him, and he paid no 
 attention to them. 
 
 The party set out, and had gone a few yards, when 
 Major McMahan, thinking the man asleep, came 
 back himself, and ordered him to go along with the 
 rest. 
 
 Lewis Wetzel turned his face up to the major, 
 without arising from the log. 
 
 " I shall stay for what I came," he answered 
 quietly. "Go, major; you take back the twenty 
 men you had before I interloped." 
 
 Arguments were unavailing ; he was said to be so 
 
268 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 stubborn in the one idea of his life that he never 
 submitted to any control or advice which threatened 
 to thwart him. 
 
 And as military discipline dealt not with men of 
 his stamp, Major McMahan and his party were com- 
 pelled to leave him, a solitary being, in the midst of 
 the thick forest, surrounded by vigilant enenlies ever 
 on the alert. 
 
 As soon as he was assured the men had left him, 
 and he no longer heard the snapping of twigs as 
 they crushed the sapplings to the ground, he arose 
 picked up his gun, and struck off into another part 
 of the country, looking about him. He kept moving 
 along , swiftly through the underbrush, but aloof 
 from the larger streams, where he could see great 
 parties of the Indians encamped, and he gritted his 
 teeth as he saw them rollicking and at ease. 
 
 He prowled through the woods with a noiseless 
 tread, and the eye of the eagle; he traversed the 
 ground all that day and the next, when towards 
 evening he discovered smoke curling up from 
 among the bushes. 
 
 He crept softly forward in this direction, nearer 
 and nearer still, till he came full upon the fire, and 
 found two blankets and a small cox^per camping 
 kettle. 
 
 This was then the camp of but two Indians' 
 
 He exulted at the thought. 
 
TBE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 269 
 
 He concealed himself in the thick brush, but in 
 such a position that he could readily see the number, 
 and watch the movements of the campers. 
 
 Pretty soon one of the Indians came in and stirred 
 up the fire, and brought forth a huge piece of 
 venison, and, stripping the tough hide away from 
 the flesh, began roasting it. Then, while he was 
 attending to this culinary business, the other Indian 
 came in with a grunt of satisfaction, as he sniffed 
 the ascending fumes of the deer-flesh in the glowing 
 fire. 
 
 Two bright eyes among the bushes were looking 
 intently on, but the chiefs noticed them not. 
 
 Perfectly assured of their safety and freedom from 
 intrusion, they began ravenously on their supper, 
 eating with a gusto that was tantalizing to the white 
 scout in the bushes, who was almost famishing. 
 
 Then, supper finished, the Indians began crooning 
 songs, drinking from flasks the " fire-water " of the 
 whites, and telling comic stories, bursting into peals 
 of hearty laughter. 
 
 Nearer and yet nearer crept the white man in the 
 bushes; nearer and nearer he came, noiseless, but 
 with the fullest of intents, nearer yet to the now 
 waning fire, till he was close enough to have touched 
 one of the men, and could easily have snatched the 
 meat from the fire, of which the Indians had now 
 
270 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 enough, and were allowing the remainder to burn 
 to a cinder. 
 
 The wolves around, attracted by the scent, were 
 howling, and birds of prey fluttering in the 
 branches. 
 
 The liquor they had taken seemed to make the 
 savages fiercer, for they dropped from their mirth- 
 fulness and songs, and began a low war-song, 
 speaking of vengeance on the whites, and torture to 
 the first scout they would get into their clutches. 
 
 Grasping his weapons, Wetzel looked on, and saw 
 and heard all. Yet he bided his time. 
 
 About ten o'clock one of the Indians, throwing a 
 heap of wood on the fire in order to keep it bright, 
 and prevent an inroad of the wolves, wrapped his 
 blanket around him, shouldered his rifle, and taking 
 a chunk of fire in his hand, left the camp, doubtless 
 with the intention of going to watch a deer lick — 
 the fire and smoke of the torch in his hand to keep 
 off the gnats and mosquitoes. 
 
 This absence of one of the Indians was a severe 
 vexation to the watching white man, who now went 
 back a little way, but who still hoped that the absent 
 red-skin might return to camp ere day. 
 
 In this he was forced to bear a disappointment. 
 
 Night waned, and chirping birds proclaimed the 
 approach of day, but the Indian had not returned. 
 
THE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 271 
 
 Cursing his luck, Wetzel went on to the camp-fire, 
 chopping at a wolf who attacked him. 
 
 He found the remaining Indian fast asleep, lying 
 on his side and snoring loudly. Wetzel drew forth 
 his formidable knife, and, nerving his arm, sent it 
 with all his force through the unconscious savage's 
 heart. 
 
 There was a short quiver, a convulsive move- 
 ment, then all was still, and life had sped through 
 the forest thickness, past the prowling animals, past 
 the singing birds, up to the Maker of life to be 
 judged and awarded according to its earthly useful- 
 ness. 
 
 Wetzel looked down on the still, bronzed face, 
 upon the brawny limbs and tough muscles, and 
 wondered why so much superb strength had been 
 given a creature who used it in slothfulness and 
 pleasure. 
 
 He grasped a little of the charred remains of the 
 venison on the fire with which he satisfied the pangs 
 of growing hunger. He then scalped the dead 
 Indian and slung the gory braid of hair to his belt. 
 Stamping out the remains of the fire, he strode 
 along, apostrophizing the lurking wolves as he went. 
 
 "Go," he said, "your meal awaits you," and 
 pointed towards the extinct camp-fire and the pros- 
 trate body of the dead brave. 
 
272 ^ LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 He strode through the forest, he walked day and 
 night without food, and reached the Mingo Bottom 
 only one day after his unsuccessful companions. 
 
 " What luck ?" they asked him. 
 
 " I want Major McMahan," was his response. 
 
 " But what luck ?" 
 
 " Where is Major McMahan ?" 
 
 " At least tell us your luck." 
 
 " I have had no luck. And now where is Major 
 McMahan?" 
 
 "He is not here. W^hat is your hurry, man? 
 Why can't you rest here with us and tell us all that 
 happened you after we left you ?" 
 
 " I want Major McMahan. I have no time to rest. 
 I must away again as soon as I have seen him." 
 
 He went from them, and paced up and down on a 
 long slender piece of sward. For hours he waited 
 to see the major. He was not impatient, and time 
 was of little account to him when he had to put up 
 wdth delay of this kind. For he meant to see the 
 major, and the major alone, as he owed him some 
 sort of excuse for refusing to obey his orders in the 
 w^oods and marching along home with the other 
 men. 
 
 The major was seen approaching. Wetzel went 
 forward to him, throwing the scalp of the Indian 
 upon the ground before him. 
 
THE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 273 
 
 " You have earned the reward," said Major 
 McMahan. 
 
 " What reward ? I want no reward of money. 
 My reward w^as in getting this." 
 
 " But, man, you will surely claim the hundred 
 dollars?" 
 
 " What good will it do me ?" 
 
 " It will replenish your store of necessities. Your 
 clothes are ragged, your gun is broken, your blanket 
 torn — surely you think of your comfort ?" 
 
 " Comfort ! Am I a Judas ? Do I accept blood- 
 money?" 
 
 The men who heard him turned aw^ay, some of 
 them smiling at the crazy scout, as they called him. 
 
 And this was the man who had been accused of 
 murder ! 
 
 "I only wish the chance was mine," grumbled 
 one of them. 
 
 " What would j^ou do w^ith the mone}'' ?" asked 
 Wetzel, quick as a flash, turning to him. 
 
 " Fm going to be married soon, and I'd buy 
 housekeeping things for Nancy." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 Wetzel turned away gruffly, and went and sat 
 down upon the ground. 
 
 That evening, when the men were disporting 
 themselves, he presented himself to Major McMahan. 
 
 " Well, Wetzel ?" began the major. 
 
274 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 • 
 
 "I have come to claim the hundred dollars/^ 
 returned the scout. 
 
 " I thought you'd regret that nonsense of yours," 
 smiled the major. "And you are perfectly right in 
 claiming it. You earned it, and men wealthy 
 enough to give it are the originators of the reward, 
 and a poor man like you has every right to come 
 forward and claim it. I am glad you've got over 
 the notion of blood-money. It is rather late in the 
 day for you to become squeamish, Wetzel." 
 
 " Yes, it is rather late in the day," mused Wetzel. 
 
 In th6 month of June, there was a simple wedding 
 in the Bottom. When the bride had been kissed, 
 and stood, all blushes, among the dames and damsels, 
 a boy ran in, and went up to her. 
 
 " Get out," cried an indignant wife ; " where's 
 your manners, dirty Dick? — going up to a lass in 
 white with those filthy paws of yours." 
 
 " It's something for her," demurred dirty Dick to 
 this treatment. 
 
 " It's some ugly thing you've caught in the woods 
 for a present for her, I'll be bound. But get away, 
 do, you and your present. W^hat will she want of 
 it, alongside of the beautiful chain Major McMahan 
 sent her?" 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Madison, let him come to me. Indeed, 
 Dick, I'm thankful for your offering, whatever it is," 
 said the bride. 
 
THE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. 275 
 
 "It taint mine," he said sulkily, "and she 
 wouldn't give me time to say so. It was given to 
 me by a long-haired man, who made for the woods. 
 He said I wasn't to give it into any hands but 
 yours." 
 
 " Don't take it," screamed the wife, who had 
 hitherto kept the boy off; " it's some poison Indian 
 thing that your old jilted lover sends you." 
 
 " I never had a jilted lover, Mrs. Madison," began 
 the bride. 
 
 " Oh, la ! didn't you ? Why I had twenty ; there 
 was Lewis Wetzel, and " 
 
 But she was interrupted by a cry of surprise from 
 the rosy bride, who had taken from the boy a scrap 
 of crumpled paper, upon which was written, in rude, 
 uncouth characters : " For Nancy, to buy house- 
 keeping things with." While inside was a hundred 
 dollars sewed up in a leaf. 
 
 Who the donor was no one knew, and as Dick's 
 description of the man varied with the importance 
 that now attached itself to him, they were not able 
 to ascribe it to any one in particular, although the 
 popularly-accepted opinion was, that the President 
 had sent it, and did not desire it to be generally 
 known. 
 
 But Nancy's bridegroom had another idea, which 
 he did not make generally known. 
 
276 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TURKEY-CRY. 
 
 A BOUT this time, Wetzel made one of his periodi- 
 cal visits to Wheeling ; and after vainly trying 
 to discover the whereabouts of his brothers, who 
 had moved further West, he went to his sisters, who 
 w^ere yet in the fort, and remained for a short time 
 with them. 
 
 " This day I am ninety years of age," writes old 
 Eberly in the last pages of his manuscript, " and as 
 I was moving from the fort, richly pleased that the 
 mercy of God had lett me remain here while so 
 manny of the younger have gone before me, a man 
 came upp to me and helped me down a hill. For I 
 bee proper feeble now, though hoping to bee strong 
 again by next Spring, as the cool air never goes well 
 with the rheumatiz. The man was Lowis Wetzel, 
 the Sonne of John that was killed by injuns years 
 ago. Lowis is a quiet man, and when I blessed him 
 for helping of me hee said hee might bee olde him- 
 self some day, and hoped a younger man might bee 
 by to help him. Hee is properly wrong in calling 
 
THE TURKEY-CRY. 277 
 
 me olde. I bee as young as the youngest. But hee 
 is well-intentioned, though ferce to look upon, and 
 not overly careful of his manners inne calling of 
 peple olde." 
 
 Wetzel was well received by the people during 
 this visit, and he might have had a merry enough 
 time, had he been so minded. For his assistance in 
 time of need was not soon to be forgotten, and just 
 now men like himself were rather scarce in the set- 
 tlements, a more studious set having taken their 
 place. Men other than mere plodders and diggers 
 and delvers were coming to the land of promise, 
 white-faced men from desks, sickly men from hos- 
 pitals, worn-out men from the shambles of pleasure 
 where dissipation calls itself enjoyment, and is not 
 disowned until the body and brain fail of their 
 best functions, and life itself palls upon life viti- 
 ated. 
 
 Then the more cultivated and wealthier classes in 
 
 the Eastern States had itching palms to possess in 
 
 fee-simple the wild rolling lands of the West. These 
 
 latter sent colonists from the work -shop and loom, 
 
 and claimed the land thus settled on by their 
 
 employees, which the employees were at liberty 
 
 w^ithin a stated time of forsaking for land of their 
 
 own, when they could keep themselves without 
 
 calling upon the resources of the wealthier men. 
 24 
 
278 i LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Mechanical industries were springing up, too, and in 
 some of the older settlements the little work-shop 
 and the single loom made humming music in the 
 air that had never before been broken by the peace- 
 ful sound. 
 
 To work land was not the only thing thought of; 
 there were men here who did not possess physical 
 strength enough to do that. There was a report in 
 Wheeling that a dress-maker was coming out with 
 her husband, and women were wondering if the 
 fashions had changed within the last five years, and 
 if they would be ashamed of themselves after the 
 arrival of the dress-maker. The changes and 
 thicker settlements drove the Indian further away, 
 but made him more revengeful and crafty. This 
 was the state of affairs when it was told that Lewis 
 Wetzel had come to see his sisters and people. 
 Strangers had him pointed out to them. 
 
 In this visit to his sisters, Wetzel did not mention 
 his mother's name, and it was only on the eve of 
 his departure that one of his sisters dared say, 
 timidly : 
 
 " I am sorry mother is not here to see you. Surely 
 you know she was never strong after father's death, 
 and we had quite a time to get her over her nervous 
 spells. She often speaks of you and the other boys, 
 but she thinks it rather hard she should be left 
 
THE TURKET'CItT, ^79 
 
 alone without a son in her old days. She needs 
 some one to console her " 
 
 " She has some one now, I have heard," he inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 "She has gone up the river for a spell, to 
 visit " 
 
 " Her husband's people. Yes, I understand," he 
 interrupted again. " But I did not come to see her; 
 she is nothing to me — I have no mother. She forgot 
 my father, and has a new husband now." ~^ 
 
 For John Wetzel's widow had married. 
 
 "She was lonely." 
 
 " Had she not her children ?" 
 
 " She had grown weak and querulous." 
 
 "And married her husband in consideration of 
 her weakness and querulousness ? Let it be so. My 
 mother was a strong woman who helped to make a 
 home for her children in the wilderness. She died 
 with my father. She is better without me — she has 
 a husband to take care of her. I could never like her 
 husband, so I will not wait to see him. Good-bye, 
 my sisters !" 
 
 " But, indeed, he is not a foolish man. He is even 
 now trying to find out the cause of the turkey-call, 
 and has left mother with his family while he is 
 away." 
 
 " Turkey-call?"' 
 
280 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " You know what I mean ; the call that anno3^s 
 us so just now." 
 
 " Good-bye !" was alt the brother said. 
 
 But he went about the place inquiring into the 
 nature of any disturbances in and around Wheeling. 
 He also found out that his mother's husband was a 
 sensible, practical man. 
 
 " Then why did he marry my mother ?" he ques- 
 tioned himself. 
 
 He was glad that good reports had been left 
 behind them by his brothers, for he took an interest 
 in all the affairs of his family, though his line of 
 action and self-ostracism from them and their appa- 
 rent interest might seem to prove a denial of the 
 fact. But was not the ridding of the country of a 
 pest taking the interest of his family into consider- 
 ation ? 
 
 Now this fatal decoy of the turkey-call had for a 
 long time proved disastrous to the frontier. 
 
 The painful cry of birds in distress had flown 
 through the air, and the most superstitious of the 
 people thought it a harbinger of some evil about to 
 befall the land so lately rebellious against the king, 
 and shuddered as they listened. But the more 
 practical souls had determined to bring the mystery 
 to earth, and on several occasions men from the 
 fort at Wheeling had gpne across the hills in their 
 
 / 
 
THE TURKEY-CRY. 281 
 
 quest, and on more than one occasion the men had 
 never returned. 
 
 When Wetzel's sister told him that his mother's 
 husband had determined to try to solve the mystery, 
 he, too, undertook to get at the bottom of the myste- 
 rious cries. For these cries would come up from 
 the earth; down from the cloudless sky; in the 
 midst of gatherings of people ; when wives alone in 
 their homes attended to their household duties ; at 
 night when half the place slept. At all times, in all 
 places the cries were heard ; now far off, now near at 
 hand, wailing and distressing in the extreme. 
 Prognostications of all manner of evil were not 
 wanting among the people, and the very failure 
 of some of the investigating men to come back 
 again argued in the nervous minds the supernatural 
 quality of the gruesome sounds. 
 
 A young wife deposed that at noon, when rock- 
 ing her sickly babe in its cradle, suddenly from the 
 cradle came the sad bird's cry of grief. That night 
 the child died. 
 
 An old woman, long bedridden, awoke in the night, 
 and in the far-off hill saw a fitful "death light," as 
 she termed it, from which the distressing cry floated 
 over to her with dreadful warning. When she had 
 power to call some one to her bedside, the light had 
 disappeared and the usual darkness of the hills at 
 
282 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 midnight reigned in its stead, while no longer came 
 the cry of the bird in trouble. 
 
 Every one heard the cry, and Wetzel had fifty, 
 stories told him in as many minutes, and all tend- 
 ing to the supernatural. Some of the younger 
 women grew hysterical in their recitals, and asked 
 him what he knew about witchcraft. 
 
 So the scout spent day after day making inquiries 
 about the mysterious cry, and listening with all 
 avidity to the many stories concerning it. Not that 
 he doubted he knew the full meaning of the sad 
 cries, but a higher principle than mere curiosity 
 prompted him. 
 
 With long strides he left the fort, and sought the 
 hills one day in the midst of the narration of a new 
 story. Night came down upon him, and he sought 
 a tree, climbed it, and in a crotch of it passed the 
 night. 
 
 All night long, at intervals, came the plaintive 
 cries ; now far off and faint, again at his very feet, 
 all about him. 
 
 He even heard the brush beneath him agitated as 
 though by the passage of some mysterious agent. 
 
 The cries, too, seemed to hush the snarling 
 hunger-moans of the wolf and coyote, and, borne 
 upon the wind, it alone reached his ears insufferably 
 sad and gruesome. Then would come the soft 
 
TBE TURKEY-CRY. 283 
 
 rustling of the bushes beneath him, and, though he 
 strained his eyes and peered down around him, he 
 could make out nothing. At last the moon came 
 out and silvered a track across the brush. Through 
 this track, which he watched with keen scrutii^y, 
 once in the heart of the night he saw a dark body 
 of many links, or a chain of bodies, pass noiselessly 
 up towards the crest of the hill before him, the cries 
 seeming to float about the path of silver, and down 
 to the habitations of the pioneers at Wheeling. 
 Turning his eyes towards the white settlement, he 
 could see lights moving about in the houses, as the 
 worried people, unable to sleep, wandered here and 
 there seeking an answer to the cries. 
 
 " I am glad my mother's husband is more practi- 
 cal," he said. 
 
 At the first break of day the sounds had ceased, 
 and he descended from his perch and reconnoitered 
 the brush beneath. Yes, the place was trodden here 
 and there. He got down on his knees and exam- 
 ined the crushed grass. 
 
 " It is as I suspected," he said. 
 
 He followed these marks in the wounded brush, 
 and they took him high above the level. He 
 mounted to at least sixty feet above the w^ater on 
 the east side of Creek Hill, and there the marks 
 ended. Here he found the moutlx of a capacious 
 
284 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 cavern, running he knew not how far underground, 
 the entrance ahnost completely obscured by a heavy 
 growth of vines and foliage. 
 
 In the very heart of this wild growth he ensconced 
 himself, pulling the leaves all about liim, and en- 
 tirely burying himself, and here he waited. 
 
 He waited all the morning and ascertained 
 nothing. Once he thought the vines were shaken 
 as though somebody or something issued from the 
 cavern's mouth, but he was hidden and could see 
 little that was beneath a man's stature that might 
 go from or into the cave. And there was no sound. 
 
 All the afternoon he waited there, with his old 
 tireless vigilance, which was never exerted but for 
 the one reason — to hunt his hated foes. Late in the 
 afternoon a high, shrill turke3^-cry cleaved the 
 silence, then another, and another, till it seemed 
 that a whole brood of birds were in the direst agony. 
 
 The cries came from the cavern! Cautiously 
 raising his body until his head was on a line with 
 the tallest grass, and he could see about him, he 
 looked towards the cavern. But all was motionless 
 there, the heavy bushes before the entrance were 
 moveless in the stilly air. Still he kept his eyes 
 fixed on the spot, assured that he had not fixed on 
 that place in vain. 
 
 He was rewarded for his patience. 
 
THE TURKEY-CRY. 285 
 
 Presently the tangled vines at the mouth of the 
 cave were agitated a little. What was coming 
 forth — a gruesome object to strike terror to the heart 
 of the human watcher ? 
 
 " I never feared live devils ; I never intend to fear 
 dead ones," said this watcher, who watched and 
 waited. 
 
 The vines became still again. Then they were 
 agitated once more, and from amidst their green 
 leaves reached forth a human hand. 
 
 " Not a dead devil," commented the faithful 
 watcher. 
 
 Directly after the hand had appeared and thrust 
 aside the many vines, another sort of flower took 
 its place, for the twisted tuft of an Indian warrior 
 slowly arose in the mouth of the cavern, and below 
 that a villainous face daubed with war-paint looked 
 cautiously about, to right and left. Then, twisting 
 his mouth into a long horn-like shape, the red-skin 
 sent forth the shrill, prolonged, and peculiarly 
 distressing, moaning cry, and immediately after- 
 wards disappeared, as though he had indeed been 
 endowed with spiritual power to appear and dis- 
 appear instantaneously. 
 
 " No, not a dead devil," said the watcher, almost 
 positive that in that cavern he had detected, in the 
 momentary glance he had had of it, the dead body 
 
286 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 of a white settler — doubtless one of those who had 
 recently come here to investigate the nature of the 
 supernatural phenomenon. 
 
 This, then, alone, was the lure which had proved 
 so fatal to those who had come to ascertain its 
 import. From that point so elevated the concealed 
 savage had long commanded an extensive view of 
 the surrounding country, and more especially of the 
 hill-front upon the opposite side, and the incautious 
 soldier or embarrassed settler coming straight down 
 towards the river, looking out first one way then 
 the other for the struggling bird, quickly met his 
 death. 
 
 Lewis "Wetzel had suspected the truth, his long 
 and intimate study and hatred had inducted him 
 into many secrets not well known by the m^ore 
 peaceful and kindly-intentioned people around. 
 He recollected the wolf-cries around his father's 
 cabin years ago — he recollected the bear in the 
 bushes beside his father's cabin ! 
 
 Even now, after the Indian's head had disappeared, 
 Wetzel looked towards the side country, and saw a 
 little party of three or four white men coming on 
 gazing into the bushes and searching. 
 
 The silence, around his height from the level, 
 enabled him to hear almost every T^ord the men on 
 the opposite declivity said. 
 
THE TURKEY-CBT. 287 
 
 " It was around here," said one. 
 
 " Do you think it was a bird, or a spirit ?" asked 
 another. 
 
 "No doubt of it," responded the first speat:er, 
 *' that it is a spirit." 
 
 " That must be my mother's husband," said Lewis 
 Wetzel grimly. "My father would never have 
 spoken thus." 
 
 " But if I had thought it was a spirit I would not 
 have come after it with a rifle," said the third of the 
 little party, speaking now for the first time, — " nor 
 had I thought it was a turkey, either. My son is not 
 an Indian murderer, but this is an Indian ruse!" 
 
 " Your son ! You mean Lewis Wetzel ?" inquired 
 one of them. 
 
 " Yes, my son. Did I not marry John Wetzel's 
 widow — their mother?" 
 
 AVetzel turned his attention towards the mouth of 
 the cavern determinedly, his gun cocked, anxiously 
 waiting. 
 
 He had not long to wait. 
 
 Up rose from the tangled mass of pretty vines the 
 barrel of a gun, then the tufted head of the red-skin. 
 And then again, and for the last time, the sad note 
 thath^d created such consternation sounded through 
 the air — for the last time, for, unseen and taking a 
 fine aim at the polished head, Wetzel had raised his 
 rifle to his shoulder. 
 
288 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 There was a sharp, quick report, as the Indian 
 raised his own gun at the three men below, a curl 
 of pale smoke, and the turkey-cry was silenced 
 forever. 
 
 " A dead devil," said Wetzel, as the strained vines 
 sprang back over the form that fell in their midst. 
 
 Standing upright, and looking down towards the 
 opposite hills, he saw the hurrying forms of the 
 three men coming his way. 
 
 " It was a rifle-shot," said the foremost of the 
 three, " and it surely means something." 
 
 "Might it not be a decoy to get us up there?" 
 asked the more prudential one, pausing for a 
 second — the man who claimed the scout for a son. 
 
 Then all three paused. 
 
 " Even if it is, though," went on the last speaker, 
 " we might as well look into it. Have we all got our 
 knives? Had you taken my advice when we started 
 out you would have brought your rifles. But, no, 
 you were all so positive that the whole proceeding 
 was supernatural." 
 
 " We have not found out yet what it is," answered 
 one of the two. 
 
 " Only worldly powder makes the blue ring we 
 saw up yonder. Decoy or no decoy, come on, if you 
 are not afraid I" 
 
 They then plunged forward. 
 
THE TURKEY-CRY, 289 
 
 "He is no coward," muttered the man on the 
 opposite hill, standing out from the furze, and delib- 
 erating what he should do next. 
 
 He turned and rapidly beat down the vines that 
 choked the entrance to the cave, so that the body of 
 the slain Indian was exposed to full view. And 
 what his slight glimpse into the cave in the first 
 instance had suggested to him was verified — for the 
 body of a settler lay a yard from that of the Indian. 
 
 " They will understand," said Wetzel, looking 
 vindictively on the fallen red-skin. 
 
 He turned his ej^es upon the approaching white 
 men. Again he hesitated, went a little way, then 
 returned. 
 
 " Can I, or can I not ?" he asked himself. 
 
 He could see the husband of John Wetzel's widow 
 breaking his way through the obstructing stubble, 
 a manly looking man, the only wonder being what 
 he had seen to admire in the weak and peevish 
 wife. 
 
 "Never mind," communed the scout with him- 
 self. " I do not know him — I cannot know him. 
 He may not be a coward, but he cannot take the 
 place of my father — with me. But my mother 
 shall not be a widow at the hands of the red-skins 
 a second time. Poor mother!" 
 
 Grasping his rifle, and casting an envious glance 
 25 
 
290 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 towards the yet intact scalp of the originator of the 
 turkey-cries, he plunged through the long grass, 
 seeking a place in which to hide from the approach- 
 ing strangers, more especially the one man ; and 
 at last, when their voices came nearer to him, he 
 hid in the grass, and saw three men laboriously 
 mounting the hill to the cavern. 
 
 He saw them start when they saw the Indian. 
 
 " This explains it all," he heard one of them say. 
 
 " But who fired the shot ?" asked the second man. 
 
 The third man was busily turning over the dead 
 Indian. He now raised something aloft in the air, 
 between his thumb and finger. 
 
 " Here is one of Lewis Wetzel's bullets," he said. 
 " It went straight through the red-skin's head." 
 
 Wetzel, hearing this, struck off, and made his way 
 out without discovery. He had saved the life of his 
 mother's husband, as he had tried to do. More than 
 that he had not intended. Yet in saving the life of 
 the second husband he had once more avenged the 
 death of the first. This idea crossed his mind as he 
 hurried away. 
 
 " How strange that chance should make me the 
 instrument in this instance," he said. " Why should 
 I not let the men who murdered my father keep his 
 place sacred by removing the usurper of it ? Why 
 should I strive to help my mother to forget her loss, 
 
THE TURKEY-CRY. 291 
 
 and every day see in the new husband traits of 
 excellence the dead one never possessed? It must 
 be because my father loved my mother and toiled 
 for her happiness — he would not like her to be 
 distressed and dreary. Ah, well! let her be happy 
 with her husband — if she can. As for me — I have 
 my duty to perform, and I must be a stranger to all 
 else." 
 
 It is said that he never saw his mother's second 
 husband after that. 
 
292 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 A CHANCE FOR AN ARREST. 
 
 "DUT General Harmar's pursuit of Wetzel for the 
 killing of the Indian had in no wise ceased, 
 although the scout had long since dropped out of 
 his mind any concern of the matter. 
 
 The officers under Harmar had standing orders to 
 arrest " the murderer of the pacific Indian" when- 
 ever and wherever they might find him. 
 
 It was even suggested that a reward be offered for 
 the arrest, but to this the commandant turned a 
 deaf ear; he knew too well that a reward would 
 only make the settlers more indignant and more 
 persevering to thwart justice; while secrecy would 
 eventually throw the game into his hands, and the 
 excitement aroused by the arrest Would be mote of 
 a negative than a positive order. 
 
 It would appear now that Wetzel, after his taking 
 it in his own hands to put a stop to the turke3^-cries, 
 went leisurely down the Ohio River towards the 
 Kanawha. 
 
 Here he roved about for a little while in the 
 
A CHANCE FOR AN ARREST. 293 
 
 fastnesses of his beloved woods. Apropos of this 
 love of the woods, he is reported to have once said, 
 " I cannot breathe in the open air. I require the 
 leaves of trees to break and filter it before it enters 
 my lungs." 
 
 As he went along one day, he met a white man, 
 who eyed him. 
 
 " Are you Lewis Wetzel ?" inquired the stranger. 
 
 " That is my name," replied the scout. 
 
 The stranger turned on his heel and abruptly left 
 him. The scout gazed after him, hailed him, but 
 received no reply whatever, the stranger only 
 hurrying the faster when he heard the detaining 
 voice back of him. This man traveled day and 
 night till he came to the station of the military. 
 He informed them of Wetzel's vicinity, instructed 
 them how to get there, and then asked for the 
 reward. 
 
 He was told there was none, and was ignomin- 
 iously hustled from the camp by the troops who 
 despised the cowardly informer, as much as they 
 desired to capture the scout — for it was mortifying 
 that a single man should thwart the vigilance of 
 the entire army. Yet for all the information, they 
 did not know where, exactly, to place hands on the 
 scout; for he might be here to-day, but not even 
 himself could tell where to-morrow would find him. 
 
294 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Wetzel, in the meantime, had taken to the Ohio 
 again, and floated leisurely down, often for days at a 
 time lying on the broad of his back, letting the boat 
 go v/hither it would, and gazing up to the clouds 
 which were always a wonder to him. 
 
 At last, one day, he sighted Point Pleasant, and 
 landed there. 
 
 Following his usual humor when he had no 
 Indians to engage his deadly attention, he ranged 
 the little town for a few days, looking at the sights 
 and filled with admiration. 
 
 His old friends, dogs and little children, used to 
 tag around at his heels, and in a few days he was 
 well known, and people used to stop and gaze after 
 the wild-looking man with a string of animals and 
 boys and girls following happily in his footsteps. 
 
 " A strange man," they would say. 
 
 It is related of him that a woman w^ith a sick 
 child cried aloud in the night that she was all alone 
 and that her child was dying 
 
 Wetzel, passing along outside, called up to the 
 window that if she wanted assistance to say so. She 
 wanted the doctor, and there was no one to go for 
 him. The scout brought the doctor, and stayed 
 besides and quieted the child all night, making the 
 mother go and lie down and get some rest. Men 
 hearing of it smiled and thought " a screw is loose 
 in him." Women thought it brave in him. 
 
A CHANCE FOB AN ARREST. 295 
 
 " He is a hero !" said a pale little school-mistress 
 who had braved everything and come out here to 
 ^ establish a hall of learning; "he is a hero! I am 
 neither pretty nor attractive, and yet the man never 
 meets me with a pail of water but he takes it from 
 me without a word and carries it for me. I require 
 heaps of water, and, oddly enough, I always go to 
 tlrc stream about the time he comes along." 
 
 " You never used so much water before he came," 
 said a woman friend, cynically. 
 
 "No. Isn't it odd?" returned the little school- 
 mistress, with the ghost of a bloom in her thin 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Very odd," said her friend, who had not the 
 heart to go any further into the new demand for 
 water. So women thought of him — the frailer the 
 woman, the stronger her admiration for manly 
 strength. 
 
 He whittled toys for the children, made them bows 
 and arrows, and often he had a row of urchins sur- 
 rounding and hemming him in, as he worked and 
 listened tenderly to their prattle. They would ask 
 him if he had any little children of his own ; and 
 if he had ever been a little child like them ; and if 
 he would not like to be as they were; and if when 
 big rnen like he died they went up to the stars and 
 were taught to be happy, just as little children who 
 
296 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 died were? They would seem to pity him, and 
 fondled him caressingly. They climbed over him, 
 pulled and platted his hair, and committed all the 
 reckless depredations of young children. 
 
 And he was a man whose hands were deeply 
 imbrued in human blood ! 
 
 Was he a guilty man ? He could not have been 
 the harsh man that some of his detractors have 
 declared him. Here, too, he did chores for the 
 women — mended their broken furniture, fixed a 
 gate, even patched shoes, for so had he learned to 
 be of use on all occasions. 
 
 Yet it was not for long that he remained, here or 
 at any place, no matter how frequent might be his 
 visits ; for, always restless and ill at ease, he might 
 retire at night promising all manner of things 
 for the morrow ; but in the morning, before his 
 entertainers were awake, he would be gone ; and no 
 matter how much the children might cry, they 
 might not see him again for months, though the 
 possibility existed that it might be but weeks — no 
 one could tell when. "A strange man," was the 
 verdict as usual. 
 
 Lieutenant Kingsbury, attached to General Har- 
 mar's command, happened to be at the mouth of 
 the Kanawha at the time of one of Wetzel's 
 periodical visits, and, while scouting about, ran 
 
A CHANCE FOE AN ARREST. 297 
 
 against the scout one day while the latter was 
 carrying a child across a muddy puddle. 
 
 Wetzel saw Kingsbury first, before the latter 
 recognized the approaching man, and guessed at an 
 arrest. He kissed the little child in his arms, and 
 gently set it down on the ground. " 
 
 " There," he said, " now run away, little one, run 
 home to mother, and wait till I come back with my 
 big pocket full of nice nuts. Eun fast, now ; let me 
 see how fast you can run." 
 
 The child took to its heels, and soon ran out of 
 danger, its innocent laugh becoming fainter and 
 fainter as it went further away. Wetzel then turned 
 to Lieutenant Kingsbury (who had halted likewise), 
 silently leaving it to the lieutenant to decide on the 
 mode of procedure, feeling himself prepared and 
 ready for whatever might happen, but as resolved 
 as ever that he did not deserve hanging. 
 
 He could not have been detained by a better man ; 
 for Kingsbury was too brave a man himself to enter- 
 tain anything but good feeling towards a spirit like 
 Wetzel's, and would not attempt to injure him, even 
 if it were safe to do so. 
 
 He turned frowning to the scout. 
 
 "Why are you always getting yourself in danger?" 
 he asked sternly. 
 
 " Am I in danger now ?"* asked Wetzel. 
 
298 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 "Look here," said the lieutenant argumenta- 
 tively, "why are you making me disobey orders? 
 I deserve court-martialing, do you know that? If 
 I were anybody but myself I should call myself a 
 coward. I never saw a fellow like you ; you won't 
 give peaceably-inclined people a chance to rest. 
 You know very well that the orders of General 
 Harmar are stringent, and that he is a disciplina- 
 rian. And you have no right to upset all his plans, 
 as you have done for a long time. Pshaw, Wetzel, 
 I am almost ashamed of you ! If I were you I'd 
 turn monk, and quit the world. It would be a great 
 benefit to — the Indians. Is there an Indian monas- 
 tery anywhere around? Go there! Why are you 
 always in danger?'* 
 
 " Am I in danger now," asked Wetzel in return 
 for this harangue. 
 
 "You know you are. Are there not standing 
 orders to arrest you ?" 
 
 "Do you intend to do it?" 
 
 "Would you have me held for dereliction of 
 duty?" 
 
 " Does your duty begin and end in General Har- 
 mar's orders ?" 
 
 Frowning like a thunder-gust. Lieutenant Kings- 
 bury ended this conversation, which had been a 
 mass of interrogations from first to last, by saying 
 
A CHANCE FOB AN ARREST. 299 
 
 merely, "get out of my sight, Indian killer," and 
 brushed past the man he should have taken had he 
 felt that his duty lay entirely in the standing order 
 of his superior officer. 
 
 Wetzel turned away, too, and perhaps as much to 
 save the brave lieutenant any further awkwardness 
 as to preserve his own equanimity, went directly to 
 the bank of the river where his canoe was fastened, 
 pulled up the stake, got into the frail bark, and 
 paddled off in the direction of Limestone, which he 
 had long intended to visit. 
 
800 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XYL 
 
 THE INDIAN GIRL. 
 
 A T Limestone and Washington, the county town, 
 Wetzel now establislied his headquarters. 
 
 Here he took part in hunting-parties, and showed 
 the wonderful dexterity he had acquired with his 
 gun. He helped in the fields of grain, and in the 
 forest felled and sawed the wood for winter firesides 
 that would never warm him. 
 
 He also went out with other scouts in search of 
 predatory Indians. 
 
 While many of the scouts took the Indians indis- 
 criminately, Wetzel deprecated the making captive 
 of women. 
 
 " Not a woman," he would say, " for our mothers 
 are women !" 
 
 " Our fathers are men, too," was the argument 
 held out to him. 
 
 " And as men, can defend themselves," he replied. 
 " But men to attack and capture women 1 That is 
 not for me — for you." 
 
 So many a squaw owed her impunity from 
 
THE INDIAN GIRL. SOI 
 
 capture and harsh treatment to the man who would 
 gladly have killed her male relatives before her very 
 eyes while shielding her from any harm whatever. 
 
 There was one squaw, a young girl of fifteen, 
 bright-eyed and winsome, who, witnessing the shoot- 
 ing of her three brothers and her father, was taken 
 prisoner by a party of whites and brought into the 
 camp in the woods where the scouts were assembled. 
 
 Some of the younger men complimented the girl 
 on her prepossessing appearance, and she turned 
 away, abashed at their rude and openly-expressed 
 admiration. 
 
 "Let us make a vivandiere of her, such as the 
 French have," suggested a careless young fellow. 
 
 " Let the girl go," commanded a stern voice. 
 
 " Who spoke in that tone ?" demanded the young 
 fellow, leaping to his feet in anger. 
 
 Wetzel came to him and put his hand on his 
 shoulder : 
 
 " I spoke, lad," he said. "' The girl must go. Have 
 you sisters ? If you have, think of their position in 
 an Indian camp." 
 
 " Their position in such a place should make me 
 detain this girl from revenge." 
 
 " It should make you liberate her for very pity," 
 
 said the scout quietly, going over to the girl who 
 
 looked on open-eyed. 
 26 
 
302 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Go, child," he said, " your people's camp is wait- 
 ing for you." 
 
 She buried her face in her hands and broke into 
 piteous weeping, nor could she be quieted for a long 
 time, the men gathering around her in perturbation, 
 and lost in sympathy, where a few minutes ago they 
 had been cruel and callous. 
 
 When at last she dried her tears, she peeped 
 through her fingers at the men. Then she smiled, 
 showing her beautiful teeth. 
 
 Then she threw her hands from her face, and 
 radiant and her eyes sparkling like stars from very 
 happiness, she ran and caught Wetzel's hand in both 
 of hers, and covered it with kisses, and stood silently 
 beside him, looking earnestly in his face. 
 
 And here a new difficulty arose: she refused to be 
 separated from the man who had given her freedom. 
 
 " Indian girl got no father, no brothers ; she like 
 white brave ; she go with him." 
 
 " But the white brave cannot take you," said Wet- 
 zel kindly, as he spoke to all children. 
 
 " Pooh !" said the Indian girl with sovereign con- 
 tempt; " Indian girl don't want to be took' — she take 
 herself. She know every path; she follow after 
 white brave." 
 
 She came calmly and placed her hand in Wet- 
 zel's. 
 
THE INDIAN GIRL. 303 
 
 " But what am I to do with her?" asked the scout 
 in despair. 
 
 The other men enjoyed the situation. 
 
 At length he took the girl with him, and they 
 wandered through the forest till they came in sight 
 of an encampment of some of her people. Then, 
 pretending that he desired a parley with them, he 
 prevailed upon her to go before him as an ambassa- 
 dress of the mission. 
 
 She sprang lightly forward, glad to do his behest ; 
 and when he saw her safe within the line of Indian 
 pickets, he dived through the brush and made for 
 foreign parts. 
 
 In the camp that night, however, the girl presented 
 herself again. 
 
 " What am I to do with her ?" asked one of the 
 young men derisively. 
 
 Wetzel said : 
 
 " Do you think this girl was allowed to come 
 because she wanted to ? She is either a decoy, or 
 else her people cast her off, now that her father and 
 brothers are no more." 
 
 " Her people cast her off because she loves a white 
 man," said a voice out of the darkness, and the 
 crack of an Indian rifle was heard, and the girl 
 with a moan fell lifeless at the veTy feet of Wetzel. 
 
 Whether the bullet had been intended for the 
 Bcout or her could only be guessed at 
 
304 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 But the camp was in an uproar, and the men filed 
 off, seeking for the murderer. 
 
 The search was unavailing, and hy midnight the 
 party w^ere collected in camp once more, and a grave 
 was dug for the poor child. 
 
 Wetzel composed her limbs decently, and wrapped 
 her in his blanket. They laid her in the gloomy, 
 narrow trench they had dug, and the cry of gather- 
 ing wolves was the funeral hymn. The men pre- 
 pared to throw on the earth, when Wetzel stopped 
 them. 
 
 "We commit this body to the earth from whence 
 it came," he said in a low voice. " And as from the 
 earth spring up flowers and healthful things for 
 man's life, so may this immortal soul arise to the 
 seat of mercy, a flower, a fruit in the sight of God. 
 Amen!" 
 
 Then he motioned for the men to proceed, and 
 soon the earth was piled high upon the young breast 
 whose life had been so suddenly cut ofl* by the 
 ruthless bullet of one of her own people. 
 
 The camp-fire was moved on to the grave to pro- 
 tect it from the wolves ; and piling wood on it, and 
 waiting until the flames were high and fierce, the 
 party of white men moved silently away from the 
 spot, and made their camp further off, and where 
 the flame on the grave could only be seen like a 
 thin golden vapor. 
 
THE INDIAN GIRL. 305 
 
 In the early morning "Wetzel went alone to the 
 grave and saw the white ashes of what had been a 
 fierce fire the night before. Long he stood there lost 
 in contemplation. Then he roused himself, and 
 looking furtively around, and finding no one near 
 him, he went and pulled some crimson blossoms, 
 that made an adjoining bush like a living flame, 
 and threw them upon the ashes, until the ground 
 seemed carpeted by sunset. The girl had been 
 killed as he might have killed his own sister had 
 she chosen an Indian for her protector. What was 
 the difference? For the first time in his life he 
 paused in asking himself the question — w^hat was 
 the difference between the soul of an Indian and a 
 white man ? 
 
308 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL. 
 
 'T^HERE were seasons of inactivity, too, when the 
 scouts wanted a variet}^ of amusement. 
 
 "Amusement !" echoed Wetzel, to whom the rumors 
 of discontent in camp came more than once, which 
 discontent he could not comprehend. "Amuse- 
 ment !" 
 
 " Oh, it is all very well for you," cried one, who 
 noted the intonation of his voice; "you never seem 
 to care for anything but loneliness and Indians. We 
 don't overly like loneliness, and we don't want to 
 spend our entire lives in murder." 
 
 " Murder !" was the word echoed now, and other 
 scouts came between the two. 
 
 "Now, look here, Wetzel," said one, "you must 
 own yourself that you're not always downright lively 
 — your company manners are not quite cheerful. 
 What's the use of going through the world like a 
 quart of blackberries? AVhy can't you make one 
 of us, and try to see a little fun? Do you know 
 how many times you have laughed in your life ?" 
 
TBIAL AND ACQUITTAL. 307 
 
 " I hope you give me credit for bearing no ill-will 
 towards you — towards any man in the world?" said 
 Wetzel. 
 
 " How about Indians?" laughed his companion. 
 
 ** Indians are fiends." 
 
 "No, Wetzel, we know you have in you the 
 making of a good fellow ; but why don't you make 
 the good fellow ? Come, now, for once in a while see 
 if you can't be happy with us." 
 
 " Happy !" 
 
 "Well, w^hatever stands for happiness in you. 
 Will you try?" 
 
 " I will do what I can, friend." 
 
 To satisfy and gratify the — to him — careless souls 
 so bent on a different line of amusement than that 
 one which partook of more perils than any others, 
 there were shooting-matches, foot-racing, and WTest- 
 ling with the hunters, or any chance comer who 
 desired to contest. The settlers heard of these 
 games, and came in to see them. 
 
 " Why don't Wetzel try?" asked one. " Can't he 
 do anything but fire off" a gun ?" 
 
 So to please them Wetzel tried and conquered. 
 
 His enormous strength found few competitors and 
 no rivals. His prowess with the rifle was well 
 known, and hardly any would take part against him 
 in shooting. His speed of foot was marvelous, and 
 
308 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 his endurance something that created a species of 
 awe in the hunters, themselves no mean runners. 
 His wrestling soon left him without an antagonist. 
 And this was how he contributed to their amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 And thus, though he conquered, and conquered so 
 easily, he made no enemies, and those he worsted 
 most admired him most. For once, when he had 
 hurt a man in wrestling with him, he constituted 
 himself the man's nurse, and tended him assid- 
 uously and carefully as a woman. He entered into 
 the sports with no bragging tendencies, and only 
 consented to take part after much pressing and 
 when a refusal would have created ill-feeling. Such 
 a man is bound to make few enemies. In fact, he 
 has been represented by those who knew him at this 
 period as being a general favorite, no less ^or his 
 personal qualities than for his services. 
 
 Now, constituting a part of the amusements, there 
 was called a shooting-match at Maysville, and after 
 long coaxing Wetzel consented to take a part in the 
 contest. 
 
 The day came and brought its crowds, and the 
 competitors of the scout were resolved to have their 
 revenge. 
 
 But the usual luck attended him, for he would 
 not shoot ill; he entered solemnly into everything 
 
TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL. S09 
 
 he attempted and with the full intention to do his 
 best. The match being so unequal, and finding at 
 what a disadvantage he placed his rivals, Wetzel at 
 length offered to withdraw. 
 
 The opposition to his intention was not over- 
 poweringly strong ; and waiting a little while to look 
 on, so as not again to be accused of a lack of conge- 
 niality and good feeling, he slipped unperceived 
 from the noisy party, and made his way to aa 
 adjoining tavern and had a pot of cider placed 
 before him. 
 
 Into this place others soon after straggled, for 
 when Wetzel stopped shooting the interest to many 
 was over. Then his rivals sauntered in, discontented 
 and not overly pleased with the man over there in 
 the corner silently drinking his cider and paying 
 little or no attention to any one. 
 
 '' It was the fault of my powder," declared one. 
 
 " My shot were too light," said another. 
 
 " That gun of mine has got to be looked over," 
 cried a third. 
 
 " Give in, boys," laughed an old man, "and blame 
 the right cause of your failure." 
 
 "You mean Wetzel," said two or three at once, 
 looking darkly over towards his corner. 
 
 " I mean yourselves," laughed the old man. 
 
 All the same they eyed Wetzel grudgingly. 
 
310 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 In the midst of the talk, which now became 
 general and noivsy, one voice pitted against another, 
 and all against every one, and Avhen some were 
 blaming Wetzel for taking part at all and so easily 
 putting them all out of countenance, there came the 
 ring of a sword pounding on the door lintel. There 
 entered a lieutenant of the regular army, who was 
 on his way down the Ohio to Fort Washington. 
 
 " Welcome, lieutenant," cried some of the men ; 
 " and here's to you !" 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, good fellows all," responded the 
 lieutenant, "and here's at yourselves! I only 
 stopped because I heard your loud voices, and I 
 knew there was a chance here of getting a generous 
 nip of real cider. I see by indications that some of 
 you have been having sport of some sort." 
 
 " Only a shooting-match, and that wasn't a match, 
 after all," responded one of the discomfited heroes. 
 
 " How is that?" asked the new-comer. 
 
 " Well, one of us is too good a shot for the others, 
 and he won't shoot bad to please us." 
 
 The lieutenant laughed. 
 
 "You could hardly expect him to come down 
 from the pedestal," he said. " I am only sorry that 
 I came too late to be a witness of all this. Can't wo 
 lijjve a little match now?" 
 
 " Not if Wetzel takes part," replied the man. 
 
TBIAL AND ACQUITTAL. 311 
 
 " Wetzel !" repeated the lieutenant. " So lie was 
 the champion ? No wonder you were all beaten. I 
 have heard of him." 
 
 " Oh, you've heard of him? I hope a good many 
 have iicard of him ?" 
 
 "Tell us something new," cried the same old man 
 who had once before spoken. " You're sure you've 
 hoard of Wetzel, eh?" 
 
 The lieutenant laughed good-humorcdly,and paid 
 for a stoup of cider ail around. 
 
 " Won't the man in the corner have some?'Mie 
 asked, nodding his head in that direction. 
 
 '•' If the man in the corner wants some, the man in 
 the corner can say so," returned a discomfited hero, 
 not quite over his bad shot. 
 
 But the man in the corner did not say so, and the 
 others drank their cider without his company. 
 
 The lieutenant ordered a little more, looking over 
 to the man in the corner, anxious that he should 
 drink. Then the lieutenant paid the reckoning, and 
 moved towards the door. 
 
 " Well, as we cannot have a match, I'll go down 
 to my boat. Good-day to you !" 
 
 " Stay a little longer, lieutenant ; maybe we'll get 
 up the match. Only wait awhile." 
 
 But the lieutenant had hurried out. 
 
 " What made him act so strangely ?'* 
 
312 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " He was afraid of Wetzel," said one ; " did you 
 see how he eyed him ?" 
 
 " More likely he was afraid of being asked to pay 
 for more cider for us." 
 
 " Not troubled with politeness, anyhow ; he didn't 
 even tell us his name." 
 
 But Lieutenant Lawler had hurried down to his 
 boat. 
 
 " A file of men immediately !" he cried. 
 
 The men came to shore with all speed. 
 
 " To the tavern," he ordered, " and seize the man 
 Wetzel there. Go hurriedly, seize him at once, and 
 hurry him down to the boat, before there is a 
 chance of an interference. We must take him by 
 surprise." 
 
 They went forward, and reached the tavern. 
 
 "That is your man," cried Lieutenant Lawler, 
 indicating Wetzel, who was sitting at a table in the 
 corner, playing a game of checkers with his host's 
 little son. 
 
 The company in the room, taken by the surprising 
 boldness of the proceeding, gazed on with open- 
 mouthed wonder. 
 
 A party of the soldiers rushed upon the scout, 
 pinioned his arms, hustled him from the tavern, and 
 ran him down to the boat and pushed from shore 
 before those left behind in the tavern had recovered 
 from their astonishment. 
 
TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL. 313 
 
 It Tvas only when the boat was far down the river 
 that those on board saw the tavern door suddenly 
 fly open, and a host of wild, indignant men hurry 
 down to the river side, gesticulating and yelling 
 after the receding boat, and vowing vengeance with 
 voices that made those who heard them involun- 
 tarily grasp their rifles. But a rescue was all too 
 late, and the men on the shore grew smaller and 
 more indistinct while the boat rowed on and on with 
 its f^risoner safely bound. - 
 
 That same night Lieutenant Lawler delivered 
 Wetzel to General Harmar in Cincinnati. 
 
 "So, Wetzel, we meet again," said the general. 
 " You will not again have the chance to reward my 
 clemency so vilely. Your irons will be doubly 
 strong this time, and you must become used to a 
 lack of exercise." 
 
 There was the trial and subsequent condemnation, 
 for Wetzel never denied shooting the Indian at 
 Marietta ; he would have disdained to do so. 
 
 "Speak, Lewis Wetzel," was said to him during 
 the trial. " Are you guilty or not guilty ?" 
 
 Wetzel folded his arms and faced his accusers. 
 
 " Guilty of what?" he asked. 
 
 " Of murdering a fellow-being in cold blood, with- 
 out provocation." 
 
 "I killed an Indian—that is my crime," said 
 Wetzel. 27 
 
314 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Certain well-disposed people clearly saw that it 
 was their mission in life to endeavor to impress such 
 a reckless man with the true meaning of murder. 
 These came to him and talked to him, and left with 
 the idea that if they had not edified him, at least 
 they had not been unedified themselves. They 
 spoke to him as though they were speaking to a 
 child, as so many good-intentioned make the mis- 
 take of imagining that a great criminal should not 
 be allowed to explain himself, but that they should 
 explain themselves, and try to make him understand 
 that he is a most hardened wretch ; and, as the laws 
 of the land grant him little mercy here, the Higher 
 Law can scarcely be expected to do much for him 
 in lenient treatment hereafter. 
 
 The criminal has his story to tell, and that story 
 more often than not justifies him in the commission 
 of his act — in his own e3'es. The crime he knows, 
 as well as do his accusers; but he alone knows the 
 sting of the provocation, and, while the act is a 
 stigma, the facts leading to it are the excuse. Crimi- 
 nals to be made to comprehend that something 
 more than man's law and order have been over- 
 thrown by a flagrant act, must feel that eyes as be- 
 nignant as those turned upon the thief dying on the 
 cross are reading their hearts and guaging the pos- 
 sibilities of their souls. For crime, in the eyes of him 
 
TBIAL AND ACQUITTAL, , 315 
 
 who commits it, surely has not the horror which it 
 holds for us when we calm and cool ones read of its 
 commission. 
 
 This will be explained when we realize that it 
 would have been impossible, in his then frame of 
 mind, for Lewis Wetzel to have seen murder in the 
 killing of the Indian at Marietta ; he could bring 
 evidence after evidence, based upon biblical prece- 
 dent, to place his act within the pale of Divine com- 
 mandment. 
 
 Judas was a murderer in his sight, — the basest, 
 most unscrupulous he could imagine, — nothing 
 more ; for Judas never knew that he plotted the mur- 
 der of his Lord — he would have known that Divinity 
 could not suffer at the hands of man, even if man 
 could be so insane as to imagine such a thing, which 
 Judas could not. Herodias was a murderess, because 
 something more than mere revenge for insult actu- 
 ated her; her guilt cursed her, and made her see in 
 murder mere retaliation, not revenge. But Goliath 
 had not been murdered, nor had Samson murdered 
 his tormentors. Therefore it was a needless and 
 thankless task these good-intentioned people had 
 taken upon themselves when they tried to teach 
 him that the killing of an Indian was the act of a 
 Judas. 
 
 He was thought to be hardened and lost to eon- 
 
816 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 science — abandoned to the devil and his works. He 
 was sentenced to death by hanging. 
 
 But General Harmar, although well acquainted 
 with the routine of military service, was somewhat 
 destitute of the practical sense of it, which is 
 always indispensable in frontier settlements in 
 which such severe measures as were exercised in 
 Wetzel's case are more likely to rouse the settlers 
 to revolt than to intimidate them, and he soon 
 found that the country around him was up in arms 
 and determmed to. resist him. 
 
 For the story of Wetzel's capture and proposed 
 punishment for the mere fault of shooting an 
 Indian had spread through the various settlements 
 like wild-fire, kindling the ever ready passions of 
 the frontiermen to a pitch of fury. " He shall never 
 die," they said. " We will rescue him or die our- 
 selves. The principle we laid down must be main- 
 tained. And after all this time to go and capture 
 the man ! It would appear that the army has had 
 nothing to do but plot to waylay one white man, 
 while the ravages of the Indians are not repressed, 
 and peace is preached to us who must submit, and 
 we are told that to disobey a soldier is to disobey the 
 law of the land." 
 
 Meetings were held, and indignant protests made. 
 People straggled in from all sides "to see justice 
 
TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL. 317 
 
 done." There was but one voice in the matter — the 
 scout must go free. " Not that he is Wetzel," they 
 persisted so in saying that no one believed them, 
 " but because our principle is involved. The man 
 shall not hanof. We will see who has the stronoest 
 arm — this military man who comes ignorantly 
 among us and presumes to teach us our duties 
 towards a miscreant race who murder and pillage us 
 with impunity, or we who own the land and who 
 have gained it inch by inch from just such foul 
 thieves as this savage that Wetzel killed for us." 
 
 Petitions for the release of Wetzel came pouring 
 in upon General Harmar from all quarters and from 
 all classes of society. 
 
 At first he paid little or no attention to them. 
 
 " They are the protests of indignant friends," he 
 said, '' which are natural in any case of a criminal 
 sentenced to death." 
 
 But it was not Lewis Wetzel who called forth all 
 of the protests so much as the principle involved, 
 came the after-report. 
 
 If a man was to be hanged for killing an Indian, 
 then would society go to the dogs, and no man's 
 property would be assured to him either by law or 
 justice. No, Wetzel represented themselves ; his fate 
 represented the retention or the slipping away of 
 all the property which had become theirs by dint of 
 struggle and untold difficulties. 
 
318 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 There was little else thought of, little else talked 
 of. While the settlers determined that Wetzel should 
 not suffer for the execution of an Indian thief, their 
 farms were probably more devastated by red-skins 
 than they ever had been before. For nothing was 
 guarded now, and cattle and garden-stuff might go 
 until after this difficulty was adjusted. 
 
 But an Indian dared not show himself around 
 while the ire was unabated. The troublesome affair 
 became known to the savages, and there was not one 
 met with during all the time of Wetzel's incarcera- 
 tion ; but they worked their depredations silently in 
 the night, and woe to the Indian that a scout would 
 have come across just then. 
 
 " And yet it is but a test case," said an old hunter, 
 who had been in the court room as a juryman once, 
 and who, therefore, was considered quite an authority 
 on legal points. 
 
 " A test case !" echoed a handsome virago, her 
 arms akimbo. " Call it a test case, do you ? I'd like 
 to make a test case. Here, somebody go and bring 
 me in an Injun, and I'll pretty soon make a test case 
 of him. Hang Lewis Wetzel, will they? — the man 
 that mended my tubs without being asked, and 
 never said a word about it ! Never ! I wish I had 
 my ten fingers in General Harmar's eyes, w^ouldn't 
 he see stars I Hang Lewis Wetzel, will they ?" 
 
TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL. 319 
 
 At length the settlements all along the Ohio, and 
 those even of the back counties, began to embody in 
 military array to release the prisoner by force of 
 arms. And many of these indignant people were 
 women and even little children. These many stern 
 faces . meant something which military law had 
 scarcely ever encountered. 
 
 Representations were made to Judge Symmes 
 which induced him to issue a writ of habeas corpus 
 in the case. 
 
 "Who will go security for Lewis Wetzel's good 
 behavior?" was asked in court. 
 
 "Good behavior !" cried a woman, " why you must 
 be a fool. There isn't a better mannered man in 
 the country than Lewis Wetzel. You don't know 
 what politeness is." 
 
 " Order in the court !" 
 
 When order had been restored, the question 
 was again put as to w^ho would be security for the 
 scout. 
 
 A party of hunters, who had attended the trial 
 from first to last, now came forv/ard with big bags 
 of money in their hands. 
 
 "We're his bondsmen," said one. 
 
 " Yes, we're his bondsmen," repeated the others in 
 chorus. 
 
 " Have you any property ?" . 
 
320 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Here it is," holding out the bags. 
 
 " But I mean landed property." 
 
 " Bless the man's sweet eyes ! Just as if gold 
 wasn't landed property ! — just as if gold wasn't safer 
 than land in these Indian settlements. Now, judge, 
 just you look here! Landed property, do you say? 
 Do you mean land? Perhaps, then, you'd like us 
 to go out and dig up a whole prairie and bring it 
 into this here court and give it to you as a security 
 for Wetzel's decent conduct hereafter— is that your 
 meaning, judge? We don't quite get the hang of 
 these here court proceedings, but if that's your 
 meaning, just out with it, and if we can't lodge a 
 whole prairie here, we'll bring you the stock of one, 
 — grass, bisons, wolves, and Injuns, — and you can 
 keep them all as long as you want to — 'specially the 
 Injuns. Say, now, look here! this good, honest gold 
 will have to do, judge. And bless the Injun we 
 come across on our way out; they'll remember 
 this day. Take the gold, judge?" 
 
 " The prisoner is acquitted !" 
 
 With shouts and wild hallooing, Wetzel was lifted 
 out of the rude dock, and borne aloft on the shoulders 
 of half a dozen brawny men, and taken out into 
 the open air. 
 
 Such shouting, such festivity! A chance-comer 
 might have supposed that Alexander or some myth- 
 
TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL. 821 
 
 ical conqueror had come to life again. The princi- 
 ple was preserved intact, and Wetzel represented the 
 entire country. 
 
 He was borne in triumph to Columbia, where he 
 was feasted and feted. The place bore the appear- 
 ance of a fair, and the festivities lasted two days. 
 And not an Indian was to be seen, nor a camp-fire 
 smoke in the sky. 
 
 And while the Indians had the good sense to 
 remain in covert, it was equally good that Lieu- 
 tenant Lawler's duties did not lead him down that 
 way. 
 
 "Let him come!" said the lady of the court- 
 house. 
 
 Wetzel is thus described at this period, August, 
 1789: 
 
 Twenty-six years of age, about five feet, nine 
 inches high. Full-breasted, very broad across the 
 shoulders, arms very large, skin dark, face heavily 
 pitted with small-pox His hair when combed out 
 reached to the calves of his legs. His eyes were 
 very black, and when he was excited they sparkled 
 with such vindictiveness for his enemies that few 
 cared to provoke him to wrath, although he was 
 very forbearing. He was quiet and kindly of voice. 
 His morals were never impeached. 
 
822 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE INDIAN CAMP. 
 
 T?ROM all records and tales which have come 
 down to us, it appears that Wetzel had now his 
 regular seasons for hunting Indians, as other men 
 around him were accustomed to hunt for deer and 
 buffalo, and to shoot them down wheresoever he 
 might chance upon them, with as little compunction 
 as he would have shot a deer or a panther. He 
 knew the seasons when his advantage of attacking 
 his prey would best reward his search. Before this 
 time he had, of course, studied the habits of the red 
 man, but hate made him understand their very in- 
 tentions, it would seem, and he appeared to scent 
 them long before any one else knew of their advent 
 into his vicinity. 
 
 His predilection was known to every one, and 
 often, when his fine aim would have been desirable 
 in a lick of deer, some one of the hunters would 
 say: 
 
 " There is no use asking Wetzel to waste powder 
 on a mere deer. He has other and more worthless 
 game to track." 
 
THE INDIAN CAMP. 32^ 
 
 For his recent liberation did not elate him, nor 
 did the warning of his incarceration weigh very 
 heavily on him. He went about his self-imposed 
 task as though he had gone through no experience 
 that any time had threatened him with disaster. 
 He harbored no ill-will towards his captors or his 
 judges. 
 
 " They only did their duty as they understood it," 
 he said, " and as I do mine." 
 
 So he only waited until the fall of the leaf to set 
 out on one of his old expeditions. For days before 
 going he prepared his implements, the little children 
 playing around him, and then one morning he was 
 missed. 
 
 He had set off alone the night before on an 
 Indian hunt. At this time of the year the Indians 
 w^ere generally scattered in small parties around 
 their hunting-grounds, making their lazy provisions 
 for the winter's subsistence. For the renewed vigi- 
 lance of the settlers had made the red-skins more 
 wary, and they ventured less within the enclosures 
 of the farmers, fearful of hidden rifles and scientifi- 
 cally wielded tomahawks. Their spies had seen and 
 reported the liberation of Wetzel, and they divined 
 what they had to expect now that the scout was held 
 on his good behavior, and what they might look 
 for at the hands of his friends who guaranteed in 
 
324 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 court that lie would behave himself in the most 
 praiseworthy maimer. 
 
 Wetzel going out in the night proceeded in his 
 little canoe to a point some where on the Muskingum 
 Eiver. Here he paused, attracted by a soft move- 
 ment in the bushes hedging the river. He divined 
 that this was the vicinity for him. He laid all night 
 in his canoe watching for morning to show him 
 more. 
 
 " I scent them," he said. 
 
 He put aside now the recent celebrations over his 
 regained liberty with a species of disgust. 
 
 "Why did I let them feed me, when' there was 
 work for me to do here ?" he said, and quite hated 
 what he called his weakness in having submitted to 
 the wishes of his admirers and letting them do with 
 him as they pleased. 
 
 At the first break of morning light he landed, 
 and, securing his canoe and hiding it in the bushes, 
 he proceeded to reconnoiter. 
 
 He had not proceeded far when he perceived a 
 thin thread of smoke arising and blurring the sky. 
 
 He followed that thread of smoke ! Nearer and 
 nearer he came to the place from which it emanated. 
 Then he could hear the low guttural tones peculiar 
 to the Indian voice, and he crept forward through 
 the under-brujsh, and, sooner than he expected, he 
 
THE INDIAN CAMP, 325 
 
 sighted within a short distance of him an Indian 
 camp where four braves had fixed their quarters for 
 a hunt. 
 
 They were gathered about the fire now, early as it 
 was, and were lazily complaining that they could 
 not sleep any more, having gone to rest at an earlier 
 hour than usual the night before. 
 
 They were great, strapping fellows, and their mur- 
 derous faces argued ill for the foe attacked without 
 the fullest provision for defensive warfare. But they 
 were not on the war-path now, but were amicably 
 inclined, — towards themselves, — and were only wait- 
 ing till afternoon when they should be sufiiciently 
 rested to go for a stroll through the adjacent plan-- 
 tation, as they could "take their ease and rest when 
 nothing important claimed their attention. 
 
 Wetzel, lying in the bushes, leaned forward to 
 catch the intent of their conversation, and to try to 
 find out if their camp meant depredation of a white 
 settler or merely a pleasure jaunt. 
 
 That it was the latter he soon understood, and 
 
 regarded the men eagerly — his was a pleasure jaunt 
 
 also. The Indians were so wholly unsuspicious of 
 
 any enemies prowling about them so late in the 
 
 season that they had neglected the precaution of 
 
 out-posts, and were completely off their guard, 
 
 keeping neither watch nor sentinel. 
 28 
 
326 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Wetzel at first hesitated as to the propriety of 
 attacking such an uncompromising number. But 
 after a little spell of cogitation he concluded to 
 trust to his usual good fortune, and so he began to 
 meditate on his mode of making an attack. He 
 concluded that their first sleep was the best time for 
 him to begin the work of death. He sat down and 
 watched them there, stern as fate, and as relentless. 
 
 The afternoon came on, and the sun filled the 
 wood with resinous perfumes. The braves got up 
 from their recumbent positions, stretched and 
 yawned, and sauntered off through the thicket. 
 
 Wetzel, too, glided further off from the camp to 
 rest awhile. He thought that about midnight their 
 senses would be most wrapped in stupor, and that 
 that would be the proper time for him to enter their 
 camp. 
 
 He determined to walk to the camp with his rifle 
 in one hand and his tomahawk in the other. Should 
 any of them happen to be awake at the time, he 
 could shoot one, and then run off in the darkness 
 of the night, assured of a hiding-place in the friendly 
 forest, and thus he could make his escape. Should 
 they all be asleep, he would make the onslaught 
 with his trusty aids — his scalping-knife and toma- 
 hawk. 
 
 Day passed away, and darkness came. A lost 
 
THE INDIAN CAMP. 827 
 
 mocking-bird filled the wood with plaintive, broken 
 melody of unrest and grief for the passing summer. 
 Other songsters answered here and there, and the 
 place was like a harbor of innocent yearning. Like 
 a disturbing spirit to ruin all this innocence, through 
 the darkness came the scout, silent and sure, towards 
 the open spot where reposed his sleeping victims. 
 The light from their fire soon shone upon the glis- 
 tening autumn leaves, lighting them up with new 
 radiance. It showed a path directly to the men 
 beside it. It crackled its warning voice, but did not 
 awake them ; it sent its flame jets across their dusky 
 faces, but did not disturb them ; it sent its smoke 
 across their nostrils, but still they slept. The fire, 
 their only friend at night in places where wild 
 animal foes abounded, could not deter the human 
 foe, but lighted him on his way. 
 
 That human foe was now standing amid the illu- 
 mination. He saw aroujid the fire the heavy- 
 blanketed enemies, — four sleeping forms, helpless as 
 babes in the partial death of sleep. 
 
 For a minute or so Wetzel regarded them. Was 
 he admiring their splendid physique, their calm, 
 even, unobstructed breathing, that told of freedom 
 from all bodily ills, and a wholesome lack of fear? 
 Was he thinking that possibly there were dusky 
 women in far-ofi", silent lodges tenderly dreaming 
 
328 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 of these men, seeing in their sleep the possible dan- 
 gers they might encounter, and fearing for their 
 safety now that the white man was equal to them 
 in cunning? Was he thinking that possibly little 
 children were waiting for these men, and at every 
 sound in the morrow's air running in expectation 
 of meeting them and being raised aloft in strong, 
 caressing arms? 
 
 While looking down on those sleeping forms, 
 he was thinking of the best mode of attacking 
 them! 
 
 He set his rifle against a tree, determining to use 
 only his knife and tomahawk, as these promised 
 surer aid if used properly by a well-strung arm 
 whose sinews were not relaxed by dissipation. 
 
 He leaned forward, cool and self-possessed, the 
 fire-sparks striking and stinging his face. He stood 
 thus for a second. Then he raised aloft the toma- 
 hawk, sent it whizzing . down to the head nearest 
 him, and then raised it, reeking, and the death had 
 begun. 
 
 With hideous yells, he aimed the tomahawk at 
 the second Indian's head; and for a second time 
 there was a dull thud, and fresh red added to the 
 terrible instrument of death. Then the third Indian 
 was rising, confused and confounded at the unex- 
 pected attack, but with two blows he was stretched 
 
THE INDIAN CAMP. 329 
 
 lifeless beside his companions. The remaining 
 Indian dashed a blanket over the fire that showed 
 him to his foe, and Wetzel made a rush forward to 
 him. 
 
 But he was too late ; the brave had escaped with- 
 out his blanket, and was speeding through the brush, 
 and the fire was smouldering and muttering. 
 
 Wetzel pursued him for some distance, but he did 
 not succeed in coming up to him. He then returned 
 to the camp, scalped the three Indians, pulled up 
 stakes, and made for the white settlements. 
 
 What ghosts must have affrighted him as he went 
 through those gloomy w^oods in the heart of the 
 night had he stopped to imagine such a possibilit}^ ! 
 The spirits of the Indians who had fallen by his 
 hand might have made a strong company of ac- 
 cusers to point at him with their fingers, asking 
 him for their lives which he had so wantonly de- 
 prived them of while they were in the full glory 
 and lustiness of early manhood ! And he might 
 have answered such dread spirits : 
 
 " My father's life w^as worth far more than all of 
 these ! — and where is that ?" 
 
 So he made his way onward, gained his canoe, and 
 went down the river. 
 
 When he came ifito the settlement after this expe- 
 dition, he was asked what sort of luck he had had. 
 
330 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Not very good," he said. " I treed four Indians, 
 and one got away from me. I have taken but three 
 scalps, after all my pains and fatigues." 
 
 " Well, luck can't always go along without some 
 disappointment," was the consoling reply, " and you 
 must hope for better things next time." 
 
 " Oh, I don't complain — I don't complain," said 
 Wetzel, and fastened his canoe to a pole by the 
 river, and told some adventurous children not to 
 venture there, as the water was deep. 
 
THE HVT IN THE STORM, 331 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE HUT IN THE STORM. 
 
 "\T7ETZEL knew that the Indian who had escaped 
 him would make it hot work for him to avoid 
 the many braves sent out to avenge the other three. 
 
 He knew that, while he sported with little chil- 
 dren in the settlements, councils were called in the 
 distant woods, and the peace-pipe buried and war- 
 paint donned, and all for him. For one of the 
 Indians he had killed had been a " big brave," and 
 his scalp was adorned by a circlet of brilliantly-dyed 
 feathers, while the leggings he had worn were deftly 
 wrought with beads and horse-hair, and his blanket 
 jingled with the bits of bright glass and metal and 
 stone that fringed it. 
 
 Reports came that an Indian or two had been 
 seen in the woods very near to the heart of the set- 
 tlement. Men going to look into the truth of the 
 report returned with a denial — nothing was there. 
 But Wetzel was not so positive of denial, though he 
 remained silent. 
 
 Often has he been well assured in his mind that 
 
332 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 while he slept, a sleeping town around him, red men 
 paced patiently and tirelessly before his house, tried 
 the handle of his door, looked in at his window; 
 that when he walked through the place a red man 
 paced near by him, taking step for step with him, 
 and that, for all he knew, the rifle and tomahawk 
 were often raised on him, only to fall back again 
 because of the approach of some one whose coming 
 augured death to the would-be dealer of death ; that 
 only the superior numbers of the settlers prevented 
 an open attack on the whole settlement. For the 
 Indians no longer mustered in large enough num- 
 bers, nor so far inland, to attack by any precon- 
 certed movement a "place inhabited by even a score 
 of white settlers. 
 
 So the holding-out qualities of the whites had 
 reduced the Indians to a sort of subjection ; and 
 the red man in his lodge could only point abroad 
 and tell his children that once upon a time his 
 fathers owned and held, without any question of 
 their title to the ground, all that sweep of land 
 between them and the setting sun, all those herds 
 of horses and cattle, all those fields of grain and 
 fruits ; while now no red man dared claim an ell of 
 land, the horse he rode was begrudged him, and 
 supposed to belong to some white adventurer from 
 whom it had been feloniously purloined, and that 
 
THE HUT IN THE STORM. 333 
 
 only the grave promised a last resting-place, where 
 no longer the body would be tortured by hunger 
 and the mind with constant apprehension. No red 
 man could understand why all this had come to 
 pass, and no red man at this distant day can 
 understand and feel assured that it is just and right. 
 The white man's logic must ever fall powerless upon 
 the ear of the red man, who once possessed the land 
 upon which the white logician has built his house, 
 and who invites the red man thither to listen to 
 reasons w^hy the house and land are the w^hite man's 
 and not the Indian's. 
 
 Wetzel, after his last adventure, rested a little 
 while inactive. He, in common with the settlers, 
 was beginning to understand that the Indians no 
 longer possessed that unique simplicity of character 
 which should let them trade their possessions of 
 inestimable value for a bunch of beads or a bottle 
 of fire-water. They began to comprehend that the 
 Indians had become systematized, and that they 
 had learned, in a perverted form, the value of the 
 white man's right and wrong. The settler was now 
 compelled to be wary at all times in all places, for 
 Indians were even now presenting claims, for 
 damages done, to the white courts in different prov- 
 inces. In the Eastern States there were arising 
 philanthropists to look after the interests of the 
 
334 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Indians, and who, leaving theology to its professors, 
 undertook to look after the worldly interests of "our 
 oppressed and native population." The romance 
 of Indian life afar off attracted the attention of 
 readers and thinkers, and the wrongs of an indige- 
 nous race were looked upon as the wrongs of indi- 
 vidual Indians who had degenerated from the noble 
 red man, by intermixture with the less principled 
 whites, and a misunderstanding of the meaning of 
 civilization, into the veriest cut-throats and black- 
 guards on the face of the earth. 
 
 The settlers knew the Indians as they found them, 
 and had no theory of their merits and demerits 
 beyond a doubt of every word they asseverated to 
 be truth and every moral they professed to have. 
 
 These friendly disposed whites afar off made the 
 evil-intentioned savages more bold and unprincipled 
 than they had been before. They arose from what 
 those whites called oppression, and were slyer and 
 more cruel than ever. 
 
 No white man could tell Lewis Wetzel more about 
 Indians than he already knew ; he had tested the 
 romance when he was a child, and the reality had 
 not been difhcult to learn. 
 
 So on his next scout he used a little more precau- 
 tion, and resolved to be more on the alert till the 
 excitement among the Indians attendant upon his 
 
THE HUT IN THE STOBM. 335 
 
 last attack on their people should have subsided. 
 But he met few or none of the red-skins for a long 
 time on this new scout. And this time he had 
 undertaken the adventure as much to find out the 
 intentions of the Indians upon the whites as any- 
 thing else — to ascertain how far the sympathy for 
 the savages had awakened in their untutored breasts 
 a fierce revolt against all hitherto accepted restric- 
 tion of their privileges. But he could not come 
 across a lodge, his foes had all apparently left the 
 neighborhood and gone further West, and the doubts 
 and apprehensions at the white settlements must 
 therefore be without any foundation. He resolved 
 to learn if his opinion on this head were correct, 
 and then he would go back and take the welcome 
 news to the settlers. 
 
 Now during this search there came a wretched 
 night of storm and rain. Those who have never 
 experienced a storm such as the wilds of Virginia 
 suff'ered can form but a faint conception of what is 
 meant by only rain and wind. At last, drenched 
 to the skin and chilled, Wetzel came across a half- 
 destroyed cabin, and crept into it for shelter. He 
 groped his way to the loft, as being less draughty, 
 and threw himself down to sleep. 
 
 How long he slept he knew not. The howling 
 wind and the deluge of rain could not wake him. 
 
336 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 But suddenly there seemed to cross his brain a 
 vivid flash of light. It was not lightning; it was 
 not white enough for that, even if it had been the 
 season for it. Then another flash came, and stayed 
 longer than the first. 
 
 He opened his eyes, and saw the flames coming 
 up the entrance to the loft. He heard voices below. 
 
 " He came here," said one voice in the Indian 
 tongue ; " he was near here all day long." 
 
 " He is not here now," grumbled another, " or he 
 would have taken shelter here. Curse him !" 
 
 " He does not mind the weather," said the first 
 speaker. 
 
 " Neither do we," was the answer, " but this rain 
 is such as I never saw before." 
 
 Wetzel, in the loft, crept forward to the entrance, 
 and looked down through the flame. Below werq 
 six Indians, who had taken possession of the hut, 
 lighted a blazing fire, and were busily preparing 
 their supper. 
 
 " But this light will attract his attention," said one 
 of the Indians. 
 
 "Good!" said another; " let it attract him. See, 
 this hut has a loft ; let us go there, and wait till he 
 comes along, and, thoroughly wet and tired to 
 death, seeing the place empty, enters." 
 
 Wetzel, in the loft above, drew his keen knife, 
 
THE HUT IN THE STORM. 337 
 
 determined that did they put this project into execu- 
 tion, and attempt to enter the loft, he would fight 
 for his life till the last drop of blood in his veins 
 was expended. 
 
 "But we will eat our supper first," one of the 
 Indians now said, " and then we will talk of it." 
 
 They gorged themselves with the meat they had 
 cooked, and then began a loose, disjointed talk. 
 
 Wetzel knew their characteristics too well to feel 
 that he was in any immediate danger of an attack 
 that night. And sure enough, in the middle of a 
 long preamble, one of the Indians turned over and 
 fell asleep on the floor. 
 
 " What a fool to sleep," said one of his compan- 
 ions, " when there is so much to do." 
 
 " What is there to do ?" asked a third, rubbing his 
 e3^es and gaping. 
 
 " Why, is not Wetzel to be caught ? Then, with 
 his scalp, we will go on to the white settlement, lie 
 in wait, as he did at Fort Harmar, and one by one 
 we will pick off the white cowards, steal their women 
 and children, and teach them what it is to set a 
 man free after he has murdered so many of our 
 braves." 
 
 " Humph !" grunted the chorus, but did not appear 
 
 very much impressed. 
 
 The fire was warm and grateful, and supper had 
 29 
 
338 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 been very tasteful. They relapsed into silence. Then 
 there came a stretching out of one of them, and a 
 second one slept. A few minutes more, and another, 
 the third, followed the example of the other two, 
 and only three remained awake. 
 
 " Shall we roast Wetzel?" asked one of these.. 
 
 Wetzel leaned down from the loft to catch the 
 answer. 
 
 " We will half-roast him," was the reply. 
 
 "We will then skin him, perhaps?" 
 
 " We will treat him as half-roasted Crawford was 
 treated by Captain Pipe." 
 
 "Good!" came the grunting reply; "we have' 
 much to remain awake for." 
 
 " Good !" said the other two. 
 
 A minute's silence was enough to allow of a fourth 
 brave sliding forward into the warm ashes of the 
 fire fast asleep. 
 
 Only two were left awake, sitting bunched up 
 about the flame, their backs towards the entrance to 
 the loft. 
 
 " I had a dream last night," began one of them in 
 a low monotonous voice; "I dreamed I was in the 
 happy hunting-ground, my lodge filled with white- 
 faced squaws, each with coal-black eyes and a cheek 
 red as the bison's blood." 
 
 " Good I" grunted the other. " I often have that 
 
THE HUT IN THE STOBM. 339 
 
 dream. I, too, dreamed last night that a snake 
 stung me on the heel, and it turned to a coal of fire 
 when I trampled on it with my bare feet. I had 
 put my foot in the flame in my sleep." 
 
 " Ugh !" 
 
 They bundled themselves up closer, their eyes 
 sleepily fixed on the fire, and rocked their bodies 
 slowly to and fro. 
 
 Noiselessly Wetzel lowered himself from the loft, 
 his eyes fixed upon the two, his long, keen knife 
 between his teeth. 
 
 They did not perceive him ; they had ceased rock- 
 ing their bodies — they were asleep. 
 
 Noiselessly the scout crawled over the prostrate 
 forms on the floor, and so gained the door-way and 
 the wrack of the storm. Once one of the sleeping 
 Indians moved, and the scout thought he was dis- 
 covered. He paused for an instant to ascertain if 
 this were the fact. But the savage only turned in 
 his sleep, and was now snoring. Wetzel gained the 
 door-way. 
 
 "Must I go sneaking away? Must I let these 
 men who are seeking my life go on with their 
 brutal quest ?" he asked himself. " No, I cannot do 
 that. And then the dreams of those two !" 
 
 He hid himself behind a log at some little dis- 
 tance from the door, and resolved to wait all night 
 there. 
 
340 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 The storm was at its height, and terrified animals 
 came and sniffed at his hiding-place jealous of his 
 safety. A wolf came up to him and whined pite- 
 ously in his ear, then turned and plunged into the 
 vortex of water that flowed roaring across the land 
 below. The light from the ruined cabin showed the 
 water like ruby wine, and Wetzel could see the 
 draggled wolf struggling in the eddies that bore 
 him on, yelping his death-cry, and buffeting the 
 water with his fast diminishing strength. 
 
 All night this storm raged, the like of which had 
 rarely been experienced there. And soaked in 
 water, but holding his rifle and ammunition close 
 up to his skin to protect them from the weather, 
 Wetzel waited until day-break. In the morning the 
 storm had passed away, leaving ruin and devasta- 
 tion in its track. Huge trees were overturned, 
 countless birds lay dead and strewn upon the 
 ground. The ruined cabin looked as though it were 
 upon an island, the water had so sloughed deep 
 passage-ways on all sides of it. The wonder was 
 that the ramshackle place had held out. But so it 
 is; forest trees which task all a man's strength and 
 ingenuity to uproot and tear apart succumb to the 
 fury of the storm which tears them apart into 
 fibrous masses. But the handiwork of frail man 
 who could not move the tree, still dominated by 
 
THE HUT IN THE STORM. ' §41 
 
 that feeble strength and giant ingenuity, withstands 
 hurricane and natural phenomena against which all 
 else is powerless and futile. 
 
 In the early dawn the East was blooming into 
 color, and the earth was glad and bright after the 
 overthrow of the night before. But the storm had 
 not washed out man's handiwork, any more than it 
 had washed out from his heart the spirit of crime 
 and the aching for revenge — any more than that 
 storm that settled about that lonely Figure on the 
 Cross and made the earth black with sudden night 
 failed to wipe away the spirit that had placed the 
 Crucified One there and did not tremble for the 
 enormous crime. 
 
 In the early morning, from that dismantled cabin 
 in the ruined place, stepped forth the tall form of a 
 savage. He stretched up both his arms, yawned 
 ecstatically, and seemed to take in a deep inspiration 
 of the invigorating air. 
 
 The next instant there was the sharp snap of a 
 rifle, the Indian fell heavily to the ground, and with 
 the smoking gun in his hand, Wetzel was darting 
 through the sodden wood, secure from pursuit. 
 
 " I could not leave them all" he said. 
 
 For hours, in all bodily distress, had he lain there 
 to accomplish this one task — to send a soul to its 
 reckoning unasked by its Maker. 
 
342 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 His own would have gone had he been caught, 
 and this, in his eyes, and in the eyes of people 
 belonging to a late generation, was sufficient to 
 exonerate him from any accusation of guilt. That 
 he might have escaped, was not the thing; his 
 enemy and he could not live on the same earth at 
 the same time ; the wide world is not wide enough 
 for the man who knows that among the millions of 
 men around him is one who seeks to strip him of 
 his life, and who never forgets, in all the distrac- 
 tions which that wide world and its millions of other 
 men hold out to him, that he will not have sufficient 
 room until there is one man less, and he can go 
 through the million miles, among the million men, 
 conscious that there is no chance of coming face to 
 face with the only one whose living is a reproach to 
 him and the crying evil of his times. 
 
THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. 
 
 "P VERY WHERE that Lewis Wetzel now went the 
 story of his arrest and detention seemed to have 
 preceded him, and made him one of the foremost 
 men of the rude places wdiere he had not been known 
 before. The principle of the settlers in common 
 was the principle of every man in particular; and 
 Wetzel had vindicated that principle, and he alone. 
 And so w^as Wetzel elevated to a height of heroism 
 W'hich was as irksome to himself as it was extrava- 
 gant in its premises. 
 
 The vast number of scalps he had taken proved 
 his invincible courage, as well as his prowess in 
 war; the persecutions and sufferings by which he 
 had been pursued by General Harmar secured for 
 him the sympathy of the frontiermen. The higher 
 he was esteemed, the lower sank the character of 
 General Harmar with the fiery spirits of the fron- 
 tier. 
 
 Had General Harmar possessed a tithe of the 
 courage, skill, and indomitable energy of Wetzel, 
 
344 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 the gallant soldiers under his command in the 
 memorable and disastrous campaign against the 
 Miamis might have shared a different fate. 
 
 The estimation in which the scout was held, how- 
 ever, may, to the casual reader, appear to be the 
 admiration of a wild set of men for one wilder than 
 themselves. The heroism of the man may seem to 
 disappear under the almost unnatural ferociousness 
 of his enmity, and it may be adjudged that, in 
 wreaking an almost insane revenge, the better parts 
 of manly nature were blunted and obscured, and 
 that religion, the most noble characteristic of a 
 noble character, had little share in his being. 
 
 That he was not without religion is plainly proved, 
 I think ; that is, that his religion partook more of 
 that which the Old Testament inculcates, — that of 
 stern determination that a criminal must suffer for 
 his crime. And yet he was loved by little children, 
 'and the simplicity of his helpfulness was such that 
 other men looked upon him as a tower of strength, 
 and scarcely knew what, besides his recklessness, 
 drew them towards him. 
 
 The contradictions in his character may prove the 
 kind of religion his was. His boyhood had been 
 dwarfed, the only being he ever truly loved had 
 been torn from him and murdered before his eyes 
 at a time of his life when he was most impression- 
 
THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. 345 
 
 able, and might as easily be swayed by wrong as 
 by right. 
 
 Looking dispassionately upon a life like his, at 
 this wide separation from it and its living causes 
 for impulse and at this time of ease and safety, 
 the wonder seems to consist in the fact that 
 from that boy grew up a man with the honorable 
 intentions of Lewis AVetzel — that he did not, by 
 reason of his love and its overthrow, sink below the 
 level and become an outlaw in the truest sense of 
 the word. 
 
 Instead of which, are there many who wdll call 
 him a bad man? "By their fruits ye shall know 
 them." The fruits in Lewis Wetzel's case w^ere not 
 perfect, being of human origin; but from those 
 fruits came surer protection to the settlers, and 
 turned the eyes of the country upon white man and 
 Indian alike, arguing better treatment for both ; for 
 the settlers w^ere not treated as they had a right to 
 expect, and wdiich the urgency of their cases de- 
 manded. They were settling an almost irreclaim- 
 able country, and no means but their own personal 
 exertions were given them, and even these exertions 
 were some times cramped by unmeaning authority 
 in high places. 
 
 Shortly after his return from Kentucky, a relative 
 of Lewis Wetzel, living on Dunkard Creek, came to 
 
346 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the settlement where the scout was and invited him 
 to go home with him on a visit. 
 
 The man was not used to houses, nor did he love 
 them any more, and the ties of blood seemed weak 
 in him, in his care for communities. But this was 
 a relative of his father, so he accepted the invitation. 
 They made their way on foot,- hunting as they went. 
 Wetzel had been silent one day for a long time. At 
 last he said, as they rested on a log : 
 
 " Simon, I doubt if I shall go all the way with 
 you, my lad." 
 
 "What, Wetzel," cried the young fellow, "and 
 after all my preparation for you? Do you know I 
 have gathered all these birds purposely for you ?" 
 
 "Forme?" 
 
 " Yes, I want you to see how Tilly can cook." 
 
 " Tilly I Who is that ?" asked Wetzel. 
 
 "Was there ever such a man!" cried the young 
 man. "Here I have been talking of Tilly, Tilly, 
 Tilly, and nothing but Tilly, all the way, and you 
 do not know who she is. Did you not know it was 
 a young woman?" 
 
 " Old women can be named Tilly, too, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " But young men won't talk quite so much about 
 old Tillies as I have been talking. Can't you guess 
 who she is?" 
 
THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. ; 347 
 
 " Maybe your sister. Maybe you told me you had 
 a sister !" 
 
 " Maybe somebody else's sister. Upon my word, 
 Wetzel, you are a regular ludian in your refusal to 
 ask questions. It is not such an easy matter for a 
 man who meets another man for the first time — and 
 you are almost a stranger to me — to tell him that 
 he is going to be married. Yes, Tilly will be my 
 wife. I wanted to surprise you when you saw her ; 
 such a beauty as she is. I suppose you know a 
 beautiful woman when you see one ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know." 
 
 " Don't know! Then you are a heathen !'^ 
 
 " Nay, Simon," said Wetzel in a softened voice, for 
 he was always in sympathy with tender minded 
 men, " there has been too much said about my being 
 a heathen. I am only anything rather than a 
 heathen — I am only a weak man like other men, 
 like you; and like other men, strong physically, my 
 bodily excellence often makes me seem mentally 
 deficient. People too often associate religion with 
 weakness. Whatever my beliefs or disbeliefs may 
 be, I am never a heathen. Perhaps those with the 
 strongest faith are not always those who speak 
 often est of it.^' 
 
 " But you take so little interest in men and their 
 doings." 
 
348 . LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "It may be, and it may not be. I take little 
 interest in my own doings. I am impelled forward 
 to do the work of my life, and I do it ; some power 
 within me urges me on; what it is I know not. I 
 only know that the power is there, and that I cannot 
 gainsay it. There are so many things that urge us 
 against even our own convictions; so I am sure you 
 will not judge me harshly here. And now tell me 
 about the young woman — Tilly. When shall you 
 be married? How can I help you and her? Have 
 you a house to take her in ?" 
 
 "Now^, that's something like," cried the young 
 fellow. " If there's anything I despise it is to talk 
 on and on about the woman I love, and have people 
 look and act as though she were just like other 
 women. No woman with a lover is just like other 
 women. Two married women are precisely alike, 
 as all men are precisely alike. But a young woman 
 who loves a man for the first time is unlike any- 
 thing on the earth, though there be millions of 
 young women that are in the same pickle with her- 
 self. The pickle is the same, the young women are 
 not. Don't you see?" 
 
 " If I fail to see, it is not your fault, Simon ; and 
 maybe I appreciate pickles better than I do women. 
 And yet a women to me is something sacred. And 
 once there was a time when I could have——. But 
 go on, go on." 
 
THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. 349 
 
 So in the green wood, with a soft accompaniment 
 of bird-£ongs and whispering leaves, there was heard 
 a lengthy dissertation on the excellences of the 
 3^ou ng woman to whose house the lover was bearing 
 his cousin, the scout. 
 
 With patience and attention Wetzel listened, being 
 careful to comment and ask questions that brought 
 wordy answers, and altogether redeemed himself in 
 the eyes of his companion. 
 
 Then, the tale over for the time, they proceeded 
 onward, shooting a few more birds further to test 
 the culinary accomplishments of the lady under 
 discussion. 
 
 When they were but one day's journey from her 
 home, the lover was all impatience to go forward. 
 No more stopping to talk, no more stopping for moro 
 birds; they must go onward, and rapidly. Wetzel, 
 yielding to the importunities of his companion, 
 struck out with him. Towards sundown they neared 
 a clearing. Wetzel's eyes were fixed on the ground, 
 
 " What do you see, Wetzel," asked the young 
 man. 
 
 " Nothing of much account," was the answer. 
 " Have we much further to go?" 
 
 " Only a short distance," cried the enraptured 
 lover, " and then you will see such a sight. A little 
 cottage overhung with vines, a bird in a cage at the 
 30 
 
3.50 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 door, a snow-white curtain floating from the window, 
 and at the gate, waiting for me, a brown-eyed girl, 
 shading her eyes with her hands, and searching the 
 hills for her lover. A hundred more steps, and we 
 will be out of the woods, and then you will see 
 it all." 
 
 But Wetzel's eyes were still anxiously fixed on the 
 ground. He did not raise them till they were out of 
 the woods, and then a wild shriek from the lover 
 caused him to look up. 
 
 Where was the vine-hung cottage, with its bird- 
 cage and snowy curtain? Where was the brown- 
 eyed girl facing the sunset ? There was nothing bat 
 a pile of smoking ruins ! 
 
 •The lover had fallen to the ground. Wetzel like- 
 wise fell to the ground, but only to examine the 
 trail that had attracted his eyes so long in the woods. 
 He arose again, and shook the prostrate man to his 
 feet. 
 
 " Be a man," he said sternly. 
 
 " A man !" echoed the other, turning stony eyes 
 upon the scout, " I will be a devil. I will search, 
 these Indians to their lair and never rest till " 
 
 " You have recovered your bride. Don't be too 
 rash in your threats. It may not be so bad as you 
 think. There have not been Indians alone here; 
 this trail proves that three Indians and one white 
 man took away the captive." 
 
THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. 351 
 
 " Then there is a little hope." 
 
 "Not from the white man. Come, we will go, 
 there is nothing to keep us here." 
 
 " Nothing," groaned the young man, " and yet it 
 was everything." 
 
 Placing himself under the control of Wetzel, the 
 two strode on, hoping to come up to the enemy 
 before they had crossed the Ohio ; the yet smoking 
 ruins proving the capture to have taken place that 
 same day. But it was found, after proceeding a 
 short distance, that the savages had carefully 
 obliterated their trail. 
 
 " That is the cursed spite of the red devils," cried 
 the young man. 
 
 " Rather it is the work of the white man," said 
 Wetzel. "But do not despair; a villainous white 
 man is no match for one who knows the Indians' 
 cunning. Come, I have a plan. Follow me, and 
 keep up a brave hope." 
 
 He spoke more hopefully, perhaps, than he felt, 
 but he feared for the sanity of his companion, and 
 he resolved to save him if he could, although the 
 young girl might never be recovered. He also 
 knew that the depredators w^ould make for the river 
 by the most expeditious route, and, therefore, he 
 disregarded the trail and pushed on to intercept 
 them at the crossing-place. 
 
352 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Oh, my dear could never go so far," groaned 
 the lover. 
 
 " She could if she were forced to do so," calmly 
 said Wetzel. 
 
 "Who would dare to force her?" asked the lover, 
 on fire on the instant. 
 
 " That is right," commented Wetzel. " Only keep 
 up that spirit and quit driveling and you may be 
 of some service to the woman whom you think and 
 almost constantly say you love." 
 
 " The woman I say I love !" 
 
 " Yes ; I only have your word for it, you have not 
 demonstrated the fact." 
 
 Then, without waiting for another word, he pushed 
 on. After an hour or so of hard travel they struck 
 a path which the deer had made, and which their 
 sagacity had taught them to carry over knolls in 
 order to avoid the long curves of ravines. 
 
 Thus the pursuers had an unexpected advantage 
 over the wretches they pursued. Wetzel followed 
 the deer-path because he knew that it would event- 
 ually prove to lead in almost a direct line to the 
 point for which he was aiming. Night came down 
 in all its starlit beauty; but the very beauty of it 
 seemed to lead one of the men to the confines of 
 despair. 
 
 " Such nights we were always on the porch in 
 front of the house," he mourned. 
 
THE STOBY OF THE LOVERS. 353 
 
 "And you shall be again," said Wetzel. "And 
 now eat this," and he offered some food from his 
 pocket. 
 
 "Eat at such a time as this!" cried the other, 
 spurning the morsel. 
 
 " Then don't do it, and have no strength left for 
 the preservation of the woman you love." 
 
 The young man took the food and ate it, and 
 together they spurred onward, until about midnight, 
 when a heavy cloud obscured the heavens, and they 
 could follow the path no longer. 
 
 " We shall have to rest until the morning," said 
 Wetzel. 
 
 "Oh, my dear, my dear!" returned the lover. 
 " Will it ever be morning again for you and me ?" 
 
 The night was passed in miserable watching, not 
 a word on either side. With the first break of day 
 Wetzel looked at his companion, and noted a change 
 in him. There was a new determination in his face, 
 a look of dignity which the stars last night had not 
 seen there. 
 
 A rosy pencil of light, tingeing the tops of the 
 highest trees, seemed to point the way to them like 
 a finger from heaven. The young man fell on his 
 knees and prayed, and Wetzel bowed his head. The 
 young man arose and came to him. 
 
 " I have seldom prayed," he said calml}^ " but my 
 
354 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 dear told me she always did when she was in any 
 difficulty or danger. I know that wherever she was 
 last night she was thinking of me and praying 
 for me; wherever she is at this moment her eyes 
 are raised above, and she is asking for divine guid- 
 ance and support. I prayed all last night that I 
 might be in communion with her, that my words 
 might meet hers in their flight to heaven, and be 
 assisted by hers to reach the throne of mercy. Now 
 let us go on." 
 
 Wetzel, still with bowed head, pressed the hand 
 of his friend, and then the two resumed the chase. 
 
 After descending from the elevated ridge along 
 which they had been passing for an hour or two, 
 they found themselves in a- deep and quiet valley, 
 which looked as though human steps had never 
 before pressed its virgin soil. 
 
 Traveling a short distance, they discovered fresh 
 footsteps in the soil. But the eyes of love saw more 
 than this ; the lover it was who now fell to his knees 
 and regarded the tracks, crying gladly: 
 
 " She has been here, she has been here I Here is 
 the mark of a little shoe with nail-heads around the 
 little heel." 
 
 He leaned down and kissed the print of the little 
 shoe in the leafy soil. Hoar after hour the pursuit 
 was kept up, now tracing the trail across hills, 
 
THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. 355 
 
 through valleys, and often detecting it where the 
 wily captors had taken to the beds of streams. Late 
 in the afternoon they found themselves coming 
 nearer to the Ohio, and shortly after dark discovered, 
 as they struck the river, the camp of the enemy 
 upon the opposite side, and just below the mouth of 
 the Captina. 
 
 "Can you swim?" asked Wetzel, turning to his 
 companion. 
 
 But the young men was already in the water, 
 plunging boldly out for the opposite shore. 
 
 Wetzel sprang in after him, and they soon reached 
 the point of their destination. 
 
 They reconnoitered the position of the camp, and 
 discovered, they thought, the locality of the captive. 
 Wetzel proposed waiting till daylight before making 
 an attack. 
 
 "Wait!" cried the lover, "what can the word 
 mean to her in the hands of those red devils?" 
 
 " I don't fear for her safety with the red cusses as 
 much as I do with the white man. A white man 
 on friendly terms with these marauding Indians 
 is worse than a devil; he is a depraved saint," 
 returned Wetzel. 
 
 " But I cannot wait until day." 
 
 " You must. You have got to be as wary as your 
 enemy. Make an attempt to-night, and the chances 
 
356 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 are that the first load you fire you will disperse the 
 red-skins, and find your lady love " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "A corpse! If the Indians would not murder 
 her, the white man with them will." 
 
 Shuddering, the lover acceded to the scout's sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 Another sleepless night ushered in a hopeful 
 morning. 
 
 At early dawn the savages were up preparing to 
 leave, when Wetzel said : 
 
 " Take good aim at the white man, he is your 
 worst enemy. I will look out for my beloved 
 Indians." 
 
 Before the words were out of his lips the young 
 fellow was sighting his enemy. 
 
 " Careful, careful," cautioned Wetzel, " don't for 
 the life of you miss him. For your lady-love let 
 your shot be. Now !" 
 
 They fired at the same moment, and each brought 
 down his man. 
 
 But here the lover threw down his gun, rushed 
 forward, and was met by the frightened creature he 
 sought, while the two remaining Indians took to the 
 woods. 
 
 Wetzel, with a frown on his face, stepped apart 
 from the two lovers — for what had he to do with 
 these things ? 
 
THE STORY OF THE LOVERS. 357 
 
 "I have no time for love — I dare not have," he 
 muttered, " or I should fail of my intention and 
 become gentle." 
 
 He threw out his arm towards a settlement of 
 whites wuthin half a mile, and called to the raptur- 
 ous young man : 
 
 " That is your way ; go seek it." 
 
 "But, Wetzel, come here," was the glad cry in 
 reply. 
 
 Wetzel, keeping his head averted, answered : 
 
 "My way lies in another direction. Farewell!" 
 and he strode into the wood after the two fleeing 
 Indians. 
 
 He reloaded his gun, and, failing in his search, 
 fired his rifle at random to draw the Indians from 
 their retreat. The ruse succeeded, and they rushed 
 from their covert of trees and made after him with 
 uplifted tomahawks, and yelling at the top of their 
 voices. 
 
 But Wetzel soon had loaded his rifle in his old 
 fashion, and suddenly wheeling around he dis- 
 charged its contents into the body of his nearest 
 pursuer. The other Indian now rushed forward, 
 thinking to dispatch his enemy immediately, but 
 Wetzel kept dodging from tree to tree, and being 
 more fleet than the Indian managed to keep ahead 
 until his unerring rifle was once more loaded, when 
 
358 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 turning, he fired, and the last of the party lay dead 
 before him. 
 
 He walked about for a little while, then, drawn by 
 an irresistible impulse, he drew towards the open 
 space where he had left the lovers. Far off, radi- 
 antly illuminated by the early morning sun, he 
 could see them going lovingly along towards the 
 settlement, the arm of the lover supporting the 
 clinging girl. Long he looked at them, a soft 
 expression on his dark face. Then he turned away. 
 
 " It is not for me," he said softly. " This must be 
 my only love and bride," and hugged his trusty 
 rifle to his breast. 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. \ 869 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Wetzel's brothers. 
 
 A FEW words may not be out of place here regard- 
 ing Lewis Wetzel's brothers. For though the 
 scout was the most prominent member of the family, 
 and the one in whom hatred for their common 
 enemies rankled most strongly, yet the other brothers 
 were not behindhand in bravery, though they earlier 
 settled down to rest and enjoyed the comforts of a 
 fix6d home which appears to have ever been denied 
 the scout. They w^ere nearer to the habitation of 
 their mother and sisters, and thought more of the 
 progressive spirit of the West and availed themselves 
 of the many opportunities to become landed pro- 
 prietors, holding their possessions by lawful fee- 
 simple, and in many ways may be accounted 
 shrewder men than their brother, who in time 
 became almost a stranger to them. 
 
 Their sisters looked up to them and almost forgot 
 at times that somew^here in the wilds roved a dis- 
 contented spirit in whose veins flowed the same 
 blood, and that he protected them afar off as effectu- 
 
380 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 ally as the stout brothers who were ever within call 
 in time of need. 
 
 Leaving Lewis Wetzel for a little while, and con- 
 fining our story to the other members of his family 
 for the length of one short chapter, it will be found 
 that the hard school which reared the scout might 
 reckon his brothers as adepts in its teachings with 
 small fear of a loss of honor when they were 
 entrusted with the care of its worthy reputation. 
 
 It would appear that their mother, having dis- 
 carded the son who came into these wilds a babe at 
 her breast as thoroughly incorrigible and deaf to 
 the calls of maternal affection, lavished on the 
 remaining children a greater love than had hitherto 
 been theirs — almost as though she expended upon 
 them the share that had once been their brother's, 
 his who wandered through the wilderness an Ishmael 
 whom Ilager had grown tired of when he any 
 longer refused to abide with her. 
 
 Before her second marriage the mother of the 
 "VVetzels never stirred abroad without having one 
 of her sons with her, and her fretful, broken manner 
 was compensated for in the great look of trust and 
 dependence the strapping fellow at her side was ever 
 receiving from her anxious and fear-stricken eyes. 
 
 They went on expeditions, and she shuddered for 
 their fate, while she could not withhold them from 
 what she knew was their duty. 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 361 
 
 The first of these expeditions relating to John 
 Wetzel may be chronicled here, not because of its 
 show of extraordinary bravery on his part, but that 
 there may be a further example of the difference 
 between the brothers. Lewis brooked no inter- 
 ference with his plans and mode of life, while the 
 others viewed any divergence from the law they had 
 laid dow^n to govern them but as a contingency 
 which must be met, and, if it could not be thwarted, 
 then to be turned aside to do as little damage as 
 possible. 
 
 Late in the spring of 1786, John Wetzel, who was 
 then about sixteen years of age, coming into his 
 home one day was met by his sister who informed 
 him that a lot of horses had gone astray in the 
 woods, and among them a mare and its foal which 
 had been given to her. 
 
 " You can have the colt, if you get the mare for 
 me," she said. 
 
 "All right," was the jubilant answer, and the 
 young fellow bounded off. 
 
 He sought a companion of his own age, one of 
 the hardy boys of the time, and together they w^ent 
 to the w^oods on Wheeling Creek. For hours they 
 hunted for the mare and colt, and their search was 
 unavailing, till all at once John Wetzel cried to his 
 companion : 
 31 
 
362 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "Hist! I hear a bell." 
 
 The other listened intently. 
 
 ^' You are mistaken," he said, " it is the creek 
 washing over tlie roots of a tree." 
 
 "I am not mistaken," asseverated John Wetzel, 
 " for I would know our bells among a thousand." 
 
 And so he would. For the settlers who turned 
 their beasts adrift for forage always placed bells on 
 their necks, and so acute had become their sense of 
 hearing that the tinkle of the bells belonging to 
 their own cattle was never mistaken for that of a 
 neighbor's, and, from a herd of animals of the 
 same color and size, the careful housewife or her 
 children could pick out their own cattle by touching 
 the various bells, with very little danger of making 
 the slightest mistake, for each settler trusted this 
 part of the management of his clearing to his wife 
 and children. 
 
 And young John Wetzel had not been mistaken 
 in this instance, for he had, indeed, heard the faint 
 tinkle of the bell about the neck of his sister's mare. 
 
 " Follow me," he said to his friend, " and we'll see 
 who is mistaken." 
 
 They went through the wood, in another direc- 
 tion, for a considerable length of time. 
 
 "Queer!" said John Wetzel. "Bess could not 
 have traveled this far since I heard the bell. She 
 knows my voice, too. Ho ! Bess, Bess, Bess !" 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 363 
 
 He stopped to await the result of his calling, but 
 all was quiet once more. Then again came the soft 
 tinkle of the bell, and the lads spurred onward. 
 The bell sounded now quite close. 
 
 "Hurrah!" shouted John Wetzel; "the colt is 
 mine," and made for a close covert of dense trees, 
 where he heard the bell plain enough. 
 
 He got there only to find it empty of any beast, 
 
 and the bell tinkled in another direction. 
 
 » 
 
 " Strange," he muttered. 
 
 " It almost seems as though the bell was leading 
 us deeper into the w^ood, and for a purpose," said his 
 companion, startled and pausing. 
 
 " Come on," cried John Wetzel, for the Wetzels 
 paid little attention to timely warning in those 
 days. 
 
 And the two boys followed the bell that, like an 
 ignis-fatuus, led them first into one direction, then 
 into another, but leading all the time further and 
 further away from the white settlements. 
 
 For the mare and her colt had been come across 
 by a party of marauding Indians and tethered in a 
 thicket, while the bell was detached from the mare's 
 neck and tied to the wrist of a brave, who led the 
 way for the Indians through the under-brush, tink- 
 ling the bell at intervals, well knowing that the 
 white settler to whom the beasts belonged w^ould 
 
364 LEWIS WETZEL, 
 
 come in early search of them, and would depend 
 upon the sound of the bell to find them. Thus 
 the red-skins soon saw the two boys in search 
 of the missing creatures, and by the sound of the 
 bell they led them into a place of security, where 
 they might easily be captured without any fear of 
 intervention on the part of any rescuing party of the 
 whites. 
 
 The horse was ever a favorite object of plunder 
 with the savages, as not only facilitating his own 
 escape from pursuit, but also assisting him in carry- 
 ing off the spoil. 
 
 Into the very heart of the forest these two boys 
 were led by the tinkling of the well-known bell, 
 and they were congratulating themselves upon the 
 rescue of »the animals, when there sprang out from 
 the shade four stalwart Indians, who immediately 
 bound the boys with cords. 
 
 John, in attempting to escape, was shot through 
 the arm. On their march to the Ohio his companion 
 made so much lamentation and moaning on account 
 of his captivity that the Indians dispatched him 
 with their tomahawks. 
 
 The party struck tlie Ohio River early the follow- 
 ing morning, at a point near the mouth of Grave 
 Creek, and just below the clearing of a Mr. Tomlin- 
 son. Here they found some hogs, and killing one 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 365 
 
 of them with a rifle, put the carcass into a canoe 
 they had stolen. 
 
 Three of the Indians took possession of the canoe 
 with their boy prisoner, while the other Indian was 
 busied in swimming the horses across the river. It 
 so happened that Isaac Williams, Hamilton Carr, 
 and Jacob, a Dutchman, had come down that morn- 
 ing from Wheeling to look after the cattle and hogs 
 left at the deserted settlement at the mouth of the 
 creek. 
 
 While at the outlet of Little Grave Creek, about 
 a mile above, they heard the report of a rifle in the 
 direction of the plantation. 
 
 " Dod rot 'em !" exclaimed Williams ; " a Kentuck 
 boat has landed at the creek, and they are shooting 
 my hogs." 
 
 Immediately quickening their pace to a smart 
 trot, they in a few minutes were within a short dis- 
 tance of the creek, when they heard the loud snort 
 of a horse. 
 
 Carr being in the prime of life, and younger than 
 Williams, was several rods ahead, and reached the 
 bank in advance of the others. 
 
 As he looked down into the creek, he saw three 
 Indians standing in a canoe ; one was in the stern, 
 one in the bow, and one in the middle of the boat. 
 At the feet of the latter lay four rifles and a dead 
 
366 LB WIS WETZEL, 
 
 hog ; while a fourth Indian was swimming a horse 
 across the Ohio, a few rods from the shore. The one 
 in the stern had his paddle in the edge of the water, 
 in the act of turning and shoving the canoe from the 
 mouth of the creek into the river. 
 
 Before they were aware of his presence, Carr drew 
 up and shot the Indian in the stern of the boat, and 
 he instantly fell into the water. 
 
 The crack of his rifle had scarcely ceased when 
 Williams came on to the bank and shot the Indian 
 in the bow of the canoe, who also fell overboard, 
 as Jacob came up. Carr dropped his own rifle, and 
 seizing that of the Dutchman, shot the remaining 
 Indian who stood in the waist of the boat. He fell 
 over into the water, but still held on to the side of 
 the canoe with one hand. So amazed had been the 
 last Indian at. the fall of his companions, that he 
 never offered to lift one of the rifles, which lay at his 
 feet, in self-defense, but acted like one bereft of his 
 senses. 
 
 By this time the canoe, impelled by the impetus 
 given to it by the first Indian, had reached the 
 current of the Ohio, and was some rods below the 
 mouth of the creek. 
 
 Carr now reloaded his own gun, and, seeing 
 another man lying in the bottom of the canoe, 
 raised it to his face in the act of firing, when he in 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 367 
 
 the bottom of the canoe, seeing the movement, 
 called out : 
 
 " Don't shoot, I am a white man." 
 
 Carr told him to knock loose the Indian's hand 
 from the side of the canoe and paddle to the shore. 
 
 In reply, he said his arm was broken, and that 
 he could not. The current, however, set it near 
 some rocks not far from land, on to which he jumped 
 and waded out. 
 
 " Bless my soul !" cried Williams, " if it ain't one 
 o* John Wetzel's boys." 
 
 "It's only John, junior," answered the wounded 
 lad, and fell in a faint from the pain in his arm. 
 
 Carr now aimed his rifle at the Indian on horse- 
 back, who by this time had reached the middle of 
 the Ohio. 
 
 The shot struck near him, splashing the water on 
 to his naked skin. 
 
 The Indian, seeing the fate of his companions, 
 with the bravery of an ancient Spartan, immediately 
 slipped from the back of the horse, and swam for 
 the abandoned canoe, in which were the rifles of 
 the v/hole four warriors. This was in fact an act of 
 necessity as w^ell as of noble daring, as he well knew 
 he could not reach his country without the means 
 of killing game by the way. 
 
 He gained possession of the canoe unmolested, 
 
868 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 crossed with the arms to his own side .of the Ohio, 
 mounted the captive horse which had swum to the 
 Indian shore, and; with a yell of defiance, escaped 
 into the woods. The canoe was turned adrift to 
 spite his enemies, and was taken up near Maysville, 
 the dead hog which had been the means of the 
 rescue of the white boy still in it. 
 
 The whole of this story is here given, and almost 
 entirely in the exact words of^ the chronicle, as 
 proving being both interesting and more compressed 
 than most of the stories that have reached us in the 
 verbatim reports of the settlers, who often added to 
 their own personal knowledge of a matter the argu- 
 ments of any chance settler who came in and proved 
 that he knew as much as the original reporter, only 
 his knowledge was a little fuller and totally at vari- 
 ance with the first man's. 
 
 There is a little story of John Wetzel, "junior," 
 meeting a little Indian papoose tied up in its birch- 
 bark box and lying upon the ground in the woods, 
 its mother not being in sight. The boy looked at 
 the grave-eyed child lying in his path, and thought 
 it would be a good plan to steal it. He caught it up 
 and, hugging it closely to him, bore it out of the 
 wood. It kept its great fawn-like eyes on him, and 
 smiled in his face. He bore it on and gained the 
 outer rim of the wood. Here he was confronted by 
 a squaw who held out her arins for the child. 
 
, WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 369 
 
 "Mine," she said. "Squaw followed white boy 
 with papoose out of the woods." 
 
 Without a word the boy handed her the child, 
 which she eagerly took, raised it above her head and 
 dashed it to the ground, a dead and bleeding thing. 
 
 She had no sooner done the fiendish act, when 
 another squaw a-ppeared upon the scene, distraught 
 and wild. 
 
 " My papoose," she cried. 
 
 She saw it lying upon the ground, and wailed 
 and threw herself beside it in a paroxysm of grief. 
 
 All the time the other squaw was looking on 
 unmoved. 
 
 Then the grieving one raised herself to her feet 
 again, and turned her blood-shot eyes upon the pair 
 of human beings regarding her, 
 
 " Who did that?" she said coldly. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 " White boy did not," she went on ; " you did," 
 turning to the squaw. 
 
 The one accused did not change her position, 
 standing there gazing calmly at her accuser. 
 
 " Did you kill his child because he loved me and 
 did not love you ?" asked the mother-squaw^, going 
 to her and standing menacingly before her. 
 
 The other clearly foresaw a murderous attack, and 
 made no attempt to ward it off, but smiled in the 
 eyes of the w^oman she had so wronged. 
 
G70 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " Kill me !" she said at length ; " kill me ! I do uot 
 want to live. I have not wanted to live since j^ou 
 loved him; kill me, and spare not. Yes, I killed 
 the child ; I killed it because I love its father, not 
 because he loves you. I killed it so that I may be 
 killed. Thus do I punish the man who does not 
 love me." 
 
 The mother stepped back from her, and moved 
 away. * 
 
 " Well," cried the other, " what will you do to me? 
 I w^ill make no defense. Kill me." 
 
 " Live !" said the mother in a hollow voice ; " live! 
 If you kill to punish those you love — then live !" 
 
 And, noticing not the body of her child, she 
 turned on her heel and disappeared in the forest. 
 
 The other woman appeared as though petrified 
 for an instant, and gazed with eyes, where little 
 speculation lingered, in the direction the woman she 
 had wronged had gone. Then, seeming to realize 
 the position, and casting her eyes upon the ground, 
 with a great burst of passionate grief she threw her- 
 self beside the little form and. caught it to her, hug- 
 ging it close, rocking it to and fro, wailing in a 
 grief-stricken tone, and punished more effectually 
 than death ever punishes when it avenges an evil 
 act. The boy, comprehending enough to be rooted 
 to the spot, witnessed a little longer the abandon- 
 
WETZEIJS BROTHERS. 371 
 
 ment of the woman, and then the full horror of the 
 scene came before him and enlightened him with 
 its inmost meaning. Edging a little away from 
 the woman holding the dead child, yet his eyes set 
 upon her, at last, by a supreme effort, he broke the 
 fascination that held him, and with a wild cry of 
 fear turned and fled from the spot, that scene forever 
 stamped upon his brain. 
 
 I find that years elapse before any very striking 
 adventure of any of the brothers of the scout are 
 spoken of after the one above mentioned. 
 
 But in the year 1791, or possibly 1792, the Indians 
 having made frequent and disastrous incursions 
 into the settlements of the whites along the Ohio 
 River, between the town of Wheeling and the Mingo 
 Bottom, sometimes murdering entire families, at 
 other times capturing them and taking them away 
 to torture and servitude, again making a raid and 
 capturing all the horses belonging to a station or a 
 fort, a little company of fiercely-determined and 
 insulted men, consisting of John Wetzel, Jr., as he 
 called himself, William McCullough, John Hough, 
 Thomas Biggs, Joseph Hedges, Kinzie Dickerson, 
 and a certain Mr. Linn, rendezvoused at a place 
 called the Beach Bottom, which was on the Ohio 
 River, a few miles below where Wellsburg is now 
 situated. 
 
372 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The avowed object of this little band was to pro- 
 ceed to the Indian town and steal horses, in revenge 
 for the beasts taken from the whites. 
 
 This horse stealing was considered a legal, 
 honorable profession, as there was then open war 
 against the Indians, and it would only be retaliating 
 on them in their own way. 
 
 And possibly the AVestern frontier could at few 
 other times have furnished seven men whose souls 
 were better fitted, and whose nerves and sinews 
 were better strung, to perform any enterprise of 
 hazard which required resolution and firmness. 
 These men, then, after making the scanty adieus 
 vouchsafed to families and friends on undertaking 
 such adventures, proceeded across the Ohio, and 
 went along, with cautious steps and vigilant glances, 
 on their way through the cheerless, black, and almost 
 impenetrable forest in the Indian country, till they 
 came to an Indian town, near where the headwaters 
 of the Sandusky and the Muskingum Eivers inter- 
 lock. 
 
 Here they discovered a paddock, where flowing 
 manes and frisking tails were theirs for the taking. 
 There was no opposition offered, nor did a red-skin 
 put in an appearance. 
 
 They took and tethered fifteen horses, and pre- 
 pared to go off home with their champing freight. 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 373 
 
 They traveled with all rapidity, for they knew how 
 soon the Indian loss would be discovered, and that 
 a pursuit would take place immediately after the 
 loss was found out, making only the shortest halts, 
 to allow their horses to graze, and to throw them- 
 selves down upon the sward to breathe for an 
 instant, to recruit their strength and activity. In 
 the evening of the second day of their rapid retreat 
 they arrived at Wells' Creek, not far from where the 
 busy little town of Cambridge now rears its aspiring 
 and pretty head. Here Linn, one of the seven, was 
 taken ill, and the party were compelled either to 
 stop and administer to his wants or go on and 
 leave him entirely alone to perish in the lonely 
 woods that resounded with the cries of preying 
 animals. 
 
 But they were men of too simple a type to 
 desert one of their number in time of necessity, 
 and selfishness was only to come later when civili- 
 zation made inroads upon the green lengths of 
 wood and field which the first settlers claimed, but 
 were only too often denied by legal measures. 
 
 They, therefore, paused in their homeward stretch, 
 and placed sentinels on their back and trail, who 
 remained until late in the night without perceiving 
 any signs of their being pursued. When midnight 
 had passed, and all was quiet, the sentinels on the 
 
 32 
 
374 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 back trail returned to the camp, where Linn was 
 rolling and tossing in excruciating pain. All the 
 simple remedies in the power of the six pitying 
 men were administered without producing a sen- 
 sible result or diminishing the pain of the sufferer. 
 Their camp was on the back of a small stream, and 
 therefore naturally guarded in one of its approaches •, 
 and, feeling safe from the other three sides, at last 
 worn out, and the sick man sinking into a tempo- 
 rary sleep of exhaustion, they threw themselves 
 upon the ground to snatch a few moments of repose. 
 But one of their party was wakeful, and he consti- 
 tuted himself a guard. 
 
 Just before daylight this guard went to the small 
 stream already mentioned, and, taking a small 
 bucket, dipped up some water out of the run. On 
 carrying the bucket back to the camp-fire, he dis- 
 covered the water to be muddy. The muddy water 
 immediately awakened his suspicion that the red 
 enemy might be approaching them, and might at this 
 instant be walking towards the camp in the midst 
 of the stream, the footsteps coming thus being 
 drowned in the water and rendered noiseless. He 
 aroused the rest of the party, and communicated his 
 suspicions to them. 
 
 They arose, examined the stream a short distance, 
 and listened attentively for quite a protracted time. 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS, . 375 
 
 But neither could they see nor hear anything calcu- 
 lated to alarm them, and they concluded forthwith 
 that it must have been raccoons or some other ani- 
 mals who had swam the stream and stirred it up, 
 and that that accounted for the mud. 
 
 After this conclusion they all lay down again, 
 with the exception of the self-constituted guard, who 
 exclaimed: 
 
 " You can do as you please, but I watch for the 
 balance of the night," and took up his station just 
 outside the light. 
 
 Happily for them, the camp-fire had burned down 
 so low that but a few live coals remained, and 
 offered a dim radiance, merely sufficient to point out 
 where they lay. 
 
 For the mud in the stream had not been occa- 
 sioned by an}^ four-footed denizens of the forest; the 
 enemy had come silently down the little creek, bent 
 on the most ferocious attack on the whites, and were 
 even then far on their way to them, as the sentinel 
 had suspected, and were soon within ten or twelve 
 feet from where they lay, and immediately fired 
 several guns over the bank. 
 
 Linn, the sick man, lying with his side towards the 
 stream, received nearly all the^balls in his body, 
 and was in the position to afford a slight barricade, 
 protecting the others. 
 
876 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 The Indians, after firing once, with tremendous, 
 deafening yells mounted the bank with loaded rifles, 
 tomahawks, and war-clubs, and made for the sur- 
 prised men, who, giving a glance of sleepy protesta- 
 tion, fled dismayed, and without arms, closely pur- 
 sued by the enemy. 
 
 It is sufficient to say that Linn was already killed, 
 and Biggs and Hedges were murdered a few steps 
 outside the camp. 
 
 McCullough ran a short distance further, when he 
 was fired at and fell. But, instead of being pros- 
 trated by a bullet, he had, at the moment of firing, 
 precipitated himself into a quagmire. The Indians, 
 supposing they had killed him, rushed past him in 
 pursuit of the other fleeing men, not caring for his 
 scalp until they had finished the whole party and 
 obtained seven trophies. 
 
 But their feet had scarcely past him, when McCul- 
 lough extricated himself from the quagmire and 
 put off in an opposite direction to that taken by the 
 Indians. When day had fully broken, he fell in 
 with Hough, who had also managed to elude the 
 enemy, and the two made their way, haltingly, and 
 with the direst surmises as to the fate of their less 
 fortunate companions, to Wheeling. 
 
 John Wetzel andKinzie Dickerson had also made 
 a partial escape ; at least the Indians had gone past 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 377 
 
 them where they lay in the under-brush, and were 
 seeking them further on. They could distinctly 
 hear the expression of anger and disappointment 
 w^here they lay in the grass, scarcely daj'ing to 
 breathe. They remained where they had fallen all 
 da}', all the next night. 
 
 At day-break on the second day they heard a tre- 
 mendous tramping; it was the troop of recaptured 
 horses being driven off by the Indians, and arranged 
 in squads and tramping through the grass in order 
 to crush any of the little undiscovered party who 
 might be in hiding there. Miraculously the two 
 men were unharmed ; and waiting till the retreating 
 sounds were hushed entirely, and assuring themselves 
 cautiously that none of the foe remained behind 
 still searching for the escaped men, the two made 
 their way through the grass, foot-sore and nearly 
 famished, on to Wheeling, where they arrived more 
 dead than alive. 
 
 As soon as the stragglers had arrived at Wheeling, 
 Captain John McCullough, collecting a party of 
 m^en, proceeded to Wells' Creek, where they per- 
 formed the funeral rites of the three unfortunate 
 men who had fallen in or near the camp, and whose 
 dead bodies the Indian miscreants had mutilated in 
 a most horrible manner. 
 
 Thus was closed the horse-stealing tragedy. 
 
378 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Then John Wetzel and the hunter named Veach 
 Dickerson associated together to go on an Indian 
 scout. They cfossed the Ohio three miles below 
 the present town of Steubenville, with its more than 
 thrifty inhabitants and activity in the march of im- 
 provements. The men set off with the avowed 
 intention of bringing in an Indian prisoner. Indeed 
 it seems that while Lewis Wetzel's brothers were as 
 vindictive as he was himself, their vindictiveness 
 had a merry, playful side to it wholly lacking in his 
 case. Their escapades were enjoyed, and created as 
 much amusement as anything else. 
 
 For now the two men, Dickerson and John Wet- 
 zel, painted their bodies and garbed themselves in 
 complete Indian style, and had no fear of the result, 
 trusting to their fluency in the Indian language 
 to aid materially in the deception and prevent detec- 
 tion. 
 
 ^ We are half Indian anyhow," said they, " and 
 the wonder is we are not wholly so out in this night- 
 mare land." 
 
 Whatever induced them thus to undertake the 
 expedition is not known, outside of the novelty and 
 danger of the undertaking and their desire to 
 manifest their contempt for the Indians' gullibility. 
 They were not employed by government nor recog- 
 nized as scouts. Each man constituted himself a 
 
WETZEVS BROTHERS, 379 
 
 government in himself, bestowing upon himself the 
 authority to cact as he thought best and to be fully 
 exonerated in the result. Then, instead of the usual 
 mode in these enterprises, — of killing the foe on 
 sight, and taking no captives, — these two masquer- 
 ading men determined to bring in a prisoner to 
 make a pet of him as they would a monkey or a 
 cub bear. 
 
 Their idea obtained little attention from the 
 serious settlers, but then, as now, there was no 
 gathering of people among whom there were not 
 those whose whole lives appeared to be on the look- 
 out for amusement and delectation. By these 
 "Wetzel and Dickerson were much approved, and 
 what was called nonsense by the more sober mind 
 was here regarded as the greatest kind of bravery,^ 
 seeing that the masquerade was not to be attended 
 by merry dances and junketing. 
 
 The two men, keeping their wits about them, in 
 spite of their grotesque appearance, pushed through 
 the hostile Indian country, with silent tread and 
 keen outlook, till they came near the head of the 
 Sandusky River, where they came full-tilt upon a 
 small Indian village. 
 
 Their belief in their disguises may have failed 
 them a little here, for it would appear that, instead 
 of pushing on and entering into the village and 
 
380 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 claiming to be what they assured themselves they 
 represented so well, they concealed themselves near 
 a path which appeared to be considerably trav- 
 eled, and prepared to wait. 
 
 In the course of the first day of their ambush, 
 they saw several small companies of Indians pass 
 by them, almost brushing the grass that hid them. 
 But as it was not their desire to raise an alarm 
 among the enemy, they permitted these small com- 
 panies to pass by undisturbed. All the next day 
 they waited here undetected. In the early evening 
 of that second day they saw two Indian youths 
 coming sauntering along the road, in the merriest 
 possible moods, wrestling as they came. The two 
 disguised white men immediately stepped from their 
 hiding-place out into the road, and with the most 
 confident air in the w^orld went forward, as if meet- 
 ing friends, until they w^ere within a few feet of the 
 advancing Indian youths. 
 
 "White men, no like Injuns," said one of the 
 Indians at once, thus destroying the hallucinations 
 of the two men. 
 
 Without another word, and knowing that they 
 were in immediate danger, Wetzel drew his toma- 
 hawk and, with a powerful sweep, knocked one of 
 the Indians down. 
 
 DickersoD, at the same instant, threw his arms 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 381 
 
 about the other Indian, and, by a dexterous move- 
 ment, tumbled him to the ground. By this time 
 John Wetzel had killed the other Indian, ^d turned 
 his attention to gagging and pinioning the remain- 
 ing one. 
 
 This was speedily accomplished ; and, taking the 
 scalp of the dead red-skin, the two white men set 
 rapidly off with their prisoner for home. They trav- 
 eled all that night on the war-path leading towards 
 Wheeling. In the morning they struck off out of 
 the path, making diverse courses, and keeping on 
 the hardest ground, where their feet would leave 
 the very least of impressions, as this would render 
 their trail more difficult to follow in case of pursuit, 
 which they strongly suspected. 
 
 They pushed along until they had crossed the 
 Muskingum, and had left it behind them at some 
 distance, when their prisoner began to show a rest- 
 ive, stubborn disposition. They now removed the 
 gag from his mouth, no longer fearing his shouts. 
 
 " Indian no go with white cowards ; Indian rather 
 die by Indian hands," he said doggedly. " Indian 
 brave and free. Cords make Indian no prisoner." 
 
 His head turned from them, and he looked back, 
 smiling, towards the country he had come from. 
 He finally threw himself upon the ground, and 
 refused to rise. 
 
382 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 They coaxed and pushed ; he held his head towards 
 them. 
 
 " White man may tomahawk Indian," he said, 
 "but Indian go no farther with white man." 
 
 They used every argument the}^ could think of to 
 induce him to rise to his feet and proceed with 
 them, but all to no purpose. 
 
 He said he would prefer dying in his native 
 woods than to preserve his life a little longer, and 
 at last be tortured by fire and his body mangled 
 for sport when they took him into their towns. 
 
 He was assured that his life would not only be 
 spared, but that he would be well-used and treated 
 with all kindness. But nothing could induce him 
 to rise to his feet. The idea that he would be put to 
 death for the amusement of his captors, and in the 
 presence of a vast^ number of spectators who would 
 enjoy rapturously the struggles in his torture and 
 death, as prisoners were often treated among his 
 own people, had all taken such a strong hold on his 
 mind that nothing would change his idea, and he 
 determined to spoil the possibility of any gratifi- 
 cation being had at his expense. 
 
 As it was not their desire or intention to kill him, 
 they ceased coaxing, and concluded to try if a 
 hickory switch, well applied by strong hands, would 
 not alter his determination. 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 383 
 
 "White man coward," he said, with infinite scorn, 
 as he saw the cutting of the switch, and speaking 
 in his broken English — for he had refused to, use 
 the Indian language to these men who attired them- 
 selves like his people. 
 
 They then applied the switch to him, but without 
 producing the slightest effect; he seemed to be as 
 callous and indifferent to the lash as he had been to 
 their arguments and coaxings. Finding all their 
 efforts to get him forward in vain, and determined 
 that he should not have his way and return to his 
 tribe, they then threatened to kill him. 
 
 Again he lowered his head and presented it to 
 them — and this time it did not again resupie its 
 upright position, for a tomahawk found its way 
 into the brain ; and after the scalp had been taken 
 the supine body was left in its native woods which 
 it had never left, a prey to the wild, free beasts 
 of the forest, and the free birds of the free air. 
 
 The two masqueraders then returned home, vexed 
 and disappointed, to show only two scalps, and not 
 the dancing prisoner which they had promised to 
 their friends. 
 
 The following incident, in which General Simon 
 Kenton appears as the companion of Lewis Wetzel's 
 brother Jacob, is vouched for in Pritt's "Border 
 Life." 
 
38-4 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 Kenton and Jacob Wetzel made arrangements to 
 make a protracted fall hunt together. For that 
 purpose they went, in the month of October, into 
 the wild, farzy, hilly country near the mouth of the 
 Kentucky Kiver, for deer abounded there and few 
 Indians had lately been seen in the immediate 
 vicinity. However, when Kenton and Wetzel arrived 
 there, and had made arrangements for their hunt, 
 they discovered by unmistakable signs that Indians 
 had lately been on the ground, and might be 
 lurking near at hand. 
 
 It would have been foreign to the well-known 
 character of a Kenton and a Wetzel to retreat in con- 
 fusion without first ascertaining the exact position 
 and number of an enem3^'s party. 
 
 They therefore determined, before proceeding on 
 their hunt for venison, to find the Indian camp 
 which they believed to be at no great distance from 
 them. The first night of their encampment on the 
 ground proved that their surmises w^ere correct, for 
 reports of guns had sounded far ofi', and these 
 reports decided them. 
 
 Early the next morning the reports of the guns 
 were repeated, and far off in the air they could see 
 a soft haze which hinted at a camp-fire. With these 
 precursors of the nearness of the red savages, Ken- 
 ton and Wetzel moved cautiously forward, making 
 
WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 385 
 
 as little sign as possible, fearful of the possibility of 
 Indian videttes stationed some distance from the 
 camp, as was usually the case. All day they moved 
 slowly onward, coming inch by inch nearer to the 
 smoke of the camp-fire, and meeting with no oppo- 
 sition nor hint that they had been discovered. 
 
 Towards evening they came within full sight of the 
 camp. They kept in closer concealment yet, and 
 determined that as soon as night had fallen, and 
 the vigilance of the Indians had relaxed a little, 
 they would reconnoiter the vantage-ground, find out 
 the number of the enemy, and then govern their 
 future operations as prudence and the circumstances 
 might dictate. 
 
 Night had no sooner come than they crept for- 
 ward and peered into the camp, and by the light of 
 the fire found five men and five blankets — there 
 were then no more than five braves here. 
 
 " When shall it be ?" whispered Wetzel to his com- 
 panion impatiently. 
 
 " Now, if you say so," was the reply. 
 
 Having confidence in themselves, and in their 
 usual good fortune, they determined to attack the 
 Indians boldly, and without any shilly-shallying, 
 for they wanted to begin their hunt for deer. Con- 
 trary to all military tactics, they agreed to defer the 
 
 attack until it was day. 
 33 
 
38(5 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 "According to military code, small numbers should 
 attack large in the dark. But we had better have 
 light and an open field," General Kenton had ex- 
 plained. ^ 
 
 There was a large fallen tree lying near to the 
 camp of the Indians, and this prostrate monarch of 
 the forest it was determined should serve as a ram- 
 part for the defense ; and it would also serve to con- 
 ceal the two attackers from observation until the 
 battle began. 
 
 They took up their positions behind the log, 
 and there they lay silent, until light should come, 
 and they should be able to draw a clear bead. 
 
 " I am glad I have a double-barreled rifle," whis- 
 pered Jacob Wetzel once. 
 
 " Hush !" said the general. 
 
 Daylight struggled through the trees. By the 
 dim light the two ambushed men saw the Indians 
 XQOving about. 
 
 " Now I" whispered the general ; " and when my 
 foot moves, fire." 
 
 They took aim, the preconcerted signal was given, 
 fired, and two Indians fell dead to the ground. As 
 quick as thought Jacob Wetzel fired his second load, 
 and down fell the third Indian to bite the dust. 
 Their numbers were now equal, and screaming and 
 yelling at the top of their voices to terrify the 
 
\ 
 
 WETZEL'S BROTHERS. 387 
 
 astonished savages, the two white men bounded 
 from their covert of the log, and were with their 
 remaining enemies before they had recovered from 
 the shock. These two remaining Indians took to 
 their heels, without arms or blankets, and ran in 
 different directions, having completely lost their 
 heads, and becoming panic-struck. 
 
 General Kenton pursued one, whom he soon over- 
 took, struck down, and returned to the camp with 
 his scalp. But Wetzel w^as not in the camp, and 
 the general shouted for him. A faint answer far 
 off assured him of the young man's safety, and in a 
 few minutes Jacob Wetzel came bounding in, the 
 scalp of the fifth Indian in his hand. 
 
 " And now let us hurry," said he, " and begin our 
 too-long-deferred deer hunt." 
 
388 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. 
 
 QOON after the rescue of the betrothed of his 
 young relative, Simon, Lewis Wetzel, seeming to 
 be possessed by a new phase of unrest, determined 
 to go far away from the scenes that knew him best, 
 and which now seemed to pall on him; so, two 
 days after he had last seen the happy man taking 
 the saved girl on to the settlement, the sun gilding 
 them as they went across the landscape, he engaged 
 passage on a flat-boat just about leaving for New 
 Orleans. 
 
 " Let me go on the boat." 
 
 " We go to New Orleans," returned the captain. 
 
 Wetzel pulled out his purse and paid his passage- 
 money. 
 
 "The man looks as excited as though he were 
 running away from his wife and children," said the 
 captain suspiciously. "He did not even answer 
 me civilly when I told him where we were bound 
 for." 
 
 " You'd better look out," answered the deck-hand. 
 
THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. 
 
 " "Who knows but we shall have a mother-in-law 
 starting up when we have been out a couple of 
 hours? You had better see into it, captain/^ 
 
 " Look at him now," pursued the captain, "acting 
 as much at home as though he had been born and 
 bred on a flat-boat. See, he don't even look aston- 
 ished ; and it is as likely as not that he never was 
 on such a craft as this in all his life. It is hardly 
 fair to a man's feelings, and that man the captain 
 of a boat like this one, to take so much for granted 
 and not even deign to admire the taut and trim 
 shape of everything about us. What shall I do, 
 Neddy ? I don't want to be hauled up before a court 
 of law." 
 
 "The best thing you can do, captain," returned 
 Neddy, " is to give the poor chap a chance. So let's 
 pull off immediately." 
 
 The boat sailed out from her moorings, and put 
 off for the South. All the w^ay there Wetzel 
 remained on deck, silent and sad. He answered 
 when spoken to, but addressed no one without provo- 
 cation, and adventured little or no conversation on 
 his own account. 
 
 There was a sick man on board, going home to 
 die, his thin, transparent face peculiarly fascinating 
 the strong, robust pioneer. With this man Wetzel 
 consorted most, listening to faint, vague raptures, as 
 
890 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the invalid spoke of the sunny South and heaven, 
 till his listener scarcely knew at times which place 
 the sufferer alluded to, so were the two confused — 
 the one his earthly home, the other his spiritual, 
 and both equally beloved. 
 
 " You believe in its glories and its great tender- 
 ness?" once asked the invalid. 
 
 " Yes," answered Wetzel in a low tone of voice, 
 looking out across the water. 
 
 " And you know we can lie there day after day, 
 unfearing anything at all, always sure of a mellow 
 light and soft winds, that never disturb. Then the 
 countless songs, the soft, sw^eet music in the air, and 
 the rest that reminds you of nothing you have ever 
 known ; the voices of those you love around you, 
 the odors of a million flowers about you, and above 
 and around all the grateful sense of rest that fears 
 no rude awakening; perfect security and no fear: 
 Then there is no pain there " 
 
 " No pain there," mused the listener. 
 
 " And," went on the other, " tears are dried, smiles 
 come easily, and we forget all the dreary longing 
 and the want we have ever had !" 
 
 " All the dreary longing and the want we have 
 ever had !" 
 
 " And then some one we loved best of all comes 
 with us, hand and hand we go through all the 
 
THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. 391 
 
 glories scattered so profusely around us, and which 
 are ours for the very enjoying." 
 
 " Hand in hand !" 
 
 " There is no more disappointment ; those we love 
 love us. You believe in all this, do you not ?" 
 
 " I believe, oh, yes," answered Wetzel ; " oh, yes, I 
 believe, though maybe you see it with a sick man's 
 eyes, and suffering here see only in heaven the dif- 
 ference between pain and the total lack of it." 
 
 " I did not mean that — I did not speak of heaven. 
 I meant the South, the glorious, warm South," said 
 the other. 
 
 Wetzel could only answer that he had seen very 
 little of that South which the sick man lauded. 
 
 At New Orleans he would not leave the invalid. 
 
 " Have you no friends ?" he asked. 
 
 "Friends!" echoed the man, smiling, "friends I 
 many — many." 
 
 " They are not here to receive you." 
 
 " They did not expect me so soon. The captain 
 sailed sooner than he expected to, on your account." 
 
 " On my account !" 
 
 " He thought you were in a hurry, I believe. Yes, 
 my friends will soon be here. But don't you stay 
 here with me ; go to your own dear friends." 
 
 " They are not in New Orleans." 
 
 "Where are they?" 
 
392 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 The sick man looked up at him, a pang of sorrow 
 crossing his face. He grasped the scout's hand 
 fervently. 
 
 "It will all be right some day," he said. 
 
 " It is all right now," answered Wetzel. 
 
 He came and sat on the wharf with his new 
 friend until loving people hurried there and claimed 
 the invalid. Then the same look came into Wetzel's 
 face that had rested there the time he had looked 
 after the reunited pair going towards the white 
 settlement in the sun. But, as then, he grasped his 
 rifle and trudged on into the heart of the busy 
 place, and was soon lost to the view of the few 
 people who looked after him and his quaint appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Many months elapsed before his friends heard 
 anything of him, and his life while in New Orleans 
 seems never to have been fully known. It was 
 hinted though that he roved the streets of the city 
 gazing on the stately buildings and crowded work- 
 shops and busy people. He was said to have 
 thrashed a man for using profanity towards a 
 woman. He found stray children and took them 
 home. He attracted much attention from his garb 
 and his adherence to his rifle in place of a walking- 
 stick, and timid women held aloof from the wild- 
 
THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. ' 393 
 
 looking man, who, often observing tlieir repugnance, 
 would hurry away with lowered head. 
 
 Then there came news to the West that he was in 
 prison in New Orleans. What the exact nature of 
 the charge w^as has never been fully ascertained, but 
 it is very certain that he was imprisoned and treated 
 as a common felon for nearly two years. 
 
 It was said that he was going along a street one 
 night, and seeing a ruffian insulting a young girl, he 
 had rapped the man over the head with his rifle as 
 a polite reminder that he had better stop his insults. 
 The man stopped the insulting proclivities suffi- 
 ciently to lie in a gutter and call for assistance, 
 which, when it came, arrested the scout and lodged 
 him in jail. 
 
 Again it was said that a stranger, gaudily attired, 
 came up to him in the street one day. 
 
 " Halloo, captain," said the stranger, grasping the 
 hand of the confused scout and wringing it cor- 
 dially. 
 
 " I'-fn not a captain," said Wetzel simply. " I'm 
 only Lewis Wetzel." 
 
 " As if I didn't know it," said the still further 
 pleased stranger. " You must allow me to call you 
 Captain Wetzel. And how are bears out your way, 
 captain ?" 
 
 "There are not so many as there used to be," 
 
392 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 The sick man looked up at him, a pang of sorrow 
 crossing his face. He grasped the scout's hand 
 fervently. 
 
 "It will all be right some day," he said. 
 
 " It is all right now," answered Wetzel. 
 
 He came and sat on the wharf with his new 
 friend until loving people hurried there and claimed 
 the invalid. Then the same look came into Wetzel's 
 face that had rested there the time he had looked 
 after the reunited pair going towards the white 
 settlement in the sun. But, as then, he grasped his 
 rifle and trudged on into the heart of the busy 
 place, and was soon lost to the view of the few 
 people who looked after him and his quaint appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Many months elapsed before his friends heard 
 anything of him, and his life while in New Orleans 
 seems never to have been fully known. It was 
 hinted though that he roved the streets of the city 
 gazing on the stately buildings and crowded work- 
 shops and busy people. He was said to have 
 thrashed a man for using profanity towards a 
 woman. He found stray children and took them 
 home. He attracted much attention from his garb 
 and his adherence to his rifle in place of a walking- 
 stick, and timid women held aloof from the wild- 
 
THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. ' 393 
 
 looking man, who, often observing their repugnance, 
 would hurry away with lowered head. 
 
 Then there came news to the West that he was in 
 prison in New Orleans. What the exact nature of 
 the charge was has never been fully ascertained, but 
 it is very certain that he was imprisoned and treated 
 as a common felon for nearly two years. 
 
 It was said that he was going along a street one 
 night, and seeing a ruffian insulting a young girl, he 
 had rapped the man over the head with his rifle as 
 a polite reminder that he had better stop his insults. 
 The man stopped the insulting proclivities suffi- 
 ciently to lie in a gutter and call for assistance, 
 which, w^hen it came, arrested the scout and lodged 
 him in jail. 
 
 Again it was said that a stranger, gaudily attired, 
 came up to him in the street one day. 
 
 " Halloo, captain," said the stranger, grasping the 
 hand of the confused scout and wringing it cor- 
 dially. 
 
 " I'm not a captain," said Wetzel simply. " I'm 
 only Lewis Wetzel." 
 
 " As if I didn't know it," said the still further 
 pleased stranger. " You must allow me to call you 
 Captain Wetzel. And how are bears out your way, 
 captain ?" 
 
 *' There are not so many as there used to be," 
 
394 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 returned Wetzel. " But how do you know me ? — and 
 how do you know I came from the Mingo Bottom ?'* 
 
 " Why it's printed in your face, even if everybody 
 did not know who you were beforehand. Why 
 your name is all through New Orleans. I should 
 be ashamed of my own mother's only son if I had 
 not been prolific in spreading the news of Lewis 
 Wetzel's various escapades." 
 
 " The people of New Orleans are very kind." 
 
 "By the way, captain, would you mind giving 
 me a big gold coin for these little ones ? These take 
 up too much room in the shallow pockets our tailors 
 make for us. But your pockets hold a bushel." 
 
 " Of course I'll accommodate you," said Wetzel, 
 and did so, and with another hearty shake of the 
 hand, and a promise to see him again, the gaudily- 
 attired stranger hurried off. 
 
 " That is a very nice man," said Lewis Wetzel. 
 
 He attempted to spend one of the small gold coins 
 which the very nice man had given him for the 
 large piece, and as it was discovered to be counter- 
 feit, and many others being found upon his person, 
 he was apprehended and sentenced to imprisonment 
 for uttering false coin. 
 
 Whatever charge it may have been that caused 
 his incarceration, he was finally liberated, and 
 hurried home by way of Philadelphia, to which 
 
THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. 395 
 
 place he was sent from New Orleans. He shut his 
 eyes sedulously now to all overtures towards friend- 
 ship, no matter by whom made. 
 
 While in Philadelphia he was greeted by a peace 
 society composed of Friends, who, seeing his dreary 
 condition, and hearing his story, offered to befriend 
 him. But he turned away from their gentle, calm 
 faces, and doubted them. 
 
 He had liked the quiet, straight streets of Phila- 
 delphia, and he had gone and looked at Independ- 
 ence Hall, and felt a thrill permeate every inch 
 of him as he thought of those stirring things enac- 
 ted there when he was such a young and helpless 
 babe. 
 
 He had looked at Christ Church, and thought he 
 could see General Washington going in there of a 
 Sunday to listen to the tender voice of Bishop White, 
 who stood in the pulpit and reckoned the man 
 in the pew, who was now termed "the father of his 
 country," only as a fellow-being who came to him 
 for guidance into the country whose Father spoke to 
 one and all alike, making no distinction in men, if 
 only they appealed to Him and believed in his 
 strength with firmest faith. 
 
 Then Wetzel found himself once in the neighbor- 
 hood of a plain, low building, surrounded by a high 
 wall — a Friends' meeting-house. Here he thought 
 
396 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the elm-trees were very fine, particularly that one 
 which had been taken, a slip, from Penn's treaty-tree, 
 up farther in Philadelphia. It was gazing on these 
 trees that brought him in contact with some Friends 
 who would have been good to him. 
 
 " We do not press ourselves upon thee," said an 
 elder, " though verily we should like thee to come 
 to our business-meeting next fifth-day, in our meet- 
 ing-house on Twelfth street, and perchance instruct 
 us a trifle about the condition of the frontier, and 
 how best the miserable condition of the Indians 
 may be ameliorated. Thee thyself is a man who 
 has had vast experience, and, peradventure, thee 
 would not refuse to induct us a little into the ways 
 and means of thy part of tlie United States. We 
 would do well by thee, friend Wetzel, if thee would 
 give us a chance to do so." 
 
 But he turned away from them, disregarding their 
 offer. 
 
 " You may be all right," he said ; " but I thought 
 the nice man in New Orleans all right too. You 
 don't want me to give you a big gold coin for a lot 
 of little ones, do you ?" 
 
 " Nay," said the drab-coated elder gently, " small 
 coins are much more convenient than large ones." 
 
 " Your tailors don't make your pockets so small 
 that you can't find room for your money, do they ?" 
 
THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. 397 
 
 " Nay, friend, our tailors devise our pockets with 
 sufficient capacity to accommodate all the coin we 
 put into them." 
 
 " Well, you may be all right ; but I think you'd 
 better leave me alone," said Wetzel firmly. 
 
 " It shall be as thee wishes," answered the elder 
 with a sigh. " Fare thee well, friend !" 
 
 W^etzel waited impatiently till he got to Wheeling 
 again ; he did not feel safe until then. 
 
 De Haas in his narrative writes : 
 
 " Mr. Kodefer says he saw him immediately after 
 his return, and that his personal appearance had 
 undergone a great change by reason of his long im- 
 prisonment.'' 
 
 At Wheeling Creek he visited his mother for two 
 days during the absence of his mother's husband. 
 He was kinder now towards his mother, and listened 
 patiently to her praises of her husband, now a pros- 
 perous herder. 
 
 " You are more like you were when you were very 
 young, Lewis," said his mother. " Ah, Lewis, I re- 
 member the time I sat in the bottom of the wagon 
 and watched our old little home disappearing." 
 
 " Well, what are you crying about now, mother? 
 That's all over, years and years ago," he said, not 
 unkindly. 
 ' " Cry I why I've always cried about you. I cried 
 
 34 
 
398 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 that day in the wagon till you were all damp. Cry ! 
 women have always cried about you ; when we 
 heard here that you had been arrested in New 
 Orleans " 
 
 *' Which arrest I mean to avenge," he said quietly. 
 
 "All the women around cried," went on his mother, 
 unheeding the interruption. " Cry ! why when you 
 were a baby in your cradle didn't Grizzle Heister 
 come in with a flag and cry over you ? You don' 
 remember Grizzle Heister, do you, Lewis?" 
 
 " Not very well," he answered smiling. 
 
 "Ah, true ; you were only two months old. Well, 
 it's not your fault that you don't remember her. 
 Ah, there was a fine figure of a woman ; none of 
 your Western breed there!" 
 
 " There's nothing against the Western women, 
 mother." 
 
 " I didn't say there was. But I hope I am allowed 
 a preference. I am firmly convinced by the way 
 Grizzle cried over 3^ou that day that had you chosen 
 to remain you might have married her." 
 
 " She was fifteen j^ears old, wasn't she?'* 
 
 " Yes, a most interesting age." 
 
 " I was two months !" 
 
 "That's neither here nor there^ Lewis; this is 
 New Orleans manners to your mother, li"kely ; and 
 I wish you wouldn't catch me up so quickly. Ah, 
 me ! I wonder where Grizzle is now ?" 
 
THE NEW ORLEANS EPISODE. 399 
 
 \ 
 
 "A grandmother, no doubt." 
 
 " It is possible ; ber family always did marry 
 early. But what is to binder you from marrying, 
 Lewis ? You are getting old and " 
 
 " Ugly," laugbed a woman's voice. 
 
 It was Mrs. Cookis, a relative coming in. 
 
 " Yes, Lewis," she went on, " it's high time you 
 thought of settling down like the rest of us. Now 
 I know the sweetest, dearest, lovingest, smartest, 
 gentlest creature in the world ; and she thinks you 
 are the boldest, brazenest, hatefulest, fearfulest man 
 in creation — and that's next to saying that she is 
 over head and ears in love with you. Now, come, 
 let your mother and me fix it up between you two. 
 You surely can't refuse a woman such a trifle! 
 Come ! What do you say?" 
 
 " There is no woman in this world for me," 
 he said sadly; "but I do hope there may be one 
 in heaven." 
 
 He left the room and the house after this, and 
 next day he had disappeared in the old fashion. 
 
 He had told a man or two that now he was at 
 home, he felt like an arrant coward, and longed to 
 go back to New Orleans and have revenge of 
 the man who had caused his imprisonment. He 
 was not to be laughed out of it, he was not to be 
 argued out of it ; and the very thought that he had 
 
400 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 been made a dupe of, and that he must be jeered at 
 by the man who had duped him, as not being able 
 to compete with a rascal's duplicity, made him chafe 
 and long to wipe out the disgrace of iron chains 
 and bolts and bars by a free use of his manhood 
 and a speedy satisfaction upon his enemy. 
 
 When he disappeared he was called fool-hardy, 
 and he lost friends by this line of action. And 
 those at home waited daily for intelligence of his 
 death in a street brawl in New Orleans, or his arrest 
 as a murderer. But this startling news never came, 
 and month after month passed and there was no 
 report of him whatever. He was given up for lost 
 by some, his mother among the rest, and it was 
 even proposed to send a delegation to New Orleans 
 to ascertain the cause of no news of him. 
 
 "Let me go," said Charley Madison, now a well- 
 to-do farmer, and very anxious for a little change in 
 his life. 
 
 " Indeed, I won't let you go," said his buxom and 
 comely wife. 
 
 " What have you got to say against it, Berta ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Only that you shan't go," she replied calmly, 
 and took his arm and led him away. 
 
THE LAST INDIAN. 401 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE LAST INDIAN. 
 
 T)UT all this pother and worry was brought to a 
 close after many months of vexatious continu- 
 ance. For Wetzel one day appeared in the neigh- 
 borhood, his rifle over his shoulder, as though he 
 had been only on one of his old scouts. 
 
 But whether Lewis Wetzel avenged his wrongs, as 
 he had vowed to do, his biographers at this time 
 cannot say. Only it is fair to say that he would not 
 have come across the man who had wronged him 
 by any secret means ; and if he took any revenge, it 
 was scarcely less than a manly one. 
 
 He never told what he had done, nor if he had 
 come across the man. But he returned this second 
 time with much of his old, well-known strength, 
 and his propensity for the woods seemed redoubled, 
 if possible, to atone for his long absence from them. 
 He was forever hunting, and his deer-hides found 
 ready purchasers ; for the more peaceful deer were 
 his victims now. With advancing years and expe- 
 rience, he seemed to regard the taking of human 
 
402 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 life with more thought, though his hatred for the 
 Indians had never deserted him. The savages were 
 not so plentiful now as formerly, and they had moved 
 further up the country, and were seldom seen around 
 the settlements that claimed Wetzel, for adventurous 
 people had long passed by Wheeling and its envi- 
 ronment, and gone out to greater wilds and less set- 
 tled lands to lay their claims and establish their 
 towns. * 
 
 Therefore, Wetzel, losing none of his hatred, yet 
 did not follow up his foe with his old cunning and 
 recklessness. He was destined, however, to go to 
 those further wilds, too, after an adventure wherein 
 some of his old taste returned to him. And he it 
 was who was often engaged for months at a time by 
 the settlers furthest removed from the aid of the 
 forts to hunt up and locate their lands. 
 
 The incident which seemed to change him from 
 the man loving to brood in the woods while he 
 tracked the deer may be summed up in a little 
 space, and shows that very little of his old cunning 
 had been lost through his long incarceration in 
 New Orleans and the inactivity and gloominess of a 
 hopeless prison discipline to a man like him. 
 
 Returning home one day from a hunt north of 
 the Ohio, fatigued, and suspecting no treachery 
 here where he had been for the last week or so, he 
 
THE LAST INDIAN. 403 
 
 suddenly espied an Indian, not far off, in the very 
 act of raising his gun to fire on him. Both the 
 Indian and the white man immediately sprang to 
 trees, behind which they stood for more than an 
 hour. There was nothing to be done but to think 
 it out. To remain long in that position was not to 
 the taste nor inclination of Wetzel. 
 
 He suddenly hit upon the boldest plan imagin- 
 able, the successful carrying out of which displays 
 to the fullest the superiority of the sagacity of the 
 w^hite man over the natural simplicity of the savage. 
 
 " I can't help myself," communed Wetzel, for the 
 first time in his life hesitating w^here the life of an 
 Indian was intended. 
 
 He peeped from behind his tree, and saw the 
 Indian doing the same from behind the tree that 
 sheltered him, but with this difference: that the 
 Indian had his rifle lodged in a knot of the tree, 
 aimed directly towards the spot where the wd:iite 
 man lay concealed. 
 
 "No, I can't help myself," said Wetzel for the 
 second time. 
 
 He thereupon removed his bear-skin cap, and very 
 cautiously adjusting it to the ramrod of his gun, 
 w^ith the slightest, most dubious, and hesitating 
 movement, as though fearful of venturing a little 
 glance, he protruded the cap from the side of the 
 tree. 
 
404 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 In an instant there was a crack, and the furry cap 
 flew from the ramrod, torn by the bullet from the 
 gun of the ever vigilant savage, whose aim Wetzel 
 even then thought admirable. Quick as lightning 
 Wetzel leaped up, and passed from the side of the 
 tree and advanced upon the confounded Indian. 
 
 " White man's ghost," gasped the savage. 
 
 At this Wetzel laughed, which laugh seemed to 
 assure the Indian of the flesh and blood quality of 
 his foe; for, raising his tomahawk aloft with the 
 ever-rapid movement, in the twinkling of an eye it 
 leaped from the tawny hand, but not before Wetzel's 
 bullet had sped on its work of death. For as the 
 tomahawk descended, harmless, behind him, Wetzel 
 saw the brave leap convulsively into the air, and, 
 straighteniug his limbs as he descended, fall prone 
 upon his face, quite dead. Wetzel went up and 
 gazed at him. 
 
 " And was my life given to me to do such work 
 as this?" he said. "Are there not nobler ways of 
 dealing with a deadly foe than this? Did not my 
 life in that Southern pest-city show me crime like 
 this where there should have been loving pity and 
 refuge? What did my life in that prison, sur- 
 rounded by what is called the scum of society, — the 
 scum because it rises rapidly to the surface, while 
 the less hurried body of the water remains below, — 
 
THE LAST INDIAN. 405 
 
 what did that prison-life teach me? Oh, that men 
 of strength like mine would go to crowded towns 
 and use their arms to protect innocence in danger, 
 truth belied, and weakness trodden down ! Had I 
 but seen in my early days as I see now, I might have 
 been a better man. If my father had only been 
 content with his poverty when I was born, there 
 might have been shown to me a different line of 
 action than I have made mine. If the girl who 
 wept over my cradle had only influenced my mother 
 to remain, and thus have kept my father ! Yet, 
 what might my father have become, over there, in 
 poverty and discontent? Temptation might have 
 made him one of those very fallen ones that men 
 like I should raise. And where might I have 
 been, with a fallen man for a father? In the mire, 
 very likely. But, no ; my father was a brave man, 
 not a man like his sons — killers of God's people. 
 My father accepted God's profusion, not God's curse 
 of Cain. Yet am I a murderer? Have not the 
 deaths of certain men been necessary to life since 
 the very beginning ? And has not God selected men 
 to avenge his people's rights? Have I not been 
 instrumental in preserving a few innocent lives at 
 the expense of less worthy ones ? No, I am not a 
 murderer, but my revenge actuated me too much. 
 But it was not a flippant revenge, and it was for the 
 
406 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 life of one of God's noblest men — my father ! And 
 so I come back to the starting-point, and prove 
 nothing. Who can answer the questions I have 
 asked myself all my life long? I cannot answer 
 them myself, and I dare not ask another's interpre- 
 tation. Whether I have been wholly wrong or 
 partly right, whether my life will be called wasted 
 or partly useful, I know that such a man as this 
 cooling savage w^as one short hour ago has possi- 
 bilities which not I nor any other man alive dare 
 limit or guage by the mistakes and perversions of 
 our own selfish lives." 
 
 Then, giving one more look upon the prostrate 
 body, and throwing a few tree branches on it, Wet- 
 zel left the woods, and determined on peace, if he 
 could ever obtain it. 
 
VALE. 40r 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 VALE. 
 
 A S Wetzel's name and prowess had long been the 
 subject of universal regard, and as he was 
 known to be one of the most efficient scouts and 
 practical woodmen of his day, his services, as has 
 been before mentioned, were now most eagerly 
 called for by the new settlers anxious to found their 
 claims in the further West. Their reliance on the 
 man forced him to accede to their wishes, no matter 
 what his own longing after rest may have been. 
 He saw his duty in thus helping the ambitious new 
 men coming in from crowded cities and overbur- 
 dened countries, — German, Irish, or English, — and 
 he helped them all that he could. Under the protec- 
 tion of the scout they felt safe, for they no sooner 
 landed in the neighborhood that had known him 
 all his life than stories of him were told them, and 
 they were advised "to get Lewis Wetzel, and then 
 they need have no fear of Indian interlopers, for 
 that the Indians held him in mortal dread and 
 
408 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 always gave liim a wide berth wherever he might 
 happen to be." 
 
 During his inactivity the savages seem to have 
 formed a more extravagantly exalted opinion of his 
 qualities as a subduer, so that they held aloof and 
 always imagined he was on their trail. 
 
 Of those who became largely interested in West- 
 ern lands about this time, was John Madison, the 
 brother of James, afterwards President Madison. 
 He employed Lewis Wetzel to accompany him 
 through the Kanawha region. During their expe- 
 dition they one day came across a deserted hunter's 
 camp, into which they penetrated and found a lot 
 of goods concealed. 
 
 " I think I'll help myself to a blanket," said young 
 Madison, and did so. 
 
 That day in crossing Little Kanawha they were 
 fired upon, and Madison was killed. Strange as it 
 may appear, Wetzel failed to pursue the Indians 
 who committed the deed. He took the body to 
 Madison's friends and went home to Wheeling, 
 where he spent days and weeks alone in the woods. 
 The birds became used to him, and would hop upon 
 him as he rested there. There was a lame, delicate 
 little doe that used to come and rest its face beside 
 his, looking at the fierce man out of tender, melting 
 eyes, and unafraid. 
 
VALE, 400 
 
 General Clarke, in the celebrated tour across the 
 Kocky Mountains, had heard much of Lewis Wetzel 
 in Kentucky, and determined to secure his services 
 in the perilous enterprise. A messenger was sent 
 for him, but he was reluctant to go. However, he 
 finally consented, and accompanied the party during 
 the first three months' travel, but then declined to 
 go any further, and returned home. 
 
 Shortly after this, his old restlessness returning 
 with redoubled force, he made up his mind to leave 
 his part of the country. He went to his mother 
 and sisters, and made his simple good-bye's. 
 
 " When shall you return ?" was asked of him. 
 
 " Return !" he answered, " I do not know. Wher- 
 ever I may be of most use, there I remain." 
 
 " We need you here." 
 
 " I do not think so. A new civilization has 
 sprung up, and a new mode of settlement has come 
 about. The Indians are more peaceful, and killing 
 them w^hile they are so is nothing short of murder. 
 They may be wilder and fiercer further West, but I 
 shall not go there, I am too old." 
 
 " Old ! you at forty years of age ?" 
 
 " I have lived more than my age in many things." 
 
 " If nothing else kept you near the new settlers, it 
 should be that your vow has never been laid aside." 
 
 **I have never broken my vow, as the Lord 
 
410 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 knows, and I love my father as mnch now as I ever 
 did when he was with me. But I should not be 
 keeping that vow to leave this, my own part of the 
 country, and seek after Indians. I have kept the 
 oath I made — to kill any Indian that came across 
 my path !" 
 
 He took passage on a flat-boat going down the 
 river, and his friends came to see him off. They 
 said that he smiled that day such as he had never 
 smiled before — the smile of an old man having 
 nothing before him but hope of rest. There were 
 women who wept at parting with him. 
 
 " You know, Lewis Wetzel, that I was always 
 proud of you for a brave man," sobbed Charley 
 Madison's wife. 
 
 " You were' always a kind friend, Mrs. Madison " 
 he replied. 
 
 " Mrs. Madison !" she said, reproachfully. 
 
 "Berta, then," he smiled. 
 
 "Come, Berta, the boat is about leaving," urged 
 her husband. 
 
 " What do I care !" cried she. " It's all your fault, 
 Charley Madison." 
 
 Wetzel's young relative, Simon's young wife, now 
 came up. 
 
 " I owe so much to you. I pray for you always," 
 she said simply, and left his side. 
 
VALE. 411 
 
 "Well, Lewis," said his mother, "the world is 
 wide, but it always sends us back to where we started 
 from. Good-bye, my sou, and come again in the 
 spring." 
 
 So they all left him, and grouped together on the 
 shore, watching him sailing away from them. 
 
 " Here, let us give him three cheers," cried Charley 
 Madison. 
 
 " Don't you dare to," shrieked his wife. " Why do 
 you want to cheer him ? He is not going oul? in 
 happiness ! Can't you see his face, and the sorrow 
 there?" 
 
 "But, Berta, it's our good-will for him that makes 
 me want to cheer him," exclaimed her husband, " as 
 a sort of send-off." 
 
 " Send off! Ugh, you disagreeable thing, you ! It's 
 all your fault." 
 
 "What is my fault?" 
 
 " Everything— that's what." 
 
 But there was no cheering, as they watched him 
 there. Slowly, slowly down the stream he sailed, 
 calmly and gently, the ripples the boat made in 
 moving floating up against the shore in little, whis- 
 pering wavelets. Slowly, slowly down the stream 
 he sailed, under the heavy shadows of the clustering 
 trees on the shore. Far out the silent watchers on 
 the shore saw a golden spot on the waters where the 
 
412 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 trees ceased to shadow the path of the boat, and the 
 sun played in all its glorious light, that mocked 
 at shadows. Into this golden spot the boat sailed 
 softly, and the sun lit up the figure standing at the 
 prow like a halo ; lit up the dark face till they said 
 it shone with a strange, weird expression ; lit up the 
 gun-barrel till it was like a flash of lightning, as the 
 boat rocked and made the light strike it every instant 
 from a new direction; lit up the long, black hair 
 and the fierce eyes that were softer, dimmer now. 
 He took his hat from his head, out there in the 
 golden spot on the waters, and held it up to those 
 far away on the shore, and held it so till the boat 
 w^ent further and further, rounded a curve, and he 
 ■was gone; and the ripples still coming into the 
 feet of the group on the shore alone told that he 
 had been here and was gone away from the land 
 that knew him so well, never, never to return. 
 
 For he never did come back. Shortly after he had 
 gone he was heard from at intervals — merely that 
 some one had heard of him in some out-of-the-way 
 place. He is known to have visited a relative living 
 about twenty miles in the interior from Natchez, 
 and here he lived until the summer of 1808, when 
 he died, at the age of forty-four years, in the prime 
 of a life that had never been happy and seldom 
 satisfied. 
 
VALE. 413 
 
 That the description of him attempted in these 
 pages may be less full than the reader may like, the 
 author is well advised. But it has been very care- 
 fully done, and has closely followed a mass of notes 
 and papers detailing the exploits narrated here. 
 
 More seems to have been thought of the extraor- 
 dinary length of his hair and his fury, as though it 
 were an acknowledged fact that length of hair and 
 fury were always connected, than to the more gener- 
 ous points in the man. The matter in the hands of 
 the author has helped to show^ the fallacy of much of 
 this belief, and it is hoped that murder and revenge 
 will not be conceded as the whole tenor of Lewis 
 Wetzel's life. 
 
 For the very work of destruction to which Lewis 
 "Wetzel's life was devoted was, at the same time, a 
 service to the frontier settlers. There is no doubt 
 that his prowess, and the influence of his name, 
 struck a wholesome fear into the minds of the 
 Indians, and saved the pioneers from many a hostile 
 incursion. Let those w^ho shudder as they think of 
 the Indian scout, — a true hero and benefactor in his 
 day and way, — reflect upon the times and circum- 
 stances as narrated in these pages; and let them 
 grapple with that profounder and more mysterious 
 problem of the conquest of civilization over barba- 
 rism, and they may be enabled to see in this child of 
 
414 LEWIS WETZEL. 
 
 the forest the elements that in another age and 
 under happier circumstances are revered in philan- 
 thropists and benefactors of mankind. 
 
 That others than the readers of this volume found 
 good in the man may be vouched for by a note of 
 De Haas with which the author closes : 
 
 " When Lewis Wetzel professed friendship, he was 
 as true as the needle to the pole. 
 
 " He loved his friends and hated their enemies. 
 
 " He was a rude, blunt man, with but few words 
 before company; but with his friends, not only 
 sociable, but an agreeable companion. 
 
 " Such was Lewis Wetzel ; his name and fame will 
 long survive, when the achievements of men vastly 
 superior in rank and intellect will sluQiber with the 
 forgotten past." 
 
 THE END.