PIONEER MOTHERS OF THE WEST; 
 
 OR, 
 
 DARING AND HEROIC DEEDS 
 OF AMERICAN WOMEN. 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 THRILLING EXAMPLES OF COURAGE, FORTITUDE^ 
 DEVOTEDNESS, AND SELF-SACRIFICE, 
 
 JOHN FROST, LL.D., 
 
 AUTHOR OF PICTOBIAL HISTORY OF THE WORLD," " HISTORY 
 OF THE UNITED STATES," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 LEE AND SHEPARD. 
 
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1859, bj 
 
 G. G. EVANS, 
 
 it the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Easteia District of 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
rof t Library 
 
 PKEPACK 
 
 THE heroism of woman is the heroism of the heart. 
 Her deeds of daring and endurance are prompted by 
 affection. While her husband, her children, and all 
 the other objects of tenderness are safe, her heroic 
 capabilities repose in peace, and external troubles have 
 little power to disturb her serenity. But when danger 
 threatens the household, when the lurking savage is 
 seen near the dwelling, or the war-whoop is heard in 
 the surrounding woods, the matron becomes a heroine, 
 and is ready to peril life, without a moment's hesita 
 tion, in the approaching conflict. When the family is 
 overpowered, and the dwelling burnt with all its pre 
 cious household treasures, she submits without a mur 
 mur ; but when the life of husband or child is menaced, 
 Bhe throws herself beneath the threatening tomahawk, 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 and is ready to receive the descending blow to save 
 the loved one. 
 
 Captured and dragged away from her home, she 
 endures fatigue, braves danger, bear.s contumely, and 
 sometimes deals the death-blow to the sleeping captors, 
 to save the lives of her children. . 
 
 Such is woman's heroism. Such heroism it is the 
 purpose of this collection of narratives to illustrate. 
 If the reader will bear in mind, as he peruses these 
 thrilling histories of woman's noble deeds, that affec 
 tion prompts her daring, this volume will afford him 
 much instruction as to the true character of woman. 
 It will show her noble generosity and self-devotion in 
 their true light ; and will prove that chivalrous cour 
 tesy, which, by common consent, is always and every 
 where in our noble country, accorded to woman, is no 
 more than her well merited reward. 
 
 The Earl of Ellesmere, in his late speech at the 
 Boston School Festival, said that "in America an 
 unprotected woman is unknown." So let it be for 
 ever! 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST, 1 
 
 MRS. HOWE, 1C 
 
 MRS. NEFF, 17 
 
 MRS. PORTER,.. 2C 
 
 MRS. CLENDENEW, 22 
 
 THE WIFE AND DAUGHTERS OF DANIEL BOONB, 26 
 
 THE WAR- WOMAN CREEK, 32 
 
 ELIZABETH ZANE, 37 
 
 MRS. C UNNINGHAM, 47 
 
 MRS. BLAND AND MRS. POLK,. . 52 
 
 MASSY HERBESOJS, 55 
 
 MRS. WHITE, 59 
 
 MRS. DUREK, 61 
 
 MRS. ROWAN, 65 
 
 Miss HECKEWELDER,. 68 
 
 MRS. TACKETT, THE CAPTIVE, 73 
 
 MRS. MERRIL, 79 
 
 THE ESCAPE OF MRS. C.OLEMAN, 81 
 
 THE SISTERS FLEMING, 85 
 
 MRS. PARKER AND DAUGHTER, 100 
 
 EXPERIENCE BOZARTH, 104 
 
 A HEROINE WITHOUT A NAME, 107 
 
 MRS. RUHAMA BuiLDERBACK, 109 
 
 THE WIDOW SCRAGGS, 114 
 
 (v) 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 MRS. WOODS 120 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY, 122 
 
 HEROISM OF WOMEN AT BRYANT'S STATION, 164 
 
 MRS. HELM, THE HEROINE OF CHICAGO, 169 
 
 MttS. PURSLEY, 184 
 
 MARY HART,..^ 191 
 
 A, YOUNG HEROINE, 204 
 
 MRS. DAVIESS, 206 
 
 MARY CHASE, 213 
 
 MRS. DORION, 232 
 
 WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS, 239 
 
 Miss WASHBURN, 268 
 
 THE HUNTER'S WIFE, 279 
 
 MRS. JORDAN'S CAPTIVITY, 294 
 
 CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS OF THE GILBERT FAMILY, 299 
 
 THE EVENTFUL SHOT. .. 346 
 
HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 THE denizens of the Eastern States of our glorious 
 union are accustomed to regard the west as the regions 
 of romance and adventure a sort of American fairy 
 land, whose people are ennobled by generous and chi- 
 valric sentiments, whose history abounds with thrilling 
 adventures, startling incidents, and surprising changes 
 a land where cities spring up with a celerity which 
 rivals the feats of Aladdin's palace-building Genius 
 and where fortunes are made with a facility only 
 surpassed by the wonders of Aladdin's Lamp, 
 
 But the present security and prosperity of the west 
 have been purchased by the blood of the first settlers. 
 Every inch of their beautiful country had to be won 
 from a cruel and savage foe by unheard-of toils, 
 dangers, and conflicts. In these terrible border wars, 
 which marked the early years of the western settle 
 ments, the men signalized themselves by prodigies of 
 valor, enterprise, and endurance ; while the women 
 
 (7) 
 
8 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 rivalled them in all these virtues, affording often 
 the most splendid examples of that spirit of self-sac 
 rifice and devotion which can only be prompted hy 
 disinterested affection. 
 
 Of these instances of female heroism, running 
 through the whole period of western history, and 
 coming down to the present time, many have been 
 preserved by historians and annalists ; and it is our 
 purpose in the present volume to lay them before the 
 reader in their native, unadorned simplicity. The 
 actions speak for themselves, and require no embel 
 lishment of fine writing. We shall, wherever it is 
 practicable, preserve the language of the original nar 
 rator with all its racy originality. This course of 
 proceeding we regard as most certain to present a 
 true picture of the persons and events which will 
 illustrate the early history of the west. A single 
 expression, some homely epithet, or household word, 
 often teems with associations, and brings before us 
 the true character of the scene in all its life-like fea 
 tures all its original vividness of coloring. 
 
 The heroic deeds of these noble American woraen, 
 who first confronted the dangers of the western wil 
 derness are full of instruction. They teach us what 
 women are capable of; they show us how dearly the 
 blessings we now enjoy were purchased by those who 
 went before us in the march of ages, they furnish 
 abundant themes for meditation and study in the mys 
 teries of human character and they present to us, 
 
HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 9 
 
 by the strong contrast of past times with the present, 
 occasion for thankfulness, that in the present age, and 
 in our own quiet homes, the danger of the savage 
 border wars and Indian massacres has passed away 
 never to return. 
 
 Our women of the present age may be heroines, no 
 doubt, in another way; and the occasions for self- 
 sacrifice and noble generosity will still present them 
 selves and still be heroically met. But the original 
 Heroines of the West will always maintain their un 
 rivalled place in the annals of our country, illustrious, 
 revered, and " alone in their glory." 
 
MES. HOWE. 
 
 The following narrative we copy from a periodical. 
 It appears to have been extracted from a biography 
 of General Putnam. 
 
 " At the house of Colonel Schuyler, Major Putnam 
 became acquainted with Mrs. Howe, a fair captive, 
 whose history would not be read without emotion, if it 
 could be written in the same manner in which I have 
 often heard it told. She was still young and hand 
 some herself, though she had two daughters of mar 
 riageable age. Distress, which had taken somewhat 
 from the original redundancy of her bloom, and added 
 a softening paleness to her cheeks, rendering her ap 
 pearance the more engaging. Her face, that seemed 
 to have been formed for the assemblage of dimpled 
 smiles, was clouded with care. The natural sweetness 
 was not, however, soured by despondency and petu 
 lance, but chastened by humility and resignation. 
 This mild daughter of sorrow looked as if she had 
 known the day of prosperity, when serenity and glad 
 ness of soul were the inmates of her bosom. That 
 day was past, and the once lively features now as- 
 Burned a tender melancholy, which witnessed her irre 
 (10) 
 
MRS. HOWE. 
 
 
 
 parable loss. She needed not the customary weeds 
 of mourning, or the fallacious pageantry of woe, to 
 prove her widowed state. She was in that stage of 
 affliction when the excess is so far abated as to per 
 mit the subject to be drawn into conversation, without 
 opening the wound afresh. It is then rather a source 
 of pleasure than pain to dwell upon the circumstances 
 in narration. Every thing conspired to make her 
 story interesting. Her first husband.had been killed 
 and scalped by the Indians some years before. By 
 an unexpected assault, in 1756, upon Fort Dummer, 
 where she happened to be present with Mr. Howe, her 
 second husband, the savages carried the fort, mur 
 dered the greater part of the garrison, mangled in 
 death her husband, and led her away with seven 
 children into captivity. She was for some months 
 kept with them ; and during their rambles she was 
 frequently on the point of perishing with hunger, and 
 as often subjected to hardships seemingly intolerable 
 to one of so delicate a frame. Some time after the 
 career of her miseries began, the Indians selected a 
 couple of their young men to marry her daughters. 
 The fright and disgust which the intelligence of this 
 intention occasioned to these poor young creatures, 
 added infinitely to the sorrows and perplexity of the 
 frantic mother. To prevent the hated connection, all 
 the activity of female resource was called intp exer 
 tion. She found an opportunity of conveying to the 
 governor a petition, that her daughters might be re- 
 
12 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 ceived into a convent for the sake of securing the 
 salvation of their souls. Happily the pious fraud 
 succeeded. 
 
 " About the same time the savages separated, and 
 carried off her other five children into different tribes. 
 She "was ransomed by an elderly French officer, for 
 four Jiundred livres. Of no avail were the cries of 
 this tender mother a mother desolated by the loss 
 of her children, who were thus torn from her fond 
 embraces, and removed many hundred miles from 
 each other, into the utmost recesses of Canada. With 
 them (could they have been kept together) she would 
 most willingly have wandered to the extremities of the 
 world, and accepted as a desirable portion the cruel 
 lot of slavery for life. But she was precluded from 
 the sweet hope of ever beholding them again. The 
 insufferable pang of parting, and the idea of eternal 
 separation, planted the arrows of despair deep in her 
 soul. Though all the world was no better than a 
 desert, and all its inhabitants were then indifferent to 
 her, yet the loveliness of her appearance in sorrow 
 had awakened affections which, in the aggravation of 
 her troubles, were to become a new source of afflictions. 
 
 " The officer who bought her of the Indians had a 
 son, who also held a commission, and resided with his 
 father. During her continuance in the same house, 
 at St. John's, the double attachment of the father and 
 son, rendered her situation extremely distressing. It is 
 true, the calmness of age delighted to gaze respectfully 
 
MRS. HOWE. 13 
 
 on her beauty ; but the impetuosity of youth was fired 
 to madness by the sight of her charms. One day, the 
 son, whose attentions had been long lavished upon her 
 in vain, finding her alone in a chamber, forcibly seized 
 her hand, and solemnly declared that he would now 
 satiate the passion which she had so long refused to 
 indulge. She recurred to entreaties, struggles, and 
 tears, those prevalent female weapons which the dis 
 traction of danger not less than the promptness of 
 genius is wont to supply ; while he in the delirium of 
 vexation and desire, snatched a dagger, and swore he 
 would put an end to her life if she persisted to struggle. 
 Mrs. Howe, assuming the dignity of conscious virtue, 
 told him it was what she most ardently wished, and 
 bade him plunge the weapon through her heart, since 
 the mutual importunities and jealousies of such rivals 
 had rendered her life, though innocent, more irksome 
 and insupportable than death itself. Struck with a 
 momentary compunction, he seemed to relent, and relax 
 his hold ; and she, availing herself of his irresolution, 
 or absence of mind, escaped down the stairs. In her 
 disordered state, she told the whole transaction to his 
 father, who directed her, in future, to sleep in a small 
 bed at the foot of that in which his wife lodged. The 
 affair soon reached the governor's ears, and the young 
 officer was, shortly afterwards, sent on a tour of duty 
 to Detroit. 
 
 " This gave hep a short respite ; but she dreaded 
 his return, and the humiliating insults for which 
 
14 HfcnuiC WOMEN OP THE WEST 
 
 she might be reserved. Her children, too, were ever 
 present in her melancholy mind. A stranger, a widow, 
 a captive, she knew not where to apply for relief. She 
 had heard of the name of Schuyler she was yet tc 
 learn that it was only another appellation for the friend 
 of suffering humanity. As that excellent man was 
 on his way from Quebec to the Jerseys, under a parole, 
 for a limited time, she came, with feeble and trem 
 bling steps, to him. The same maternal passion which 
 sometimes overcomes the timidity of nature in the 
 birds, when plundered of their callow nestlings, em 
 boldened her, notwithstanding her native diffidence, 
 to disclose those griefs which were ever ready to de 
 vour her in silence. While her delicate aspect was 
 heightened to a glowing blush, for fear of offending 
 by an inexcusable importunity, or of transgressing 
 the rules of propriety, by representing herself as being 
 an object of admiration, she told, with artless simpli 
 city, all the story of her woes. Colonel Schuyler, 
 from that moment, became her protector, and endea 
 voured to procure her liberty. The person who pur 
 chased her of the Indians, unwilling to part with so 
 fair a purchase, demanded a thousand livres as her 
 ransom. But Colonel Schuyler, on his return to 
 Quebec, obtained from the governor an order, in con 
 sequence of which Mrs. Howe was given up to him 
 for four hundred livres ; nor did his active goodness 
 rest until every one of her five sons was restored 
 to her. 
 
MRS. HOWE. 15 
 
 " Business having made it necessary that Colonel 
 Schuyler should precede the prisoners who were ex 
 changed, he recommended the fair captive to the pro 
 tection of his friend Putnam. She had just recovered 
 from the meazles, when the party was preparing to 
 set off for their homes. By this time the young 
 French officer had returned, with his passion rather 
 increased than abated by absence. He pursued her 
 wheresoever she went, and, although he could make 
 no advances in her affection, he seemed resolved, by 
 perseverance, to carry his point. Mrs. Howe, terri 
 fied by his treatment, was obliged to keep constantly 
 near Major Putnam, who informed the young officer 
 that he should protect that lady at the risk of his life. 
 
 " In the long march from captivity, through an in 
 hospitable wilderness, encumbered with five small 
 children, she suffered incredible hardships. Though 
 endowed with masculine fortitude, she was truly fe 
 minine in strength, and must have fainted by the 
 way, had it not been for the assistance of Major Put 
 nam. There were a thousand good offices which the 
 helplessness of her condition demanded, and which 
 the gentleness of his nature delighted to perform. 
 He assisted in leading her little ones, and in carrying 
 them over the swampy grounds and runs of water, 
 with which their course was frequently intersected. 
 He mingled his own mess with that of the widow and 
 the fatherless, and assisted them in supplying and 
 preparing tl .eir provisions. Upon arriving within the 
 
16 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 settlements, they experienced a reciprocal regret at 
 separation, and were only consoled by the expectation 
 of soon mingling in the embraces of their former 
 acquaintances and dearest connections. 
 
 " After the conquest of Canada, in 1760, she made 
 a journey to Quebec, in order to bring back her two 
 daughters, whom she had left in a convent. She 
 found one of them married to a French officer. The 
 other having contracted a great fondness for the reli 
 gious sisterhood, with reluctance consented to leave 
 them and return home." 
 
MRS. NEFF. 
 
 THE terrible defeat of the colonial forces under Ge 
 neral Braddock, in 1755, was followed by a series of 
 savage depredations unparalleled upon the frontier. 
 The border settlements of Virginia and Pennsylvania, 
 being left completely exposed, were nearly abandoned. 
 The inhabitants fled to the forts and block-houses, 
 leaving their homes, which had cost them much labor 
 and hardship, to* the torch of the Indian. Death and 
 desolation visited a great extent of that beautiful re 
 gion where civilized men had begun to tan\e the 
 wilderness. 
 
 Some of the borderers were not fortunate enough 
 to reach places of security before the bursting of the 
 storm. Among these was a Mrs. Neff, who lived upon 
 the south branch of the Wappatomoca. She was sur 
 prised by a party of fourteen savages, who seized and 
 bound her, plundered her house, and then started for 
 2 (17) 
 
18 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 their homes by way of Fort Pleasant. On the second 
 night of their journey, they reached the vicinity of 
 the fort, which stood on the south branch of the Po 
 tomac, near what is known as "the trough." Mrs. 
 Neff was left in the care of an old Indian. The other 
 warriors separated into parties, that they might better 
 watch the fort. 
 
 Mrs. Neff was a woman of cool, determined spirit. 
 She seemed perfectly resigned to her captivity, but 
 was nevertheless eagerly seeking an opportunity to 
 escape, and to give the garrison notice of the enemy 
 being at hand. At a late hour of the night, she dis 
 covered that the old warrior was asleep. Noiselessly 
 stealing from his side, she ran off through the woods. 
 Soon after, the old Indian awoke, saw that his pri 
 soner had escaped, and gave the alarm by firing his 
 gun and raising a yell. But the courageous woman 
 had the advantage of a long start, and a thorough 
 knowledge of the ground. She ran between the two 
 parties who were watching for her, and after a short 
 feut fearful race, succeeded in reaching Fort Pleasant. 
 The garrison being aroused, Mrs. Neff communicated 
 information as to the position of the Indians, and a 
 sally was resolved upon the next morning. 
 
 After the escape of their captive, the Indians as 
 sembled in a deep glen near the fort, where they in 
 tended to lie in ambush, for stragglers. Early the 
 next morning, sixteen men, well mounted and armed, 
 left the fort, and after a short search discovered the 
 
MRS. NEFF. 19 
 
 encampment of the enemy by the smoke of their fire. 
 The whites divided themselves into two parties, in 
 tending to inclose the Indians. But a small dog 
 starting a rabbit, gave the red men notice of the ap 
 proach of danger, and cautiously moving off, they 
 passed between the two parties of white men unobserved, 
 took position between them and their horses, and opened 
 a destructive fire. A desperate battle ensued, both 
 parties displayed the most indomitable courage. The 
 Indians were victorious, chiefly from the slaughter 
 committed by their first fire. Seven of the whites 
 were killed, and four wounded. The remaining five 
 retreated to the fort. The loss of the Indians, how 
 ever, was so severe that the survivors made an imme 
 diate march for home. They had intended to sur 
 prise the fort ; but the courage of Mrs. Neff frustrated 
 their design, and saved a large number of the garrison 
 from massacre. The heroine survived the perils of the 
 border war, and was held in high esteem for her many 
 good qualities -of head and heart. 
 
MRS. PORTER. 
 
 DURING the terrible Indian war, upon the frontier 
 of Pennsylvania and Virginia, instigated by the great 
 Pontiac, a Mr. Porter resided in Sinking Valley, 
 Huntingdon county, Pennsylvania. One day, when he 
 had gone to the mill, leaving Mrs. Porter alone, some 
 Indians approached the house. Mrs. Porter first 
 caught sight of one savage coming towards the door. 
 Her husband being a militia captain, had a sword and 
 a rifle in the house. She boldly took down the sword, 
 and having set the door about half open, waited 
 behind it until the Indian Centered, when she split his 
 head open. Another savage then entered, and met 
 the same fate. The third, seeing the slaughter of his 
 comrades, did not attempt to enter at that time. Mrs. 
 Porter then took the gun, and went up stairs, with 
 the hope of finding an opportunity of shooting the 
 savage from the port-holes. But the Indian followed 
 her up stairs. He had no sooner reached the upper 
 floor, than the brave woman turned and shot him dead. 
 
 Mrs. Porter now believed that she had slaughtered 
 all her foes. Going down stairs cautiously, she recon- 
 (20) 
 
MRS. PORTER. 21 
 
 noitred in all directions around the house, and being 
 satisfied that she had a clear field, fled swiftly in the 
 path by which she knew her husband would return. 
 She soon met him, and telling him of the circumstances, 
 mounted the horse, and rode away with him to a 
 neighboring block-house. The next morning, a party 
 of whites was collected, and marching to the scene of 
 Mrs. Porter's heroism, found that other Indians had 
 been there, and had burned the house and barn, partly 
 from revenge, and partly to conceal the evidence of 
 their discomfiture by a woman. The bones of the slain 
 savages however, were found among the ashes. 
 
MES. CLENDENNIN. 
 
 THE very sight of Indians was terrible to many 
 women on the frontier. The savages could not be 
 looked upon without calling to mind the horrid work 
 of the tomahawk and scalping-knife the desolated 
 home and the butchered relatives. To rise superior 
 to this feeling of dread was the merit of a large num 
 ber of bold-spirited daughters of tho wilderness. But 
 we question whether any other woman than Mra. 
 Clendennin would have the courage, amid scenes of 
 blood, to denounce the savages, from chief to squaw, 
 as cowardly and treacherous. 
 
 During the year 1763, a party of about fifty Sha- 
 wanese, under the command of the able chief Corn 
 stalk, made a descent upon the Greenbriar settlements, 
 of Western Virginia. They professed to entertain 
 friendly intentions, and as no hostilities had occurred 
 for some time in that region, the inhabitants were 
 lulled into the belief that there was no danger. The 
 Indians met with every demonstration of a welcome 
 (22) 
 
MBS. CLENDENNIN. 23 
 
 and abundant hospitality. Suddenly they fell upon 
 the people at Muddy Creek, butchered the men, and 
 made captives of the women and children. 
 
 A visit was next made to the settlement of Big 
 Levels, where Archibald Clendennin had erected a 
 rude block-house, and where were gathered a consi 
 derable number of families. Foolishly unsuspicious, 
 the whites entertained the savages as friends. Mr. 
 Clendennin, a man distinguished for his generosity and 
 hospitality, had just brought in three fine elk, upon 
 which the treacherous Indians feasted. One of the 
 inmates of the house was a decrepit old woman, with 
 an ulcerated limb. She undressed the member, and 
 asked an Indian if he could cure it. "Yes," he re 
 plied, and immediately sunk his tomahawk into her 
 head. This was the signal for massacre, and in a 
 few minutes, every man in the house was put to death. 
 The cries of the women and children alarmed a man 
 in the yard, who escaped, and reported the circum 
 stances to the settlement at Jackson's river. The 
 people would scarcely believe him ; but the Indians 
 soon appeared, and massacred the families that 
 attempted to escape. 
 
 Flushed with triumph and almost sated with blood, 
 the Indians now marched off in the direction of the 
 Ohio. Mrs. Clendennin was not intimidated by the 
 scenes of horror through which she had passed. She 
 had seen her husband and friends treacherously 
 butchered ; but, though a woman of keen sensibility, 
 
24 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 her spirit was firm. Indignant at the treachery 
 and cruelty of the Indians, she loudly abused them, 
 and taunted them with lacking the hearts of great 
 warriors, who met their foes in fair and open con 
 flict. The savages were astounded. They tried 
 to frighten her by flapping the bloody scalp of her 
 husband in her face, and twirling their tomahawks 
 above her head in a threatening manner. Mrs. 
 Clendennin was undaunted, and continued to ex 
 press her indignation and detestation. Probably 
 the savages admired her courage ; for they did not 
 attempt to inflict any serious injury upon her. 
 
 On the day after her capture, Mrs. Clendennin, 
 while marching among the other hapless prisoners, 
 and carrying her child, saw an opportunity, which 
 she instantly resolved to seize. Giving her child 
 to a woman, who promised to take charge of it, 
 the heroic mother slipped unobserved into a dense 
 thicket. After the march had been continued a 
 short distance, the child began to cry. An Indian 
 inquired concerning the mother, but obtained no 
 satisfactory reply. He then swore he would 
 " bring the cow to the calf," and, taking it by the 
 heels, dashed out its brains against a tree. 
 
 Mrs. Clendennin succeeded in reaching her deso 
 late home. No sign of life was to be seen there. The 
 mangled bodies of her husband and friends were 
 strewn around : all she could do was to give them 
 decent interment, which she accomplished with the 
 
MRS. CLENDENNIN. 25 
 
 lid of people from neighboring settlements. Through 
 out the trying scenes of the massacre and the cap 
 tivity, Mrs. Clendennhi acted with extraordinary firm 
 ness of spirit, and proved herself worthy to be ranked 
 with the noblest women of history. 
 
THE WIFE AND DAUGHTERS OF 
 DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 THE daring courage of Daniel Boone, the father of 
 Kentucky, has frequently been eulogized. It was cer 
 tainly a great display of hardihood for him to venture 
 alone in the forests of " the dark and bloody ground," 
 where he was surrounded by swarms of vigilant sa 
 vages. It seemed like running into the very jaws of 
 death. The manner in which he surmounted all perils 
 and hardships is also worthy of admiration. As bold 
 as he was, no man was possessed of more caution and 
 prudence, and had Kentucky pioneers always sub 
 mitted to his judicious counsel, many terrible disasters 
 might have been avoided. But whatever praise we 
 concede to Boone, we must remember that his wife 
 and daughters also deserve our eulogy. He was a 
 bold and skilful Indian fighter, and accustomed to 
 scenes of danger and death. They belonged to what 
 is commonly called a " weaker sex," were unaccus 
 tomed to the wilderness, and to the constant alarms 
 of savage warfare ; yet they ventured to accompany 
 (26) 
 
WIFE AND DAUGHTERS OF DANIEL BOONE. 27 
 
 the pioneer far into the forest, hundred of miles from 
 the settlements, with protectors insignificantly weak 
 in comparison with the vast numbers of savages who 
 were known to visit the hunting-grounds of Kentucky. 
 By the journey alone, they proved themselves to 
 possess unusual hardihood. 
 
 After his first long hunting expedition in Kentucky, 
 Daniel Boone returned to North Carolina with the 
 determination to sell his farm, and remove, with his 
 family, to the wilderness. 
 
 Accordingly, on the 25th of September, 1771, hav 
 ing disposed of all the property which he could not 
 take with him, he took leave of his friends, and com 
 menced his journey to the west. A number of milch 
 cows, and horses, laden with a few necessary utensils, 
 formed the whole of his baggage. His wife and children 
 were mounted on horseback and accompanied him, 
 every one regarding them as devoted to destruction. 
 In Powell's valley they were joined by five more fa 
 milies and forty men well armed. Encouraged by this 
 accession of strength, they advanced with additional 
 confidence, but had soon a severe warning of the future 
 dangers which awaited them. When near Cumberland 
 mountain, their rear was suddenly attacked with great 
 fury by a scouting party of Indians, and thrown into 
 considerable confusion. 
 
 The party, however, soon rallied, and being accus 
 tomed to Indian warfare, returned the fire with such 
 spirit and effect, that the Indians were repulsed with 
 
28 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 slaughter. Their own loss, however, had been severe, 
 Six men were killed on the spot, and one wounded. 
 Among the killed was Boone's eldest son, to the un 
 speakahle affliction of his family. The disorder and 
 grief occasioned by this rough reception, seems to have 
 affected the emigrants deeply, as they instantly re 
 traced their steps to settlements on Clinch river, forty 
 miles from the scene of action. Here they remained 
 until June, 1774, probably at the request of the women, 
 who must have been greatly alarmed at the prospect 
 of plunging more deeply into a country, upon the 
 the skirts of which, they had witnessed so keen and 
 bloody a conflict. 
 
 At this time, Boone, at the request of Governor 
 Dunmore, of Virginia, conducted a number of sur 
 veyors to the falls of Ohio, a distance of eight hundred 
 miles. After his return, he was engaged under Dun- 
 more until 1775 in several affairs with the Indians, 
 and at the solicitation of some gentlemen of North 
 Carolina, he attended at a treaty with the Cherokees, 
 for the purpose of purchasing the lands south of 
 Kentucky. 
 
 Boone's next visit to Kentucky was made under 
 the auspices of Colonel Henderson. Leaving his fa 
 mily on Clinch river, he set out at the head of a few 
 men, to mark out a road for the pack horses or wagons 
 of Henderson's party. This laborious and dangerous 
 duty he executed with his usual patient fortitude, unti] 
 he came within fifteen miles of the spot where Boones- 
 
WIFE AND DAUGHTERS OF DANIEL BOONE. 29 
 
 borough now stands. Here, on the 22nd of March, 
 his small party was attacked hy the Indians, and suf 
 fere'd a loss of four men killed and wounded. The In 
 dians, although repulsed with loss in this affair, re 
 newed the attack with equal fury on the next day, 
 and killed and wounded five more of the party. On 
 the 1st of April, the survivors began to build a small 
 fort on the Kentucky river, afterwards called Boones- 
 borough, and on the 4th, they were again attacked by 
 the Indians, and lost another man. Notwithstanding 
 the harassing attacks to which they were constantly 
 exposed, for the Indians seemed enraged to madness 
 at the prospect of their building houses on their hunt 
 ing-ground, the work was prosecuted with indefati 
 gable diligence, and on the 14th was completed. 
 
 Boone now returned to Clinch river for his family, 
 determined to bring them with him at every risk. This 
 was done as soon as the journey could be performed, 
 and Mrs. Boone and her daughters were the first 
 white women who stood upon the banks of the Ken 
 tucky river, as Boone himself had been the first white 
 man who ever built a cabin upon the borders of the 
 state. The first house, however, which ever stood in 
 the interior of Kentucky, was erected at Harrodsburgh, 
 in the year 1774, by James Harrod, who conducted to 
 this place a party of hunters from the banks of the 
 Monongahela. This place was, therefore, a few months 
 older than Boonesborough. Both soon became distin 
 guished, as the only places in which hunters and 
 
30 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 surveyors could find security from the fury of th 
 Indians. 
 
 Within a few weeks after the arrival of Mrs. Boone 
 and her daughters, the infant colony was reinforced 
 by three more families, at the head of which were Mrs. 
 McGrary, Mrs. Hogan, and Mrs. Denton. Boonesbo- 
 rough, however, was the central object of Indian hos 
 tilities, and scarcely had his family become domesti 
 cated in their new possession, when they were suddenly 
 attacked by a party of Indians, and lost one of their 
 garrison. This was on the 24th of December, 1775. 
 
 In the following July, however, a much more 
 alarming incident occurred. One of the daughters, in 
 company with a Miss Galloway, were amusing them 
 selves in a boat in the immediate neighborhood of the 
 fort, when a party of Indians, suddenly rushed out of 
 of a canebrake, and, intercepting their return, took 
 them prisoners.* 
 
 The shouts of the girls quickly alarmed the family. 
 The small garrison was dispersed, being engaged in 
 their usual occupations ; but Boone hastily collected 
 eight men and pursued the enemy. The Indians had the 
 advantage of a start of several miles. The pursuit, 
 however, was urged through the night by the anxious 
 father, and on the following day, he had the satisfac 
 tion of coming up with the Indians. The girls were 
 almost overcome with fatigue ; and they expected tc 
 be tomahawked every moment; but they refrained 
 
 *McClung's Western Adventure. 
 
WIFE AND DAUGHTEBS OF DANIEL BOONE. 31 
 
 from murmuring, and, by seeming to accompany their 
 captors with a hearty will, were saved from the toma 
 hawk. Boone's attack was sudden and furious, so 
 that the Indians were driven from their ground before 
 they had an opportunity to kill their captives, who 
 were recovered by the victorious party. The Indians 
 lost two men, while Boone's party was entirely unin 
 jured. The happy father then returned to Boones- 
 borough with the girls whom he had saved from a long 
 and dreary captivity, if not from death. 
 
 From this time until long after the bloody defeat 
 of the whites at the Blue Licks, Boonesborough was 
 constantly exposed to the harassing attacks of the 
 Indians. The men of the garrison could not venture 
 far from the fort, for savages were lurking around, 
 watching opportunities to pick off stragglers. Mrs. 
 Boone, her daughters, and the other females in the 
 fort, were in a constant state of alarm ; and it was 
 truly wonderful that they persuaded themselves to re 
 main amid such perils. They survived all the dangers 
 they had so nobly braved, and lived to see Kentucky, 
 the prosperous home of civilization, where their names 
 will ever be remembered with gratitude and pride. 
 
THE WAK-WOMAN CEBEK. 
 
 In Georgia and North Carolina there is hardly a 
 river, creek, or stream, that has not connected with 
 it some old Indian tradition. The title of the present 
 sketch is taken from one of these I believe one of 
 the principal tributaries of Natahalee river, in the 
 Cherokee nation, North Carolina. The story, as told 
 by the few Indians remaining since the removal in the 
 fall of 1838, runs thus : 
 
 Many years ago, in the first settlement of the 
 country, a wandering party of their tribe attacked the 
 house of a squatter, somewhere upon their borders, 
 during his absence, and massacred all his children, 
 and left his wife covered with the mangled bodies of 
 her butchered offspring ; scalped like them and ap 
 parently dead. She was not, however, wounded so 
 badly as they had supposed, and no sooner did she 
 hear the sound of their retreating footsteps, than dis 
 engaging herself from the heap of slain, haggard, pale, 
 and drenched with her own and the blood of her chil- 
 ren, she peered steadily from the door, and finding 
 (32) 
 
THE WAR-WOMAN CREEK. 33 
 
 her enemies no longer in sight, hastily extinguished 
 the fire, which before leaving they had applied to her 
 sabin, but which had, as yet, made very little impres 
 sion on the green logs of which it was composed. 
 
 Wiping from her eyes the warm blood, still reeking 
 from her scalpless head, she directed her agonized 
 gaze to the bleeding and disfigured forms of those who 
 scarce an hour before were playing at the door, and 
 gladdening her maternal heart with their merry laugh 
 ter, and as she felt, in the full sense of her desolation, 
 the last ray of hope die within her bosom, there stole 
 over her ghostly face an expression as savage as was 
 ever worn by the ruthless slayers of her innocent 
 babes. Her eye gleamed with the wild fury of the 
 tigress robbed of i* young, as closing her cabin care 
 fully behind her, witn a countenance animated by some 
 desperate purpose, she started off in the same path by 
 which the murderers had departed. Heedless of her 
 wounds and wasting blood, and lost to all sense of 
 hunger and fatigue in the one absorbing and fell pur 
 pose which actuated her, she paused not upon the trail 
 of her foes, until at night, she came up with them en 
 camped at the side of the creek, which is indebted to 
 her for its present name. 
 
 Emerging from the gloom of the surrounding dark 
 ness, on her hands and knees she noiselessly crept to 
 wards the fire, the blaze of which, as it flickered up 
 wards, discovered to her the prostrate^ forms of the 
 Indians, wno overcome by an unusually fatiguing 
 3 ' 
 
34 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 day's travel, were wrapt in deep sleep, with their only 
 weapons, their tomahawks, in their belts. Her steak 
 thily advancing figure, as the uncertain light of the 
 burning pine fell upon it with more or less distinctness 
 now exposing its lineaments clotted with blood, and 
 distorted by an expression, which her wrongs, and the 
 desolaters of her hearthstone, exaggerated to a degree 
 almost fiendish ; and now shading all, save two gleam 
 ing, spectral eyes was even more striking than the 
 swarthy faces which she glared upon. 
 
 Assuring herself that they were fast asleep she 
 gently removed their tomahawks, and dropped all but 
 one in the creek. With this remaining weapon in her 
 hand, and cool resolution in her heart, she bent over 
 the nearest enemy, and lifting the instrument, to which 
 her own and her children's blood still adhered, with 
 one terrific and unerring blow, buried it into the tem 
 ple of its owner. The savage moved no more than 
 partly to turn upon his side, gasped a little, quivered a 
 minute like an aspen, and sunk back to his former po 
 sition, quite dead. Smiling ghastly in his rigid face, 
 the desperate woman left him, and noiselessly as before 
 despatched all the sleepers, but one, to that long rest 
 from which only the last trump can awaken them. 
 
 The last devoted victim, however was roused to a 
 consciousness of his situation by the death struggles, 
 of his companions. He sprang to his feet and felt for 
 his weapon. It was not there, and one glance explain 
 ing every thing to him, he evaded the blow aimed at 
 
THE WAR-WOMAN CREEK. 35 
 
 him by the brave and revengeful mother, seized from 
 the fire a burning brand, and with it, succeeded par 
 tially in warding off the furious attack which followed 
 In a little time they fell struggling together, the In 
 dian desperately wounded, and the unfortunate woman 
 faint with the loss of blood and her extraordinary ex 
 ertions. Both were too weak to harm each other now, 
 and the wounded savage only availed himself of hia 
 remaining strength to crawl away. In this piteous 
 plight, the poor woman remained until near noon on 
 the folio wing day, when she was accidentally discovered 
 by a straggling party of whites, to whom she told 
 her story, and then died. After burying her on 
 the spot, they made some exertions to overtake the 
 fugitive Indian, but unsuccessfully. He succeeded in 
 reaching his tribe, and from his tale the little stream, 
 before mentioned, was ever afterwards known among 
 the Cherokees, and also by the pale faces, as the 
 " War- Woman Creek." 
 
 The instance of intrepidity in a woman, recorded 
 in the above sketch, furnishes a remarkable proof 
 that the heroism of woman, to whatever excesses of 
 daring and even ferocious courage it may lead her, 
 has its foundation in love. It was this "War- Wo 
 man's" love for her children, that made her exhaust 
 the last energy of a life, which had lost its motive and 
 its charm, in taking vengeance on their murderers. 
 Under such circumstances, it is difficult to imagine 
 the extent to which a woman's outraged affections 
 
36 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 will not carry her. Here we see one of the gentle 
 and devoted sex, losing all sense of danger, all feeling 
 of compassion, all regard to her own personal safety, 
 and her ultimate fate, in the desire to avenge the 
 cruel murder of her children. The fact seems startling 
 and almost incredible ; but it is corroborated by many 
 other facts illustrating the same principle. 
 
ELIZABETH ZANE. 
 
 * 
 
 DURING the hottest part of the revolutionary war, 
 Fort Henry, situated near the site of the present city 
 of Wheeling, was the stronghold of northwestern Vir 
 ginia. It was a simple stockade fort, and its garrison 
 was exceedingly small. Yet it was twice defended 
 against the furious assaults of large Indian armies, 
 headed hy bold and skilful white men. The incidents 
 we are about to relate occurred during the second 
 siege of Fort Henry. 
 
 On the night of the 26th of November, 1782, Cap 
 tain Joseph Ogle, with a small scouting party, while 
 on his return to the fort from an excursion up the 
 Ohio, descried a faint but constant body of smoke 
 rising in the air to the southward of Wheeling. Im 
 pressed with the conviction that the smoke was caused 
 by the burning of the block-house at Grave Creek, 
 about twelve miles below, he hastened to the fort and 
 mentioned the circumstance to Colonel Shepherd, the 
 commandant, who lost no time in dispatching twc 
 men, in a canoe, down the river to ascertain the truth 
 
 (37) 
 
38 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 In the course of the night all the inhabitants of the 
 village fled to the fort for shelter and safety, and se 
 veral families residing in the neighborhood were sent 
 for and brought in before* the dawn of day. 
 
 The garrison numbered only forty-two fighting men. 
 Some of these were far advanced in years, while others 
 were mere boys. A portion of them were skilled in 
 Indian warfare, and all were excellent marksmen. The 
 store-house was well supplied with small-arms, particu 
 larly muskets, but was sadly deficient in ammunition. 
 
 At the break of day on the 27th, the commandant 
 wishing to dispatch expresses to the nearest settle- 
 'inents, sent a man, accompanied by a negro, out of 
 the fort to bring in some horses, which had been 
 turned loose the day before to graze on the bank of 
 the creek. While these men were passing through 
 the cornfield south of the fort, they encountered a, 
 party of six Indians, one of whom raised his firelock 
 and brought the white man to the ground. The negro, 
 seized with alarm, turned about and fled to the fort, 
 which he succeeded in entering without being pursued 
 or molested by the enemy. As soon as the negro re 
 lated his story, the colonel dispatched Captain Samuel 
 Mason, with fourteen men, to dislodge the Indiana 
 from the cornfield. Captain Mason with his party 
 marched through the field, and arrived almost on the 
 bank of the creek without finding the Indians, and 
 had already commenced a retrograde movement when 
 he was suddenly and furiously assailed in front, flank. 
 
ELIZABETH ZANE. 89 
 
 and rear, by the whole of Girty's army. The captain 
 rallied his men from the confusion produced by this 
 unexpected demonstration of the enemy, and instantly 
 comprehending the situation in which he was placed, 
 gallantly took the lead and hewed a passage through 
 the savage phalanx that opposed him. In this despe 
 rate conflict more than half the little band was slain, 
 and their leader severely wounded. Intent on retreat 
 ing back to the fort, Mason pressed rapidly on with the 
 remnant of his command, the Indians following closely 
 in pursuit. One by one these devoted soldiers fell at 
 the crack of the enemy's rifle. An Indian, who eagerly 
 pursued Captain Mason, at length overtook him ; and 
 to make sure of his prey, fired at him from the dis 
 tance of five paces ; but the shot, although it took 
 effect, did not disable the captain, who immediately 
 turned about, and hurling his gun at the head of his 
 pursuer, felled him to the earth. The fearlessness 
 with which this act was performed caused an involun 
 tary dispersion of the gang of Indians who led the 
 pursuit : and Mason, whose extreme exhaustion of 
 physical powers prevented him from reaching the fort, 
 was fortunate enough to hide himself in a pile of fallen 
 timber, where he was compelled to remain to the end 
 of the siege. Only two of his men survived the skir- 
 mish, and they, like their leader, owed their safety to 
 the heaps of logs and brush, that abounded in the 
 cornfield. 
 
 As soon as the critical situation of Captain Mason 
 
40 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 became known at the fort, Captain Ogle, with twelve 
 rolunteers from the garrison, sallied forth to cover hirt 
 retreat. This noble, self-devoted band, in their eager 
 ness to press -forward to the relief of their suffering 
 fellow-soldiers, fell into an ambuscade, and two-thirds 
 of their number were slain upon the spot. Sergeant 
 Jacob Ogle, though mortally wounded, managed to 
 escape with two soldiers into the woods, while Captain 
 Ogle escaped in another direction, and found a place of 
 concealment, which, like his brother, Captain Mason, 
 he was obliged to keep as long as the siege, continued. 
 Immediately after the departure of Captain Ogle's 
 command, three new volunteers left the garrison to 
 overtake and reinforce him. These men, however, 
 did not reach the cornfield until after the bloody 
 scenes had been enacted, and barely found time to re 
 turn to the fort before the Indian host appeared before 
 it. The enemy advanced in two ranks, in open order- 
 their left flank reaching to the river bank, and their 
 right extending into the woods as far as the eye could 
 Teach. As the three volunteers were about to enter 
 the gate, a few random shots were fired at them, and 
 instantly a loud whoop arose on the enemy's left flank, 
 which passed, as if by concert, along the line to the 
 extreme right, until the welkin was filled with a chorus 
 of the most wild and startling character. This salute 
 was responded to by a few well directed rifle shots 
 from the lower block-houses, which produced a mani 
 fest confusion in the ranks of the besiegers. They 
 
ELIZABETH ZANE. 41 
 
 discontinued their shouting and retired a few paces^ 
 probably to await the coming up of their right flank, 
 which, it would seem, had been directed to make a 
 general sweep of the bottom, and then approach the 
 stockade on the eastern side. 
 
 At this moment the garrison of Fort Henry num 
 bered no more than twelve men and boys. The for 
 tunes of the day, so far, had been fearfully against 
 them ; two of their best officers and more than two- 
 thirds of their original force were missing. The exact 
 fate of their comrades was unknown to them, but they 
 had every reason to apprehend that they had been cut 
 to pieces. Still they were not dismayed their mo^ 
 thers, sisters, wives and children were assembled around 
 them they had a sacred charge to protect, and they 
 resolved to fight to the last extremity, and confidently 
 trusted in Heaven for the successful issue of the 
 combat. 
 
 When the enemy's right flank came up, Girty 
 changed his order of attack. Parties of Indians were 
 placed in such of the houses as commanded a view of 
 the block-houses ; a strong body occupied the yard of 
 Ebenezer Zane, about fifty yards from the fort, using 
 a paling fence as a cover, while the greater part were 
 posted under cover in the edge of the cornfield, to act 
 offensively or serve as a corps of reserve, as occasion 
 might require. These dispositions having been made, 
 with a white flag in his hand, he appeared at the window 
 of a cabin and demanded the surrender of the garrison 
 
42 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 in the name of his Britannic majesty. He read thr. 
 proclamation of Governor Hamilton, and promised 
 them protection if they would lay down their arms and 
 swear allegiance to the British crown. He warned 
 them to submit peaceably, and admitted his inability 
 to restrain the passions of his warriors when they once 
 became excited with the strife of battle. Colonel 
 Shepherd promptly told him, in reply, that the garri 
 son would never surrender to him, and that he could 
 only obtain possession of the fort when there remained 
 no longer an American soldier to defend it. Girty 
 renewed his proposition, but before he finished his 
 harangue a thoughtless youth in one of the block-houses 
 fired a gun at the speaker, and brought the conference 
 to an abrupt termination. Girty disappeared, and in 
 about fifteen minutes the Indians opened the siege by 
 a general discharge of rifles. 
 
 It was yet quite early in the morning, the sun not 
 having appeared above the summit of Wheeling hill, 
 and the day is represented to have been one of sur 
 passing beauty. The Indians not entirely concealed 
 from the view of the garrison, kept up a brisk fire for 
 the space of six hours without much intermission. The 
 little garrison, in spite of its heterogeneous character, 
 was, with scarcely an exception, composed of sharp 
 shooters. Several of them, whose experience in In 
 dian warfare gave them a remarkable degree of coolness 
 and self-possession in the face of danger, infused con 
 fidence into the young ; and, as they never fired at 
 
ELIZABETH ZANE. 43 
 
 random, their bullets, in most cases, took effect. The 
 Indians, on the contrary, flushed with their previous 
 success, their tomahawks reeking with the blood of 
 Mason's and Ogle's men, and all of them burning with 
 impatience to rush into the fort and complete their 
 work of butchery, discharged their guns against the 
 pickets, the gate, the logs of the block-houses, and 
 every other object that seemed to shelter a white man. 
 Their fire was thus thrown away. At length some of 
 their most daring warriors rushed up close to the block 
 houses, and attempted to make more sure work by firing 
 through the logs ; but these reckless savages received 
 from the well-direeted rifles of the frontiersmen the 
 fearful reward of their temerity. About one o'clock 
 the Indians discontinued their fire and fell back against 
 the base of the hill. 
 
 The stock of gunpowder in the fort having been 
 nearly exhausted, it was determined to seize the favo 
 rable opportunity offered by the suspension of hostili 
 ties, to send for a keg of powder which was known to 
 be in the house of Ebenezer Zane, about sixty yards 
 from the gate of the fort. The person executing this 
 service would necessarily expose himself to the danger 
 of being shot down by the Indians, who were yet suf 
 ficiently near to observe every thing that transpired 
 about the works. The colonel explained the matter 
 to his men, and, unwilling to order one of them to 
 undertake such a desperate enterprise, inquired 
 whether any man would volunteer for the service 
 
44 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Three or four young men promptly stepped forward in 
 obedience to the call. The colonel informed them that 
 the weak state of the garrison would not justify the 
 absence of more than one man, and that it was for 
 themselves to decide who that person should be. The 
 eagerness felt by each volunteer to undertake the 
 honorable mission, prevented them from making the 
 arrangement proposed by the commandant; and so 
 much time was consumed in the contention between 
 them that fears began to arise that the Indians would 
 renew the attack before the powder could be procured. 
 At this moment of indescision, a woman came for 
 ward as a volunteer upon the perilous, but necessary 
 service. Elizabeth Zane, the sister of Ebenezer and 
 Silas Zane, a young woman of a calm, determined 
 spirit of heroism, desired that she might be permitted 
 to go for the ammunition. The proposition seemed 
 so extravagant that it was met with a peremptory re 
 fusal. But Elizabeth pleaded earnestly, and all the 
 remonstrances and representations of the colonel and 
 and her relatives were of no avail. Her purpose was 
 not to be shaken. The colonel said that either of the 
 young men, qn account of his superior fleetness and 
 familiarity with scenes of danger, would be more likely 
 than herself to do the work successfully. She replied 
 that the danger attending the errand was the identical 
 reason that induced her to offer her services, for as 
 the garrison was very weak, no soldier's life should be 
 placed in jeopardy needlessly, and if she fell her losa 
 
ELIZABETH ZANE. 45 
 
 would not be felt. Heroic, but mistaken woman ! 
 The world sustains its heaviest loss when such spirits 
 fall. At length, the petition of Miss Zane was granted, 
 her relatives preparing to see her sacrificed. The gate 
 was opened for her to pass out. The opening of the 
 gate attracted the attention of some straggling In 
 dians, and they stopped to gaze at the fearless girl, 
 as she advanced towards the house of her brother. 
 Savages as they were, they were spell-bound by such 
 a display of daring by a woman. They permitted her 
 to enter the house, where she filled her apron with 
 powder. When she reappeared, the Indians, suspect 
 ing the character of her burden, and losing their ad 
 miration in the desire to cut off supplies from the gar 
 rison, they fired a volley at her as she swiftly glided 
 towards the gate ; but the balls all flew wide of the 
 mark, and the fearless girl entered the fort, amid the 
 shouts of her friends and relatives. Such an effort of 
 courage, and exhibition of generous devotion was 
 worthy of any heroine of history. Though Elizabeth 
 Zane had no queen's title, she was one of the queens 
 by divine right, to whom all may do homage. The 
 highest effort of heroism is the offer of one's life to save 
 others, and in this kind of nobility, Miss Zane was 
 prominent. 
 
 Ammunition being secured, the spirit of the garri 
 son revived ; and reinforcements arriving soon after, 
 the assailants were completely baffled, and compelled 
 to a retreat, which they performed with precipitation. 
 
46 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Fort Henry and the frontiers were saved. All honor 
 to the gallant garrison. All honor to the wives and 
 daughters there collected ; and, above all, a fadeless 
 laurel to Elizabeth Zane. 
 
MBS. CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 MRS. CUNNINGHAM deserves a share of the praise 
 awarded to Mrs. Clendennin for firmness amid scenes 
 of blood and death. The incidents of her capture, 
 captivity, and release, possess a strong interest, and 
 show the noble character of the heroine. 
 
 The house of Edward Cunningham, an enterprising 
 settler, was situated on Bingamon, a branch of West 
 Fork. Thomas Cunningham, a brother of Edward, 
 lived in a house almost adjoining. The two families 
 thus afforded some protection to each other. In the 
 latter part of June, 1785, a small party of Indians 
 approached the houses of the settlers, with designs of 
 plunder and massacre. At that time, Edward and 
 his family were in one cabin, and the wife of Thomas, 
 with four children, were in the other. Thomas Cun 
 ningham had gone east on a trading expedition. Both 
 families were eating their dinners, when a huge sa 
 vage entered the house of Thomas Cunningham, and 
 stood before the astonished mother and her children, 
 with drawn knife, and uplifted tomahawk. Edward 
 
 (47) 
 
48 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Cunningham had seen the entrance of the Indian 
 through a hole in the wall of his house, and he now 
 eagerly watched the movements of the savage. A 
 similar hole being in the wall of Thomas Cunningham's 
 house, the Indian fired through it and shouted for vic 
 tory. He then commenced cutting an opening in the 
 back wall, with an adze, so that he might pass out 
 without being exposed to a shot from the other house. 
 Edward shot another Indian who appeared in the 
 yard, just after the savage in the house had fired 
 his gun. 
 
 In the meantime, Mrs. Cunningham made no at 
 tempt to get out, though she retained her presence of 
 mind. She knew that an effort to escape would meet 
 with certain death from those who were watching out 
 side of the house. 
 
 She knew, too, it would be impossible to take the 
 children with her. She expected that the Indian 
 inside would withdraw without molesting any of them. 
 A few minutes served to convince her of the hopeless 
 folly of trusting to an Indian's mercy. When the 
 opening had been made sufficiently large, the savage 
 raised his tomahawk, sunk it deep into the brains of 
 one of the children, and throwing the scarcely lifeless 
 body into the back yard, ordered the mother to follow 
 him. There was no alternative but death, and she 
 obeyed his order, stepping over the dead body of one 
 of her children, with an infant in her arms, and two 
 screaming by her side. When all were out he scalped 
 
MRS. CUNNINGHAM. 49 
 
 the murdered boy, and setting fire to the house retired 
 to an eminence, where two of the savages were with 
 their wounded companion, -leaving the other two to 
 watch the opening of Edward Cunningham's door, 
 when the burning of the house should force the family 
 from their shelter. They were disappointed in their 
 expectation of that event by the exertions of Cunning 
 ham and his son. When the flame from the one house 
 communicated to the roof of the other, they ascended 
 to the loft, threw off the loose boards which covered it, 
 and extinguishing the fire ; the savages shooting at 
 them all the while; their balls frequently striking 
 close by. 
 
 Unable to force out the family of Edward Cunning 
 ham, and despairing of doing further injury, they beat 
 a speedy retreat.* 
 
 Before they started, however, they tomahawked 
 and scalped the eldest son of Mrs. Cunningham before 
 her eyes. Her little daughter was next murdered and 
 scalped in the same way. The mother was horror- 
 stricken, but, though in momentary expectation of 
 meeting a similar fate, she remained self-possessed. 
 Carrying her babe, she was led from the scene of blood 
 shed. The savages carried their wounded companions 
 upon a litter. Crossing a ridge, they found a cave near 
 Bingamon creek, in which they secreted themselves 
 until after night, when some of the party returned tc 
 
 *DeHaas. 
 
"SO HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST.- 
 
 Edward Cunningham's, and finding that the inmates 
 had fled, set fire to the house. 
 
 The whole party now took up its march towards the 
 Indian towns. During the journey, Mrs. Cunningham 
 suffered mental and physical pangs not to be described. 
 While weeping for her murdered children she was 
 compelled to be constantly attentive to the helpless 
 babe in her arms. For ten days her only nourishment 
 was the head of a wild turkey and a few paw-paws. 
 
 After the savages had withdrawn, Edward Cunning 
 ham went with his family into the woods, where they 
 remained all night, there being no settlement nearer 
 than ten miles. In the morning, the alarm was given, 
 and a company of men soon collected to go in pursuit 
 of the Indians. When the company arrived at Cun 
 ningham's and found both houses heaps of ashes, they 
 buried the remains of the boy who was murdered in 
 the house, with the bodies of his brother and little 
 sister, who were killed in the field ; but so cautiously 
 had the savages conducted their retreat, that no traces 
 of them could be found, and the disappointed whites 
 returned to their homes. Subsequently, a second 
 party started in pursuit, and succeeded in tracing the 
 Indians to the cave ; but the trail could be followed 
 no further, with certainty, and the pursuit was given 
 up. Mrs. Cunningham afterwards stated, that at the 
 time of the search on the first day, the Indians were 
 in the cave, and that several times the whites ap- 
 roached so near, that she could distinctly hear their 
 
MKS. CUNNINGHAM. 51 
 
 voices. Savages stood with their guns ready to fire, 
 in the event of being discovered, and forced the mother 
 to keep her infant to her breast, to prevent its crying. 
 Had the place of concealment been discovered, it is 
 most probable that Mrs. Cunningham and her child 
 would have been tomahawked. 
 
 Mrs. Cunningham spent many months in captivity, 
 her husband being ignorant of her fate. At length, 
 that man of bad repute Simon Girty, interfered 
 on her behalf, paid her ransom, and sent her home. 
 This noble act was an atonement for many deeds of 
 darkness, and shows that the renegade was not so 
 destitute of generosity as he is commonly represented 
 to have been. Mrs. Cunningham's claims to the cha 
 racter of a heroine are undeniable. Few women could 
 have passed through such hardships and horrors,, with 
 guch self-control as she displayed. 
 
MES. BLAND MRS. POLK. 
 
 AFTER the famous battle of Blue Licks, the Indian 
 army, victorious on that fatal field, determined to re 
 turn home with the scalps. A portion of them, how 
 ever, passing through Jefferson county, showed a hostile 
 disposition, and were pursued by Colonel Flood, with 
 a party of militiamen. After an unsuccessful pursuit, 
 a portion of this force, at Kincheloe's station, sup 
 posing themselves secure, went to sleep at night, 
 without a watch. In the night, the enemy fell upon 
 the place by surprise ; and were in the houses before 
 the people were awake. Thus circumstanced, they 
 killed several persons, men, women, and children, and 
 were proceeding to destroy or capture the rest, but 
 the darkness of night favored the* escape of a few. 
 
 Among them was Mrs. Davis, whose husband was 
 killed and another woman, who fled to the woods 
 where they were fortunately joined by a lad, by the 
 name of Ash, who conducted them to Coxe's station. 
 
 William Harrison, after placing his wife and a young 
 woman, of the family, under the floor of the cabin, 
 (52) 
 
MRS. BL4.ND AND MRS. POLK. 53 
 
 escaped ; as they did, after the Indians had retired ; 
 and he returned to liberate them. Thompson Ran 
 dolph stood his ground manfully for awhile, and de 
 fended his wife and children like a hero. He killed 
 several Indians soon, however, his wife, and an in 
 fant in her arms, were hoth murdered by his side 
 his remaining child, he put into the cabin loft, then 
 mounted himself, and escaped with it through the 
 roof. When he alighted on the ground, he was as 
 sailed by two of the savages, whom he had just forced 
 out of the house one of these he stabbed, the other 
 he struck with his empty gun they both left him, 
 and he, dragging the child after him, secured his re 
 treat and the safety of both. This representation of 
 facts, obtained full credit in the neighborhood, and 
 with his acquaintances. A signal instance of manly 
 perseverance. 
 
 Several women and children were cruelly put to 
 death, after they were made prisoners, and on the 
 route to the towns. But the details of such savage 
 barbarity are omitted, in order to attend the case of 
 Mrs. Bland, who was not killed, probably because she 
 was not a prisoner, after the second day when she 
 escaped into the bushes totally unacquainted with 
 the country around her, and destitute of any guide. 
 
 For eighteen successive days she rambled through 
 the woods, without seeing a human face ; subsisting 
 upon sour grapes, and green walnuts ; until she be 
 came a mere walking skeleton, without clothes ; when 
 
54 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 she was accidentally found, and taken to Lynn's sta 
 tion. Where kind attention and cautious nursing 
 restored her to life and her friends. 
 
 The situation of Mrs. Polk, another prisoner, with 
 four small children, was almost as pitiable as that of 
 Mrs. Bland. She was in a delicate state, and com 
 pelled to walk until she became nearly incapable of 
 motion. She was then threatened with death, and 
 the tomahawk brandished over her head by an Indian ; 
 when another who saw it begged her life took her 
 under his care mounted her on a horse, with her two 
 children and conducted her safe to Detroit ; where 
 those went who had prisoners or scalps to dispose of 
 to purchasers. She was of course purchased, as she 
 was there given up to British authority well treated 
 and enabled to write to her husband, who was not at 
 home when she was taken, though a resident of the 
 station. Relying on the letter, which he received 
 after some time, as a passport from the British, and 
 incurring the risk of danger from the Indians, he 
 went for his wife, obtained her, and brought her and 
 five children safe to Kentucky. After the peace cf 
 next year, the other prisoners were also liberated, and 
 came home. 
 
MASSY HERBESON. 
 
 THE captivity, sufferings, and escape of Mrs. Massy 
 Herbeson and her family, occupy a conspicuous place 
 in every history of Indian atrocity. We give her nar 
 rative as it was deposed before an alderman of Alle- 
 gliany county, Pennsylvania. Mrs. Herbeson lived 
 near Reed's block-house, about twenty-five miles from 
 Pittsburg. 
 
 Mr. Herbeson, being one of the spies, was from 
 home ; two of the scouts had lodged with her that 
 night, but had left her house about sunrise, in order 
 to go to the block-house, and had left the door stand 
 ing wide open. Shortly after the two scouts went 
 away, a number of Indians came into the house, and 
 drew her, out of bed by the feet ; the two eldest child 
 ren, who also lay in another bed were drawn out in 
 the same manner ; a younger child, about one year 
 old, slept with Mrs. Herbeson. -The Indians then 
 scrambled about the articles in the house. Whilst 
 they were at this work, Mrs. Herbeson went out of 
 the house, and hallooed to the people in the block 
 house ; one of the Indians then ran up and stopped 
 her mouth, another ran up with his tomahawk drawn. 
 
56 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 and a third ran and seized the tomahawk and called 
 her his squaw ; this last Indian claimed her as his, and 
 continued by her. About fifteen of the Indians then ran 
 down toward the block-house and fired their guns at 
 the store and block-house, in consequence of which one 
 soldier was killed and another wounded, one having 
 been at the spring and the other in coming or looking 
 out of the store-house. On Mrs. Herbeson, telling the 
 Indians there were about forty men in the block-house, 
 and each man had two guns, the Indians went to them 
 that were firing at the block-house, and brought them 
 back. They then began to drive Mrs. Herbeson and 
 her children back ; but a boy, about three years old, 
 being unwilling to leave the house, they took it by 
 the heels, and dashed it against the house and then 
 stabbed and scalped it. They then took Mrs. Herbe 
 son and the two other children to the top of the hill, 
 where they stopped until they tied up the plunder 
 they had got. While they were busy about this, Mrs. 
 Herbeson counted" them, and the number amounted to 
 thirty-two, including two white men, that were with 
 them, painted like the Indians. 
 
 Several of the Indians could speak English, and 
 she knew three or four of them very well, having often 
 seen them go up and down the Alleghany river ; two 
 of them she knew to be Senecas, and two Munsees, 
 who had their guns mended by her husband two years 
 ago. They sent two Indians with her, and the others 
 took their course towards Pluckty. The children and 
 
MASSY HARBESON. 57 
 
 the two Indians had not gone above two hundred yards, 
 when the Indians caught two of her uncle's horses, 
 put her and the youngest child upon one,and one of 
 the Indians and the other child upon the other. The 
 two Indians then took her and the children to the 
 Alleghany river, and took them over in bark canoes, 
 as they could not get the horses to swim the river. 
 After they had crossed the river, the oldest child, a 
 boy of about five years of age, began to mourn for 
 his brother, when one of the Indians tomahawked and 
 scalped him. They travelled all day very hard, and 
 that night arrived at a large camp, covered with bark, 
 which, by appearance, might hold fifty men. That 
 night they took her about three hundred yards from 
 the camp, into a large dark bottom, bound her arms, 
 gave her some bed clothes, and lay down on each side 
 of her. The next morning they took her into a thicket 
 on the hill side, and one remained with her till the 
 middle of the day. While the other went to watch 
 the path, lest some white people should follow them. 
 They then exchanged places during the remainder of 
 the day : she got a piece of dry venison, the size of an 
 egg, that day, and a piece about the same size the day 
 they were marching ; that evening, (Wednesday 23d) 
 they moved her to a new place, and secured her as 
 the night before. During the day of the 23d, she 
 made several attempts to get the Indian's gun or 
 tomahawk, that was guarding her, and, had she suc 
 ceeded, she would have put him to death. She wag 
 
58 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 nearly detected in trying to get the tomahawk from 
 his belt. 
 
 The next morning (Thursday) one of the Indiana 
 went out, as on the day before, to watch the path. 
 The other lay down and fell asleep. When she found 
 he was sleeping, she stole her short gown, handker 
 chief, a child's frock, and then made her escape ; the 
 sun was then about half an hour high when she took 
 her course from the Alleghany, in order to deceive the 
 Indians, as they would naturally pursue her that way ; 
 that day she travelled along Conequenessing Creek. 
 The next day she altered her course, and, as she 
 believes, fell upon the waters of Pine Creek, which 
 empties into the Alleghany. Thinking this not her 
 best course, went over some dividing ridges, lay on 
 a dividing ridge on Friday night, and on Saturday came 
 to Squaw run continued down the run until an In 
 dian or some other person, shot a deer ; she saw the 
 person about one hundred and fifty yards from her. 
 
 She then altered her course, but again, came to the 
 same run, and continued down it until she got so tired 
 that she was obliged to lie down, it having rained upon 
 her all day and the night before; she remained there 
 that night ; it rained constantly. On Sunday she pro 
 ceeded down the run until she came to the Alleghany 
 river, and continued down the river till she came op 
 posite Carter's house, on the inhabited side, where she 
 made a noise, and James Closier brought her over the 
 river to Carter's house. 
 
MRS. WHITE. 
 
 AFTER the defeat of General St. Glair's army, in 
 November, 1791, the frontier on the west was more 
 than ever exposed to the hostilities of the savage foe ; 
 and many instances of terrible outrage, on individuals 
 living in exposed situations, are recorded as having 
 taken place at that gloomy period. In April, 1792, 
 information was received, that the Cherokees, of five 
 towns, would join the Shawanese, in a war against 
 Kentucky. One incident of this war was productive 
 of an act of heroism, which Mr. Butler records in his 
 " History of Kentucky," as given below. It is only 
 to be regretted that the historian has not given us 
 more fully the details of the affair. His account is 
 as follows : 
 
 " Towards the end of the month, an incident of In 
 dian hostility occurred, which produced more than 
 ordinary interest. A Mrs. White, in the vicinity of 
 Frankfort, defended her house against nine Indians ; 
 killed one of them, and scared the others. The facts 
 are these : a few families, forming a small station, 
 
 (59) 
 
60 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 were engaged in their usual occupations ; some of the 
 men absent, some about the yard ; the women, two or 
 three in number, were in Mrs. White's house ; when 
 nine of the enemy surprise the place, kill three white 
 men, as many negroes, and make the rest prisoners. 
 The women shut and bar the door. It is immediately 
 assailed by the savages, who attempt, but in vain, to 
 force it. A part of them next try to fire the wall ; 
 others mount to the roof, which is of boards, and 
 which must soon have enabled the Indians, by re 
 moving them, to enter the house. In this situation, 
 which might have appalled an ordinary hero, Mrs. White 
 seized her husband's rifle, and fired it, with so good 
 an aim, that one of the Indians was killed and the 
 rest, seeing him fall, instantly fled. 
 
 A few days after, one man was killed, and another 
 taken prisoner. By this time the neighboring militia 
 were collected, and pursuing the enemy, killed one of 
 them and rescued the prisoners. About the same time, 
 two men were killed near the upper Blue Licks. Such 
 was the terrible scene exhibited by the war. Of 
 which this seemed but a repetition of others which 
 had preceded. 
 
MES. DUEEE. 
 
 IN 1779, a settlement was founded at White Oak 
 Spring, about a mile above Boonesborough, and in the 
 same river bottom. It was composed principally of 
 families from York county, Pennsylvania orderly, 
 respectable people, and the men good soldiers. But 
 they were unaccustomed to Indian warfare, and the 
 consequence was, that of some ten or twelve men, all 
 were killed but two or three. During this period, Peter 
 Duree, the elder, the principal man of the connexion, 
 determined to settle a fort between Estill's station and 
 the mouth of Muddy Creek, directly on the trace be 
 tween the Cherokee and Shawanese towns. Having 
 erected a cabin, his son-in-law, John Bullock and his 
 family, and his son, Peter Duree, his wife and two 
 children, removed to it, taking a pair of hand mill 
 stones with them. They remained for two or three 
 days shut up in their cabin, but their corn meal being 
 exhausted, they were compelled to venture out to cut 
 a hollow tree in order to adjust their hand mill. They 
 attacked by Indians Bullock, after running a 
 6 (61) 
 
62 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 short distance, fell. Duree reached the cabin, and 
 threw himself upon the bed. Mrs. Bullock ran to the 
 door to ascertain the fate of her husband received a 
 shot in the breast, and fell across the door sill. Mrs. 
 Duree, not knowing whether her husband had been 
 shot or had fainted, caught her by the feet, pulled her 
 into the house and barred the door. She grasped a 
 rifle, and told her husband she would help him to fight. 
 He replied that he had been wounded and was dying. 
 She then presented the gun through several port-holes 
 in quick succession then calmly closed his eyes in 
 death. After waiting several hours, and seeing no 
 thing more of the Indians, she sallied out to make her 
 way to the White Oak Spring, with her infant in her 
 arms, and a son three or four years old following. 
 Afraid to pursue the trace, she entered the woods, 
 and after running till she was nearly exhausted, she 
 came at length to the trace. She then determined to 
 to follow it at all hazards, and having advanced a few 
 miles further, she met the elder Mr. Duree with his 
 wife and youngest son, with their baggage, on their 
 way to the new station. The melancholy tidings in 
 duced them of course to return. They led their horses 
 into an adjoining canebrake, unloaded them, and 
 regained the White Oak Spring fort before daylight. 
 It is impossible at this day to make a just impres~ 
 sion of the sufferings of the pioneers about the period 
 spoken of. The White Oak Spring fort, in 1782, 
 with perhaps one hundred souls in it, was reduced ID 
 
MRS. DUREE. 63 
 
 August, to three fighting white men and I can say 
 with truth, (says Captain Nathaniel Hart, of Wood- 
 ford county, in a letter to Governor Morehead, of 
 Kentucky,) that for two or three weeks, my mother's 
 family never unclothed themselves to sleep, nor were 
 all of them, within the time, at their meals together, 
 nor was any household business attempted. Food was 
 prepared, and placed where those who chose could eat. 
 It was the period when Bryant's station was besieged, 
 and for many days before and after that gloomy event, 
 we were in constant expectation of being made pri 
 soners. We made application to Colonel Logan for a 
 guard, and obtained one, but not until the danger was 
 nearly over. Colonel Logan did every thing in his 
 power, as county lieutenant, to sustain the different 
 forts but it was net a very easy matter to order a 
 married man from a fort where his family was, to 
 defend some other when his own was in imminent 
 danger. 
 
 I went with my mother in January, 1783, to Logan's 
 station to prove my father's will. He had fallen in the 
 preceding July. Twenty armed men were of the party. 
 Twenty-three widows were in attendance upon the 
 court, to obtain letters of administration on the estate^ 
 of their husbands who had been killed during the past 
 year. My mother went to Colonel Logan's, who re 
 ceived and treated her like a sister. 
 
 The escape of Mrs. Duree may seem the result of 
 her good fortune ; but it is more probable that, by her 
 
64 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST, 
 
 stratagem of presenting the gun through several port 
 noles in quick succession, as above mentioned, she 
 frightened the foe away, and thus gained a fair field 
 to escape with her children. A heroine was Mrs. 
 Duree. 
 
MRS. ROWAN. 
 
 IN the following narrative, communicated by Jo he 
 Rowan, of Kentucky, to Dr. Drake, of Cincinnati, we 
 have an account of a display of cool courage by a 
 woman, in a degree rarely witnessed, even in the west. 
 
 In the latter part of April, 1784, my father with 
 his family, and five other families, set put from Louis 
 ville, in two flat-bottomed boats, for the Long Falls of 
 Green river. The intention was to descend the Ohio 
 river to the mouth of Green river, and ascend that 
 river to the place of destination. At that time there 
 were no settlements in Kentucky, within one hundred 
 miles of Long Falls of the Green river (afterwards called 
 Vienna.) The families were in one boat and their 
 cattle in the other. When we had descended the river 
 Ohio, about one hundred miles, acd were near the 
 middle of it, gliding along very securely, as we thought, 
 about ten o'clock at night, we heard a prodigious 
 yelling, by Indians, some two or three miles below us, 
 on the northern shore. We had floated but a little 
 5 6* (65) 
 
36 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 distance farther down the river, when we saw a num 
 ber of fires on that shore. The jelling still continued, 
 and we concluded that they had captured a boat which 
 had passed us about midday, arid were massacreing 
 their captives. Our two boats were lashed together, 
 and the best practical arrangements were made for de 
 fending them. The men were distributed by my fa 
 ther to the best advantage in case of an attack ; they 
 were seven in number, including himself. The boats 
 were neared to the Kentucky shore, with as little 
 noise from the oars as possible. We were afraid to 
 approach too near the Kentucky shore, lest there 
 might be Indians on that shore also. We had not 
 yet reached their uppermost fire, (their fires were ex 
 tended along the bank at intervals for half a mile or 
 more,) and we entertained a faint hope that we might 
 slip by un perceived. But they discovered us when 
 we had got about midway of their fires, and com 
 manded us to come to. We were silent, for my father 
 had given strict orders that no one should utter any 
 sound but that of the. rifle : and not that until the In 
 dians should come within powder burning distance. 
 They united in a most terrific yell, and rushed to their 
 canoes, and pursued us. We floated on in silence 
 not an oar was pulled. They approached us within 
 a hundred yards, with a seeming determination to 
 board us. Just at this moment my mother rose from 
 her seat, collected the axes, and placed one by the 
 side of each man, where he stood with his gun, touching 
 
MRS. ROWAN. 67 
 
 him on the kn-ee with the handle of the axe, as she 
 leaned it up by him against the side of the boat, 
 to let him know it was there, and retired to her 
 seat, retaining a hatchet for herself. The Indians 
 continued hovering on our rear, and yelling, for near 
 three miles, when, awed by the inference which they 
 drew from our silence, they relinquished farther pur 
 suit. None but those who have had a practical ac 
 quaintance with Indian warfare, can form a just idea 
 of the terror which this hideous yelling is calculated 
 to inspire. I was then about ten years old, and shall 
 never forget the sensations of that night ; nor can I 
 ever cease to admire the fortitude and composure dis 
 played by my mother on that trying occasion. We 
 were saved, I have no doubt, by the judicious system 
 of conduct and defence, which my father had pre 
 scribed to our little band. We were seven men and 
 three boys but nine guns in all. They were more 
 than a hundred. My mother, in speaking of it after 
 wards, in her calm way, said, " We had made a provi 
 dential escape, for which we ought to feel grateful." 
 
 That mother of the west should have a monument. 
 It would remind her descendants who are accustomed 
 to hearing females designated as the " weaker vessels," 
 that upon trying occasions, the strength of soul, which 
 is beyond that of sinew and muscle, has appeared in 
 woman, and may appear again. 
 
MISS HECKEWELDER. 
 
 THE following letter addressed to the editor of the 
 " American Pioneer," was written by the daughter of 
 the well-known missionary to the Indians, the Rev. 
 John Heckewelder. Miss Heckewelder was the first 
 white child born in Ohio. Her narrative of the toils 
 and sufferings among the Indians is highly interesting. 
 
 Bethlehem, Pa., February 24th, 1843. 
 J. S. WILLIAMS, ESQ. 
 
 Dear Sir Yours of the 31st ult., to Mr. Kummen, 
 post-master at this place, has been handed to me. I 
 have not been in the habit of making much use of my 
 pen for a number of years ; I will, however, at your 
 request, endeavor to give you a short account of the 
 first four years of my life, which were all I spent 
 amongst the Indians, having since lived in Bethlehem 
 nearly all the time. My acquaintance or knowledge 
 of them and their history, is chiefly from books, and 
 what I heard from my father and other missionaries. 
 
 I was born April 16th, 1781, in Salem, one of the 
 Moravian Indian towns, on the Muskingum river, state 
 (68) 
 
MISS HECKEWELDER. 69 
 
 of Ohio. Soon after my birth, times becoming very 
 troublesome, the settlements were often in danger fi om 
 war parties, and from an encampment of warriors near 
 Gnadenhutten ; and finally, in the beginning of Sep 
 tember of the same year, we were all made prisoners. 
 First, four of the missionaries were seized by a 
 party of Huron warriors, and declared prisoners of 
 war ; they were then led into the camp of the Dela- 
 wares, where the death-song was sung over them. Soon 
 after they had secured them, a number of warriors 
 marched off for Salem and Shoenbrun. About thirty 
 savages arrived at the former place in the dusk of the 
 evening, and broke open the mission house. Here they 
 took my mother and myself prisoners, and having led 
 her into the street and placed guards over her, they 
 plundered the house of every thing they could take 
 with them and destroyed what was left. Then going 
 to take my mother along with them, the savages were 
 prevailed upon through the intercession of the Indian 
 females, to let her remain at Salem till the next morn 
 ing the night being dark and rainy and almost im 
 possible for her to travel so far they at last con 
 sented on condition that she should be brought into 
 the camp the next morning, which was accordingly 
 done, and she was safely conducted by our Indians to 
 Gnadenhutten. 
 
 After experiencing the cruel treatment of the 
 savages for sometime, they were set at liberty again ; 
 but we were obliged to leave their flourishing settle- 
 
70 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 ments, and forced to march through a dreary wilder 
 ness to Upper Sandusky. We went by land through 
 (roshachguenk to the Walholding, and then partly by 
 water and partly along the banks of the river, to San- 
 dusky creek.. All the way I was carried by an Indian 
 woman, carefully wrapped in a blanket, on her back. 
 Our journey was exceedingly tedious and dangerous ; 
 some of the canoes sunk, and those that were in them 
 lost all their provisions and every thing they had 
 saved. Those who went by land drove the cattle, a 
 pretty large herd. The savages now drove us along, 
 the missionaries with their families usually in the 
 midst, surrounded by their Indian converts. The 
 roads were exceedingly bad, leading through a con 
 tinuation of swamps. Having arrived at Upper San- 
 dusky, they built small huts of logs and bark to screen 
 them from the cold, having neither beds or blankets, 
 and being reduced to the greatest poverty and want ; 
 for the savages had by degrees stolen almost every 
 thing, both from the missionaries and Indians, on the 
 journey. We lived here extremely poor, oftentimes 
 very little or nothing to satisfy the cravings of hunger ; 
 and the poorest of the Indians were obliged to live 
 upon their dead cattle, which died for want of pasture. 
 After living in this dreary wilderness, in danger, 
 poverty, and distress of all sorts, a written order 
 arrived in March, 1782, sent by the governor to the 
 half king of the Hurons and to an English officer in 
 his company, to bring all the missionaries and theii 
 
MISS HECKEWELDER. 71 
 
 families to Detroit, but with a strict order not to 
 plunder nor abuse them in the least. The missionaries 
 were overwhelmed with grief at the idea of being 
 separated from their Indians ; but there being no alter 
 native, they were obliged to submit to this, one of the 
 heaviest of their trials. The poor Indians came weep 
 ing to bid them farewell, and accompanied them a 
 considerable way, some as far as Lower Sandusky. 
 Here we were obliged to spend several nights in the 
 open air, and suffered great cold besides other hard 
 ships. April 14th, we set out and crossed over a part 
 of the lakes Erie and Huron. We were lodged in the 
 barracks by order of the governor. Some weeks after, 
 we left the barracks with his consent and moved into 
 a house at a small distance from the town. 
 
 The Indian converts, gathering around their 
 teachers, they resolved with the consent of their 
 governor, to begin the building of a new settlement 
 upon a spot about thirty miles from Detroit, on the river 
 Huron, which they called New Gnadenhutten, and 
 which increased considerably from time to time. Here 
 I lived till the year 1785, when I set out with an aged 
 missionary couple to be educated in the school at Beth 
 lehem. We commenced our journey about the middle 
 May, and arrived at the latter place July 9th, after a 
 very tedious and perilous journey proceeding down 
 the river Huron into Lake St. Glair, thence to Detroit, 
 and crossing Lake Erie to Niagara and Oswego, thence 
 iown Oswego river to Lake Oneida, thence down the 
 
HEKOIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Waldbah to Fort Stanwix. We then arrived at a 
 carrying place at the Mohawk river, and proceeded to 
 Scheriectady ; went by land to Albany, and then by 
 water to New Windsor, and then again by land to 
 Bethlehem. 
 
 I fear my account has become rather too long and 
 tedious. I am much obliged to you, sir, for the Pioneer, 
 it is a most interesting work, and I wish I could but 
 gain some patronage for you ; but money is so scarce, 
 there is at present no prospect. 
 
MRS. TACKBTT, THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 THE following thrilling narrative is copied from 
 the Hesperian. 
 
 The sufferings endured by the first emigrants to a 
 new country, scarcely admit of description. These 
 have always been greatly multiplied by an encroach 
 ment upon the rights and possessions of the abori 
 gines. In reference to this country, where we have 
 long been considered unwelcome intruders, this has 
 been peculiarly the case. The settlement of no part 
 of the world has been more fruitful of incident than 
 that of our own. Although many pens have been 
 employed from time to time, in detailing our wars with 
 the Indians, still many interesting occurrences have 
 escaped the historian's notice. Some of these have 
 appeared in the form of newspaper paragraphs, while 
 others of equal importance have escaped this ephemeral 
 kind of repository. 
 
 The writer of this article has several times travelled 
 the road which lies on the banks of the Kenhawa. 
 1 (73) 
 
74 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEPT. 
 
 Although he found mountains whose tops pierced the 
 clouds, and a beautiful river whose margins smoked 
 with salt furnaces, to amuse him by day, his enter 
 tainment was not diminished by the approach of dark 
 ness. He has usually sought lodgings with some of 
 of the more ancient inhabitants, many of whom ac 
 commodate their guests with great hospitality. Like 
 the early adventurers to new settlements, they are 
 social, and delight in the recital of their dangerous 
 enterprises and hair-breadth escapes. Mr. M., at whose 
 comfortable mansion it was the writer's good fortune 
 to tarry one night, the last time he. passed through 
 Western Virginia, gave him the following narrative. 
 
 Just below the mouth of Cole river, on the farm 
 owned by the heirs of Tays, to insure their safety the 
 early settlers constructed a fortress. It was formed 
 exclusively of timber, without much labor, yet in such 
 a manner as to be deemed adequate to their defence 
 against Indian aggression. On the apprehension of 
 danger, the gate was closed, and every one prepared 
 for resistance. When the demand for food became 
 imperious, a few of the most skilful hunters would 
 leave this retreat before day, go a few miles distant, 
 return the succeeding night, loaded with game, un 
 noticed by the skulking savage. These measures of 
 safety were at first considered indispensable. A few 
 weeks of repose, however, seemed to render them in 
 convenient and unnecessary. Exemption from a morn 
 ing attack was thought a sufficient pledge of peace 
 
75 
 
 through the day. Familiarity with danger, as it always 
 does, relaxed their vigilance and diminished their pre 
 caution. Even the women and children, who at first 
 had been frightened by the falling of a tree, or the 
 hooting of an owl, lost their timidity. Indeed, the 
 strife seemed to be, who should be boldest, and the 
 Jeast apprehensive of peril. 
 
 On a beautiful morning, in the month of June, 1778, 
 as well as is recollected, the gate was thrown open. 
 Confinement had become painful, nay, insupportable. 
 It was considered rather as a voluntary punishment, 
 than a condition of security. Three of the fearless 
 inhabitants set out on a hunting expedition. Some 
 sought amusement in shooting at a mark ; the younger 
 engaged in playing at ball, while the women and 
 children were delighted spectators of the recreation. 
 Scarcely had an hour elapsed in these cheerful relaxa 
 tions, before some twenty or thirty Indians suddenly 
 ascended the river bank which had concealed their 
 approach, fired upon the whites, and instantly took 
 possession of the fort. Amidst the consternation 
 which ensued, the savages put to death every white 
 man on whom they could lay hands, reserving the 
 women and children for more trying occasions. 
 
 The wounded, who were unable to travel, without 
 regard to age or sex, were butchered in the most 
 shocking manner, of which description was James 
 Tackett. The importunities and tears of his interest 
 ing wife were wholly unavailing. She was left with 
 
76 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 two fine boys, the one seven years old, and the other 
 five. Apprehensive of pursuit by the whites, the In 
 dians, after the destruction of every article they could 
 not remove, betook themselves to flight. When a 
 prisoner became too feeble, as was the case with seve 
 ral small children, all entreaties to avert the stroke 
 of the tomahawk were fruitless. Although Mrs. 
 Tackett afforded to her children all the aid which their 
 situation and maternal tenderness could dictate, at 
 the distance of about five miles the youngest became 
 exhausted. Her extreme anxiety for his safety in 
 duced her to take him on her back; but alas! this 
 act of kindness was but the signal for his dispatch. 
 
 Two hours afterwards her other child began to fail. 
 He grasped his mother's hand, and said, " I must 
 keep up with you or be killed as poor James was." 
 The exertions which she made for her child were 
 beyond what she could sustain. For a time she in 
 spired him with the hope of relief which the approach 
 ing night would bring. Nature, however, became 
 overpowered, and a single blow, sunk him to rest. The 
 distracted parent would cheerfully have submitted to 
 the same fate, but even this barbarous relief was denied 
 her. About dark she lagged behind, regardless of 
 consequences, in charge of a warrior who could speak a 
 little English. He informed her that in the course of 
 an hour they would reach a large encampment, where 
 the prisoners must be divided ; that sometimes quarrels 
 ensued on such occasions, and the captives were put 
 
MRS. TACKETT, THE CAPTIVE. 77 
 
 to death. He asked her if she could write. An affirma 
 tive answer seemed to please him much. He said he 
 would take her to his country in the south, to be his 
 wife and to keep his accounts, as he was a trader. 
 This Indian was a Cherokee, and named Chickahoula ; 
 aged about thirty five, and of good appearance. 
 
 He soon took the first step necessary for carrying 
 his designs into execution, by making a diversion to 
 the left. After travelling about two miles, the dark 
 ness of the night and abruptness of the country for 
 bade their advancing father. A small fire was made 
 to defend them against the gnats and musqiutoes. Af 
 ter eating a little jerk, Chickahoula told his captive 
 to sleep ; that he would watch lest they should be 
 overtaken by pursuers. Early in the morning he 
 directed his course towards the head of the Great 
 Sandy and Kentucky rivers. Until he crossed Guy- 
 andotte, Chickahoula was constantly on the lookout, 
 as if he deemed himself exposed to the most imminent 
 danger. After having travelled seven days, the war 
 rior and the captive reached Powell's valley, in Ten 
 nessee. By this time they were out of provisions ; 
 and the Indian thinking it safer, while passing through 
 a settled district, to steal food than to depend upon 
 his gun, determined to avail himself of the first oppor 
 tunity of supplying his wants in this manner. It was 
 but a little while till one presented itself. Following 
 the meanderings of a small rivulet, he came suddenly 
 upon a spring-house, or dairy. This was several rodi 
 7* 
 
78 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 from the dwelling-house of the owner, and so situated 
 that it could be approached unseen from thence. Well 
 satisfied that it contained a rich store of milk, and 
 thinking it probable that other provision was there, 
 the warrior stationed his captive to watch, while he 
 went in to rifle the spring-house. Mrs. Tackett 
 readily and willingly undertook the duty of acting as 
 sentinel; but no sooner was the Indian fairly within 
 the spring-house, than she stole up the slope, and 
 then bounded towards the dwelling. This reached, 
 she instantly gave the alarm ; but the Indian escaped. 
 Mrs. Tackett tarried for some time with her new 
 acquaintances, and spent several months in the diffe 
 rent settlements of that section of the west. An 
 opportunity then offering, she returned to Greenbriar. 
 Her feelings on rejoining her friends and listening to 
 the accounts of the massacre at the station, and those 
 of her relatives on again beholding one whom they con 
 sidered, if not dead, in hopeless captivity, may be 
 imagined ; pen cannot describe them. 
 
MRS. MERRIL. 
 
 IN the summer of 1787, the house of John Merril, 
 in Nelson county, Kentucky, was attacked by Indians. 
 The defence was spirited and successful, Mrs. Merril 
 acted with the most determined heroism. 
 
 Merril was alarmed by the barking of a dog about 
 midnight, and in opening the door in order to ascertain 
 the cause of the disturbance, he received the fire of 
 six or seven Indians, by which his arm and thigh were 
 both broken. He sank upon the floor and called upon 
 his wife to shut the door. This had scarcely been done 
 when it was violently assailed by the tomahawks of 
 the enemy, and a large breach soon effected. Mrs. 
 Merril, however, being a perfect Amazon, both in 
 strength and courage, guarded it with an axe, and suc 
 cessively killed or badly wounded four of the enemy as 
 they attempted to force their way into the cabin. The 
 Indians then ascended the roof and attempted to enter 
 by way of the chimney, but here, again, they were met 
 by the same determined enemy. Mrs. Merril seized 
 the only feather-bed which the cabin afforded, and 
 
 (79) 
 
80 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 hastily ripping it open, poured its contents upon the 
 fire. A furious blaze and stifling smoke ascended the 
 chimney, and quickly brought down two of the enemy, 
 who lay for a few moments at the mercy of the lady. 
 Seizing the axe, she despatched them, and was instantly 
 afterwards summoned to the door, where the only re 
 maining savage now appeared, endeavoring to effect 
 an entrance, while Mrs. Merril was engaged at the 
 chimney. He soon received a gash in the cheek, which 
 compelled him with a loud yell to relinquish his pur 
 pose, and return hastily to Chillicothe, where, from 
 the report of a prisoner, he gave an exaggerated ac 
 count of the fierceness, strength, and courage of tha 
 "long knife squ&w !" 
 
THE ESCAPE OF MES. COLEMANV 
 
 THE scenery of the Ohio, between Columbia and 
 Cincinnati, was truly romantic in the pioneer days of 
 1792. Scarcely a tree had been cut on either side, 
 between the mouth of Crawfish and that of Deer creek, 
 a distance of more than four miles. The sand-bar, 
 now extending from its left bank, opposite to Sports 
 man's Hall, was then a small island, between which 
 and the Kentucky shore was a narrow channel, with 
 sufficient depth of water for the passage of boats. The 
 upper and lower points of this island were bare, but 
 its centre, embracing about four acres, was covered 
 with small cotton w r ood, and surrounded by willows 
 extending along its sides almost down to the water's 
 edge. The right bank of the river crowned with its 
 lofty hills, now gradually ascending, and now rising 
 abruptly to their summits, and forming a vast amphi 
 theatre, was from Columbia, extending down about 
 two miles, very steep, and covered with trees quite 
 down to the beach. From thence, nearly opposite the 
 foot of the island, its ascent became more gradual- 
 6 (81) 
 
82 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 and for two miles farther down, bordering the tall 
 trees with which it was covered, was a thick growth 
 of willows, through which in many places it was diffi 
 cult to penetrate. Below this, the beach was wide 
 and stony, with only here and there a small tuft of 
 willows, while the wood on the side and on the top of 
 the bank was more open. Not far from this bank and 
 near the line of the present turnpike, was a narrow 
 road leading from Columbia to Cincinnati, just wide 
 enough for the passage of a wagon, which, winding 
 round the point of the hill above Deer creek, descended 
 northwardly about four hundred feet, and crossing 
 that creek, and in a southerly direction ascending 
 gradually its western bank, led along the ground, now 
 Symmes street, directly towards Fort Washington, 
 and diverging at the intersection of Lawrence street 
 to the right and left of the fort, entered the town. The 
 river between Columbia and Cincinnati is thus minutely 
 described to enable the reader to gain a clear idea of 
 the following adventure. 
 
 On the afternoon of the 7th of July, 1792, a Mr. 
 Oliver M. Spencer and a few friends, embarked in a 
 canoe, at Fort Washington, to go to Columbia. It 
 was a small craft, and hardly fit to accommodate the 
 oarty, which thus consisted of a Mr. Jacob Light, a 
 Mr. Clayton, Mrs. Coleman, young Spencer, a boy 
 of thirteen, and one of the garrison soldiers, which 
 last individual being much intoxicated, lurched from 
 one side of the canoe to the other, and finally by the 
 
THE ESCAPE OF MRS. COLEMAN. 83 
 
 they had got up a short distance above Deer 
 creek, tumbled out, nearly upsetting the whole party. 
 He then reached the shore, the water not being very 
 deep at the spot. Spencer did not know how to swim, 
 and had become afraid to continue in the canoe, and 
 was therefore at his own request put on shore, where 
 they left the soldier, and the party in the boat and 
 Spencer on shore, proceeded side by side. Light pro 
 pelled the boat forward with a pole, while Clayton sat 
 at the stern with a paddle, which he sometimes used 
 as an oar, and sometimes as a rudder, and Mrs. Cole- 
 man, a woman of fifty years, sat in the middle of the 
 boat. One mile above Deer creek, a party of market 
 people, with a woman and child, on board a canoe, 
 passed them on their way to Cincinnati. Light and 
 the others had rounded a small point in the cove less 
 than a mile below the foot of the island, and proceeded 
 a few hundred yards along the clo&e willows here bor 
 dering the beach, at about two rods distance from the 
 Water, when Clayton looking back, discovered the 
 drunken man staggering along the shore, and re 
 marked that he would be " bait for Indians." Hardly 
 nad he passed the remark, when two rifle-shots from 
 the rear of the willow struck Light and his comrade, 
 causing the latter to fall towards the shore, and wound 
 ing the other by the ball glancing from the oar. The 
 two Indians who had fired instantly rushed from their 
 concealment, to scalp the dead, and impede the escape 
 of the living. Clayton w,as scalped, and Spencer, in 
 
84 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 spite of all his efforts to get off, was made prisoner, 
 but Light swam out of reach of his pursuers, and Mrs. 
 Coleman, who had also jumped out, preferring to be 
 drowned to falling into the hands of the Indians, ana 
 floated some distance off. The Indians would probably 
 have reloaded and fired, but the report of their riflea 
 brought persons to the opposite shore, which forced 
 them to decamp with their young prisoner, saying, 
 " squaw must drown." Light first made for the Ken 
 tucky shore, but finding he .could not reach it in his 
 crippled state, directed his way out on the Ohio side. 
 Mrs. Coleman followed, using her hands as paddles, 
 and they both got to shore some distance below the 
 scene of these events. Light had barely got out when 
 he fell, but after vomiting blood at length came to. 
 
 Mrs. 'Coleman floated nearly a mile, and when she 
 reached the shore, walked down the path to Cincin 
 nati, crossed Deer creek at its mouth, holding on to 
 the willows which overhung its banks the water there 
 in those days flowing in a narrow current that might 
 almost be cleared by a spring from one bank to the 
 other. She went direct to Captain Thorp, at the ar 
 tificer's yard, with whose lady she was acquainted, 
 and from whom she obtained a change of clothes, and 
 rested a day or two to recover from her fatigue. Mrs. 
 Coleman died a few years since, at a very advanced 
 age, at Versailles, Ripley county, Indiana. 
 
THE SISTERS FLEMING. 
 
 IN February, 1790, a Mr. John May, surveyor of 
 the Kentucky lands, determined to proceed from Vir 
 ginia to his field of labor by descending the Great 
 Kenawha and the Ohio. He was accompanied by a 
 young clerk, named Charles Johnson ; Mr. Jacob 
 Skyles, who had a lot of dry goods intended for Lex 
 ington ; a hardy borderer named Flinn ; and two 
 sisters, named Fleming, who had been accustomed to 
 the dangers of a frontier life. 
 
 During their short stay at Point Pleasant, they 
 learned that roving bands of Indians were constantly 
 hovering upon either bank of the Ohio, and were in 
 the habit of decoying boats ashore under various pre 
 tences, and murdering or taking captives, all who were 
 on board, so that, upon leaving Point Pleasant, they 
 determined that no considerations should induce them 
 to approach either shore, but steeling their hearts 
 against every entreaty, that they would resolutely keep 
 the middle of the current, and leave distressed indivi 
 duals to shift for themselves. How firmly this reso- 
 8 (85) 
 
86 HEEOIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 lution was maintained the sequel will show. The spring 
 freshet was in its height at the time of their embarka 
 tion, and their boat was wafted rapidly down the stream. 
 There was no occasion to use the side oars, and it was 
 only necessary for one individual at a time to watch 
 throughout the night, at the steering oar, in order to 
 keep the boat in the current. So long as this could 
 be done, they entertained no dread of any number of 
 Indians on either shore, as boarding had hitherto 
 formed no part of their plans, and was supposed to be 
 impracticable, so long as arms were on board of the 
 boat. 
 
 On the morning of the 20th of March, when near 
 the junction of the Scioto, they were awakened at day 
 light by Flinn, whose turn it was to watch, and in 
 formed that danger was at hand. All sprung to their 
 feet, and hastened upon deck without removing their 
 night caps or completing their dress. The cause of 
 Flinn's alarm was quickly evident. Far down the 
 river a smoke was seen, ascending in thick wreaths 
 above the trees, and floating in thinner masses over 
 the bed of the river. All at once perceived that it 
 could only proceed from a large fire and who was 
 there to kindle a fire in the wilderness which surrounded 
 them ? No one doubted that Indians were in front, 
 and the only question to be decided was, upon which 
 shore they lay, for the winding of the river, and their 
 distance from the smoke, rendered it impossible at first 
 to ascertain this point. As the boat drifted on, how 
 
THE SISTERS FLEMING. 87 
 
 ever, it became evident that the fire was upon the Ohio 
 shore, and it was determined to put over to the oppo 
 site side of the river. Before this could be done, how 
 ever, two white men ran down upon the beach, and 
 clasping their hands in the most earnest manner, im 
 plored the crew to take them on board. They declared 
 that they had been taken by a party of Indians in 
 Kennedy's bottom a few days before had been con 
 ducted across the Ohio, and had just effected their es 
 cape. They added, that the enemy was in close pur 
 suit of them, and that their death was certain, unless 
 admitted on board. Resolute in their purpose, on no 
 account to leave the middle of the stream, and strongly 
 suspecting the suppliants of treachery, the party paid 
 no attention to their entreaties, but steadily pursued 
 their course down the river, and were soon considerably 
 ahead of them. The two white men ran down the bank 
 in a line parallel with the course of the boat, and their 
 entreaties were changed into the most piercing cries 
 and lamentations upon perceiving the obstinacy with 
 which their request was disregarded. The obduracy 
 of the crew soon began to relax. * Flinn and the two 
 females, accustomed from their youth to undervalue 
 danger from the Indians, earnestly insisted upon going 
 ashore, and relieving the white men, and even the in 
 credulity of May began to yield to the persevering 
 importunity of the suppliants. 
 
 A parley took place. May called them from the 
 leek of the boat wliere he stood in his night-cap and 
 
88 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 drawers, and demanded the cause of the large fire 
 and smoke of which had caused so much alarm. The 
 white men positively denied that there was any fire 
 near them. The falsehood was so palpable, that May's 
 former suspicion returned with additional force, and 
 he positively insisted upon continuing their course 
 without paying the slightest attention to the request 
 of the men. This resolution was firmly seconded by 
 Johnston and Skyles, and as vehemently opposed by 
 Flinn and Miss Flemings, for, the females were allowed 
 an equal vote with the males on board of the boat. 
 Flinn urged that the men gave every evidence of real 
 distress which could be required, and recounted too 
 many particular circumstances attending their capture 
 and escape, to give color to the suspicion that their 
 story was invented for the occasion, and added, that 
 it would be a burning shame to them and theirs for 
 ever, if they should permit two countrymen to fall a 
 secrifice to the savages when so slight a risk on their 
 part would suffice to relieve them. He acknowledged 
 that they had lied in relation to the fire, but declared 
 himself satisfied that it was only because they were fear 
 ful of acknowledging the truth, least the crew should 
 suspect that Indians were concealed in the vicinity. 
 The controversy became warm, and during its progress, 
 the boat drifted so far below the, men, that they 
 appeared to relinquish their pursuit in despair. 
 
 Flinn then made a second proposal, which, according 
 to his method of reasoning, could be carried into effect 
 
THE SISTERS FLEMING. 89 
 
 without the slightest risk to any one but himself. They 
 were now more than a mile below the pursuers. He 
 proposed th&t May should only touch the hostile shore 
 long enough to permit him to jump out. That it was 
 impossible for Indians, (even admitting that they were 
 at hand,) to arrive in time to arrest the boat, and even 
 should any appear, they could immediately put off from 
 shore and abandon him to his fate. That he was con 
 fident of being able to outrun the red devils, if they 
 saw him first, and was equally confident of being able 
 to see them as soon as they could see him. May re 
 monstrated upon so unnecessary an exposure but 
 Flinn was inflexible, and in an evil hour, the boat was 
 directed to the shore. They quickly discovered, what 
 ought to have been known before, that they could not 
 float as swiftly after leaving the current as while borne 
 along by it, and they were nearly double the time in 
 making the shore, that they had calculated upon. When 
 within reach Flinn leaped fearlessly upon the hostile 
 bank, and the boat grated upon the sand. At that 
 moment, five or six savages, ran up out of breath, from 
 the adjoining wood, and seizing Flinn, began to fire 
 upon the boat's crew. Johnston and Skyles sprang to 
 their arms, in order to return the fire, while May, 
 seizing an oar attempted to regain the current. Fresh 
 Indians arrived, however, in such rapid succession, that 
 the beach was quickly crowded by them, and May called 
 out to his companions to cease firing and come to the 
 oars* This was done, but it was too late. 
 
 8* 
 
,90 HEROIC WOMEN 0? TUE WEST. 
 
 The river, as we have already observed, was very 
 high, and their clumsy and unwieldy boat, had be 
 come entangled in the boughs of the trees which hung 
 over the water, so that after the most desperate efforts 
 to get her off, they were compelled to relinquish the 
 attempt in despair. During the whole of this time 
 the Indians were pouring a heavy fire into the boat, at 
 a distance not exceeding ten paces. Their horses, of 
 which they had a great number on board, had broken 
 their halters, and mad with terror were plunging so 
 furiously as to expose them to danger scarcely less 
 dreadful than that which menaced them from shore. 
 In addition to this, none of them had, ever beheld a 
 hostile Indian before, (with the exception of May,) and 
 the furious gestures and appalling yells of the enemy, 
 struck a terror in their hearts which had almost de 
 prived them of their faculties. Seeing it impossible 
 to extricate themselves, they all lay down upon their 
 faces, in such parts of the boat, as would best protect 
 them from the horses, and awaited in passive helpless 
 ness, the approach of the conquerors. The enemy, 
 however, still declined boarding, and contented them- 
 selves with pouring in an incessant fire, by which all 
 the horses were killed, and which at length began to 
 grow fatal to the crew. One of the females received 
 a ball in her mouth, which had passed immediately 
 over Johnston's head, and almost immediately expired. 
 Skyles, immediately afterwards, was severely wounded 
 in both shoulders, the ball striking the right shoulder 
 
THE SISTERS FLEMING. 91 
 
 blade, and ranging transversely along his back. The 
 fire seemed to grow hotter every moment, when, at 
 length May arose waved his night-cap above his head 
 as a signal of surrender. He instantly received a ball 
 in the middle of the forehead and fell perfectly dead 
 by the side of Johnston, covering him with blood. 
 
 Now, at last, the enemy ventured to board.- Throwing 
 themselves into the water, with their tomahawks in 
 their hands, a dozen or twenty swam to the boat, and 
 began to climb the sides. Johnston stood ready to do 
 the honors of the boat, and presenting his hand to each 
 Indian in succession, he helped them over the side to 
 the number of twenty. Nothing could appear more 
 cordial than the meeting. Each Indian shook him by 
 the hand, with the usual salutation of " How de do?" 
 in passable English, whilst Johnston encountered every 
 visiter with an affectionate squeeze, and a forced smile, 
 in which terror struggled with civility. The Indians 
 then passed on to Skyles and the surviving Miss Flem 
 ing, where the demonstrations of mutual joy were not 
 quite so lively. Skyles was writhing under a painful 
 wound, and the girl was sitting by the dead body of 
 her sister. Having shaken hands with all their cap- 
 tivee, the Indians proceeded to scalp the dead, which 
 was done with great coolness, and the reeking scalps 
 were stretched and prepared for the usual process of 
 drying, immediately before the eyes of the survivors. 
 The boat was then drawn ashore, and its contents ex> 
 aminod with great greediness. Poor, Skyles, in addi- 
 
92 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 tion to the pain of his wounds, was compelled to witness 
 the total destruction of his property, by the hands of 
 these greedy spoilers, who tossed his silks, cambric, 
 and broadcloth into the dirt, with the most reckless 
 indifference. At length they stumbled upon a keg of 
 whiskey. The prize was eagerly seized, and every 
 thing else abandoned. The Indian who had found it, 
 carried it ashore and was followed by the rest with 
 tumultuous delight. A large fire nearly fifty feet long 
 was kindled, and victors and vanquished indiscrimi 
 nately huddled around it, 
 
 The two white men who had decoyed them ashore, 
 and whose names were Divine and Thomas, now ap 
 peared and took their seats beside the captives. Sen 
 sible ., of the reproach to which they had exposed them 
 selves, they hastened to offer an excuse for their con 
 duct. They declared that they really had been taken 
 in Kennedy's bottom a few days before, and that the 
 Indians had compelled them, by threats of instant 
 death in case of refusal, to act as they had done. 
 They concluded by some common place expressions of 
 regret for the calamity which they had occasioned, 
 and declared that their own misery was aggravated 
 at beholding that of their countrymen ! In short, 
 words were cheap with them, and they showered them 
 out in profusion. But Johnston and Skyles's sufferings 
 had been and still were too severe, to permit their re 
 sentment to be appeased by such light atonement, 
 Their suspicions of the existence of wilful and malig 
 
THE SISTERS FLEMING. 93 
 
 nant treachery on the part of the white men, at least 
 one of them, were confirmed by the report of a negro, 
 who quickly made his appearance, and who, as it ap 
 peared, had been taken in Kentucky a few days be* 
 fore. He declared that Thomas had been extremely 
 averse to having any share in the treachery, but had 
 been overruled by Divine, who alone had planned, and 
 was most active in the execution of the project, hav 
 ing received a promise from the Indians, that, in case 
 of success, his own liberty should be restored to him. 
 
 In a few minutes, six squaws, most of them very 
 old, together with two white children, a girl and a 
 boy, came down to the fire, and seated themselves. 
 T v ie children had lately been taken from Kentucky. 
 Skyles's wound now became excessively painful, and 
 Flinn, who, in the course of his adventurous life, had 
 picked up some knowledge of surgery, was permitted 
 to examine it. He soon found it necessary to make 
 an incision, which was done very neatly with a razor. 
 An old squaw then washed the wound, and having 
 caught the bloody water in a tin cup, presented it to 
 Skyles, and requested him to drink it, assuring him 
 that it would greatly hasten the cure. He thought it 
 most prudent to comply. 
 
 During the whole of this time, the Indians remained 
 silently smoking or lounging around the fire. No sen 
 tinels were posted in order to prevent a surprise, but 
 each man's gun stood immediately behind him, with 
 the breech resting upon the ground, and the barrel 
 
94 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 supported against a small pole, placed horizontally 
 upon two forks. Upon the slightest alarm, every man 
 could have laid his hand upon his own gun. Their 
 captors were composed of small detachments from 
 several tribes. Much the greater portion belonged to 
 the Shawanese, but there were several Delawares, 
 Wyandottes, and a few wandering Cherokees. 
 
 After smoking, they proceeded to the division of 
 of their prisoners. Flinn was given to a Shawanese 
 warrior Skyles to an old, crabbed, ferocious Indian 
 of the same tribe, whose temper was sufficiently ex 
 pressed in his countenance, while Johnston was assigned 
 to a young Shawanese chief, whom he represents as 
 possessed of a disposition which would have done him 
 honor in any age or in any nation. The surviving 
 Miss Fleming was given to the Cherokees, while the 
 Wyandottes and the Delawares were allowed no share 
 in the distribution. 
 
 The next day, the Indians attacked the boats, and 
 obtained a large amount of booty. Another keg of 
 whiskey was found. A grand drinking frolic was then 
 held, during which the prisoners were bound, to guard 
 against their escape. After this drunken revel, the 
 march commenced. The party having Flinn in charge, 
 left the rest of the band, and took a different route. 
 Leaving the male prisoners to their fate, we will merely 
 narrate what befell Miss Fleming. 
 
 Johnston had been much surprised at the levity of 
 her conduct, when first taken. Instead of appearing 
 
THE SISTEKS FLEMING. 95 
 
 dejected at the dreadful death of her sister, and the 
 still more terrible fate of her friends, she never ap 
 peared more lively or better reconciled to her fate than 
 while her captors lingered upon the banks of the Ohio, 
 Upon the breaking up of the party, the Cherokees 
 conducted their prisoner towards the Miami villages, 
 and Johnston saw nothing more of her until after his 
 own liberation. While he remained at the house of 
 Mr. Duchouquet, the small party of Cherokees to whom 
 she belonged suddenly made their appearance in the 
 village in a condition so tattered and dilapidated, as to 
 satisfy every one that all their booty had been wasted 
 with their usual improvidence. Miss Fleming's appear 
 ance, particularly k had been entirely changed. All the 
 levity which had astonished Johnston so much on the 
 banks of the Ohio, was completely gone. Her dress 
 was tattered, her cheeks sunken, her eyes discolored 
 by weeping, and her whole manner expressive of the 
 most heartfelt wretchedness. Johnston addressed her 
 with kindness, and inquired the cause of so great a 
 change, but she only replied by wringing her hands 
 and bursting into tears. Her master quickly summoned 
 her away, and on the morning of her arrival she was 
 compelled to leave the village, and accompany them to 
 Lower Sandusky. Within a few days, Johnston, in 
 company with his friend Duchouquet, followed them to 
 that place, partly upon business, and partly with the 
 hope of effecting her liberation. He found the town 
 thronged with Indians of various tribes, and there, fof 
 
96 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 the first time, he learned that his friend Skyles had 
 effected his escape. Upon inquiring for the Cherokees 
 he learned that they were encamped with their prisoner 
 within a quarter of a mile of the town, holding them 
 selves aloof from the rest, and evincing the most jealous 
 watchfulness over their prisoner. Johnston applied 
 to the traders of Sandusky for their good offices, and, 
 as usual, the request was promptly complied with. 
 They went out in a body to the Cherokee camp, ac 
 companied by a white man named Whittaker, who had 
 been taken from Virginia when a child, and had be 
 come completely naturalized among the Indians. This 
 Whittaker was personally known to Miss Fleming, 
 having often visited Pittsburg where her father kept a 
 small tavern, much frequented by Indians and traders. 
 As soon as she beheld him, therefore, she ran up to 
 the spot where he stood, and bursting into tears, im 
 plored him to save her from the cruel fate which she 
 had no doubt awaited her. He engaged very zealously 
 in her service, and finding that all the offers of the 
 traders were rejected with determined obstinacy, he 
 returned to Detroit, and solicited the intercession of 
 an old chief known among the whites by the name of 
 " Old King Crane," assuring him (a lie which we can 
 scarcely blame) that the woman was his sister. King 
 Crane listened with gravity to the appeal of Whittaker, 
 acknowledged the propriety of interfering in the case 
 of so near a relative, and very calmly walked out to 
 the Cherokee camp, in order to try the efficacy of hia 
 
THE SISTERS FLEMING. 97 
 
 own eloquence in behalf of the white squaw. He found 
 her master, however, perfectly inexorable. The argu 
 ment gradually waxed warm, till at length the Chero- 
 kees became enraged, and told the old man that it waa 
 a disgrace to a chief like him, to put himself upon a 
 level with " white people," and that they looked upon 
 him as no better than " dirt." 
 
 At this insupportable insult, King Crane became 
 exasperated in turn, and a very edifying scene ensued, 
 in which each bespattered the other with a profusion 
 of abuse for several minutes, until the Old King recol 
 lected himself sufficently, to draw off for the present, 
 and concert measures for obtaining redress. He re 
 turned to the village in a towering passion, and an 
 nounced his determination to collect his young men and 
 rescue the white squaw by force, and if the Cherokees 
 dared to resist, he swore that he would take their 
 scalps upon the spot. Whittaker applauded his doughty 
 resolution, but warned him of the neceesity of dis 
 patch, as the Cherokees, alarmed at the idea of losing 
 their prisoner, might be tempted to put her to death 
 without further delay. This advice was acknowledged 
 to be of weight, and before daylight on the following 
 morning, King Crane assembled his young men, and 
 advanced cautiously upon the Cherokee encampment. 
 He found all but the miserable prisoner buried in sleep. 
 She had been striped naked, her body painted black, 
 and in this condition, had been bound to a stake, around 
 which hickory poles had already been collected, and 
 7 
 
98 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 every other disposition made for burning her alive at 
 day-light. She was moaning in a low tone as her de 
 liverers approached, and was so much exhausted as 
 not to be aware of their approach, until King Crane 
 had actually cut the cords which bound her, with his 
 knife. 
 
 He then ordered his young men to assist her in putting 
 on her clothes, which they obeyed with the most 
 stoical indifference. As soon as her toilet had been 
 completed, the King awakened her masters, and in 
 formed them that the squaw was his ! that if they sub 
 mitted quietly it was well ! if not, his young men and 
 himself were ready for them. The Cherokees, as may 
 readily be imagined, protested loudly against such 
 unrighteous proceedings, but what could words avail 
 against tomahawks and superior numbers? They 
 then expressed their willingness to resign the squaw 
 but hoped that King Crane would not be such a " beast" 
 as to refuse them the ransom which he had offered 
 them on the preceding day ! The king replied coolly, 
 that the squaw was now in his own hands and would 
 serve them right if he refused to pay a single broach 
 but he disdained to receive any thing at their hands, 
 without paying an equivalent ! and would give them 
 six hundred broaches. He then returned to Lower 
 Sandusky, accompanied by the liberated prisoner. 
 She was then painted as a squaw by T^hittaker, and 
 sent off, under the care of two trusty Indians to Pitts- 
 
THE SISTERS FLEMING. 99 
 
 burg, where she arrived in safety in the course of the 
 following week. 
 
 Miss Fleming was much exhausted by her sufferings 
 in the trying scenes through which she had passed ; 
 but she lived at Pittsburg many years afterwards. 
 
MRS. PAKKER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 TUB fcllomng narrative, told by an old pioneer, 
 called Tim Watkins, to a correspondent of the " Cin 
 cinnati Miscellany," contains some noble instances of 
 female extermination, and is worthy of a place by the 
 side of tLt best of those stories we have related. On 
 the Illinois river, near two hundred miles from its 
 junction with the Mississippi, there lived an old pio 
 neer, known in those days as " Old Parker, the squat 
 ter." His family consisted of a wife and three child 
 ren, the oldest a boy of nineteen, a girl of seventeen, 
 and the youngest a boy of fourteen. At the time of 
 which we write, Parker and his oldest boy had gone 
 in company with thvee Indians on a hunt, expecting 
 to be absent some live or six days. The third day 
 after their departure, one of the Indians returned to 
 Parker's house, came in and sat himself down by the 
 fire, lit his pipe, and commenced smoking in silence. 
 Mrs. Parker thought nothing of this, as it was no un 
 common thing for one or sometimes more of a party 
 of Indians to return abruptly from a hunt, at some 
 (100) 
 
MRS. PARKER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 sign they might consider ominous of bad luck, and in 
 such instances were not very communicative. But at 
 last the Indian broke silence with " ugh ! old Parker 
 die." This exclamation immediately drew Mrs. Par 
 ker's attention, who directly inquired of the Indian, 
 "What's the matter with Parker?" 
 
 The Indian responded, u Parker sick, tree fell on 
 him, you go he die." 
 
 Mrs. Parker then asked the Indian if Parker sent 
 for her, and where he was. 
 
 The replies of the Indian somewhat aroused her 
 suspicions. She however came to the conclusion to 
 send her son with the Indian to see what was the matter. 
 The boy and Indian started. That night passed, and 
 the next day too, and neither the boy nor Indian re 
 turned. This confirmed Mrs. Parker in her opinion 
 that there was foul play on the part of the Indians. 
 So she and her daughter went to work and barricaded 
 the doors and windows in the best way they could. 
 The youngest boy's rifle was the only one left, he not 
 having taken it with him when he went out after his 
 father. The old lady took the rifle, the daughter the 
 axe, and thus armed they determined to watch through 
 the night, and defend themselves if any Indians 
 should appear. 
 
 They had not long to wait after night fall, for soon 
 after that some one commenced knocking at the door, 
 crying out, "Mother, mother!" but Mrs. Parker 
 thought the voice was not exactly like that of her son, 
 
102 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 and in order to ascertain the fact, she said, " Jake, 
 where are the Indians ?" The reply, which was " um 
 gone," satisfied her on that point. She then said, as 
 if speaking to her son, " Put your ear to the latch- 
 hole of the door." The head was placed at the latch- 
 hole, and the old lady fired her rifle throught it and 
 killed the Indian. She stepped back from the door 
 instantly, and it was well she did so, for quicker than 
 I have penned the last two words, two rifle-bullets 
 came crashing through the door. 
 
 The old lady then said to her daughter, " Thank 
 God, there is but two, I must have killed the one at 
 the door they must be the three who went on the 
 hunt with your father. If we can only kill or cripple 
 another one of them, we will be safe ; now we must 
 both be still after they fire again, and they will then 
 break the door down, and I may be able to shoot 
 another one ; but if I miss them when getting in you 
 must use the axe." 
 
 The daughter, equally courageous with her mother, 
 assured her she would. Soon after this conversation 
 two more rifle bullets came crashing through the win 
 dow. A death-like stillness ensued for about five mi 
 nutes, when two more Balls in quick succession were 
 fired through the door, then followed a tremendous 
 punching with a log, the door gave way, and with a 
 fiendish yell, an Indian was about to spring in when 
 the unerring rifle fired by the gallant old lady laid 
 his lifeless bodv across the threshold of the door. The 
 
MRS. PARKER AND DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 remaining, or more properly the surviving, Indian 
 fired at random and ran doing no injury. "Now" 
 said the old heroine to her undaunted daughter " we 
 must leave." Accordingly with the rille and the axe, 
 they went to the river, took the canoe, and without a 
 mouthful of provision, except one wild duck and two 
 black birds which the mother shot, and which were eaten 
 raw, did these two courageous hearts in six days arrive 
 among the old French settlers at St. Louis. A party 
 of about a dozen men crossed over Illinois and after 
 an unsuccessful search returned without finding either 
 Parker or his boys. They were never found. There 
 are yet some of the old settlers in the neighborhood 
 of Peoria who still point out the spot where " old 
 Parker, the squatter" lived. 
 
EXPERIENCE BOZAETH. 
 
 THE courage and prowess of a -woman in defence of 
 herself and family were never more gloriously dis 
 played than by Mrs. Experience Bozarth. This lady 
 lived upon Dunkard's creek, in Westmoreland county, 
 Pennsylvania. About the middle of March, 1779, 
 when the neighboring country was infested with war 
 like Indians, two or three families gathered at Mrs. 
 Bozarth's house for safety. Soon afterwards, some 
 of the children came running in from play, appearing 
 very much frightened, and exclaiming that ugly red 
 men were near the house. There were but two men 
 in the house. One of them stepped to the door, where 
 he received a ball in tie side of hia breast, which 
 caused him to fall back upon the floor. The Indian 
 who had shot him immediately jumped over the body 
 and engaged in a struggle with the other white man. 
 The savage was overpowered, and his 
 (104) 
 
EXPERIENCE BOZARTH. 105 
 
 tossing him on the bed, called for a knife to dispatch 
 him. Mrs. Bozarth had retained her presence of 
 mind, and was now prepared for the most desperate 
 defence. Not being able to find a knife, she seized 
 an axe, and with one blow clove in the Indian's skull. 
 At that instant a second Indian entered the door, and 
 shot the white man dead, who was holding the Indian 
 on the bed. Mrs. Bozarth, with unflinching boldness, 
 turned to this new foe, and gave him several cuts with 
 the axe, one of which made his entrails appear. He 
 called out murder, whereupon, other Indians who had 
 been killing some children out of doors, came rushing 
 to his relief. The head of one of these was cut in 
 twain by the axe of Mrs. Bozarth. Another Indian 
 snatched him by the feet and pulled him out of doors, 
 when Mrs. Bozarth, with the assistance of the man 
 who was first shot in the door, and who had by this 
 time recovered some degree of self-command, shut the 
 door and fastened it. 
 
 The Indians, rendered furious by the desperate re 
 sistance they had met, now besieged the house, and 
 for several days, they employed all their arts to enter 
 and slay the weak garrison. But all their efforts were 
 futile. Mrs. Bozarth and her wounded companion, 
 employed themselves so vigorously and vigilantly, 
 tfrat the enemy were completely baffled. During the 
 siege, the dead Indian and the dead white man re 
 mained in the house. 
 
 At length, a party of white men arrived, put tht 
 
106 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Indians to flight, and relieved Mrs. Bozarth from her 
 perilous situation. Many were the encomiums lavished 
 upon the heroic woman, who had made such a noble 
 defence of her home ; and, indeed, it may be ques 
 tioned whether any female ever displayed more courage 
 and prowess in combat against superior numbers. 
 
A HEKOINE WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 VAST is the catalogue of names, fame gives to the 
 world as great and good heroes and heroines. But, 
 we believe, the unrecorded great are still more nu 
 merous. Sometimes there is a want of a timely his 
 torian. Often, modest merit seeks concealment, and 
 so is forgotten, amid the trumpetings of noisy fools. 
 Again, as in the present instance, " a deed without 
 a name," is handed down to us, as an example, with 
 no claimant for admiration. 
 
 In 1786, an incident happened upon Green river, 
 Kentucky, which not only illustrates the dangers which 
 beset the pioneers of that period, but also the nobility 
 of woman. About twenty young persons, male and 
 female, of a fort, had united in a flax pulling, in one 
 of the most distant fields. In the course of the fore 
 noon two of their mothers made them a visit, and the 
 younger took along her child, about eighteen months 
 old. When the whole party were near the woods, one 
 of the young women climbed over the fence, was fired 
 upon by several Indians concealed in the bushes, who 
 
 (10T) 
 
108 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 at the same time raised the usual war-whoop. She 
 was wounded, but retreated, as did the whole party; 
 some running with her down the lane, which happened 
 to open near that point, and others across the field. 
 They were hotly pursued by the enemy, who con 
 tinued to yell and fire upon them. 
 
 The older of the two mothers who had gone out, 
 recollecting in her flight, that the younger, a small and 
 feeble woman was burdened with her child, turned 
 back in the face of the enemy, they firing and yelling 
 hideously, took the child from its almost exhausted 
 mother, and ran with it to the fort, a distance of three 
 hundred yards. During the chase she was twice shot 
 at with rifles, when the enemy were so near that the 
 powder burned her, and one arrow passed through her 
 sleeve, but she escaped uninjured. The young woman 
 who was wounded, almost reached the place of safety 
 when she sunk, and her pursuer, who had the hardi 
 hood to attempt to scalp her, was killed by a bullet from 
 the fort. 
 
MRS. RUHAMA BUILDBEBACK. 
 
 THE fortitude to suffer is as noble as the courage to 
 dare. Perhaps, patient endurance is rarer than bold 
 adventure. Mrs. Ruhama Builderback, the heroine 
 of the following sketch, possessed that steady firm 
 ness under suffering, which is the chief distinction of 
 the martyr. 
 
 She was born and raised in Jefferson county, Vir 
 ginia, In 1785, she married a Mr. Charles Builder- 
 back, and with him crossed the mountains and settled 
 at the mouth of Short creek, on the east bank of the 
 Ohio, a few miles above Wheeling. Her husband a 
 brave man, had on many occasions distinguished him 
 self in repelling the Indians, who had often felt the sure 
 aim of his unerring rifle. They therefore determined 
 at all hazards to kill him. 
 
 On a beautiful summer morning in June, 1789, at a 
 time when it was thought the enemy had abandoned 
 the western shores of the Ohio, Captain Charles Buil 
 derback, his wife and brother, Jacob Builderback, 
 crossed the Ohio to look after some cattle. On reaching 
 
 (109) 
 
110 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 
 
 the shore, a party of fifteen or twenty Indians rushed 
 out from an ambush, and firing upon them, wounded 
 Jacob in the shoulder. Charles was taken while he was 
 running to escape. Jacob returned to the canoe and 
 got away. In the mean time, Mrs. Builderback secreted 
 herself in some drift-wood, near the bank of the river. 
 As soon as the Indians had secured and tied her hus 
 band, and not being able to discover her hiding-place, 
 they compelled him, with threats of immediate death, 
 to call her to him. With a hope of appeasing their 
 fury, he did so. She heard him, but made no answer. 
 " Here," to use her own words, " a struggle took place 
 in my breast, which I cannot describe. Shall I go to 
 him and become a prisoner, or shall I remain, return 
 to our cabin and provide for and take care of our two 
 children." He shouted to her a second time to come 
 to him, saying, " that if she obeyed, perhaps it would 
 be the means of saving his life." She no longer hesi 
 tated, left her place of safety, and surrendered her 
 self to her savage captors. All this took place in full 
 view of their cabin, on the opposite shore, and where 
 they had left their two children, one a son about three 
 years old, and an infant daughter. The Indians know 
 ing that they would be pursued as soon as the news 
 of their visit reached the stockade, at Wheeling, com 
 menced their retreat. Mrs. Builderback and her 
 husband travelled together that day and the following 
 night. The next morning, the Indians separated into 
 two parties, one taking Builderback, and the other hig 
 
MRS. RUHAMA BUILDERBACK. Ill 
 
 wife, and continued a westward course by different 
 routes. 
 
 In a few days, the band having Mrs. Builderback 
 in custody, reached the Tuscarawas river, where they 
 encamped, and where soon rejoined by the band that 
 had had her husband in charge. Here the murderers 
 exhibited his scalp on the top of a pole, and to con 
 vince her that they had killed him, pulled it down and 
 threw it into her lap. She recognised it at once by 
 the redness of his hair. She said nothing, and uttered 
 no complaint. It was evening ; her ears pained with 
 the terrific yells of the savages, and wearied by con 
 stant travelling, she reclined against a tree and fell 
 into a profound sleep, and forgot all her sufferings 
 until morning. When she awoke, the scalp of her 
 murdered husband was gone, and she never learned 
 what became of it. Her husband commanded a com 
 pany at Crawford's defeat. He was a large, noble 
 looking man, and a bold and intrepid warrior. He 
 was in the bloody Moravian campaign, and took his 
 share in the tragedy, by shedding the first blood on 
 that occasion, when he shot, tomahawked, and scalped 
 Shebosh, a Moravian chief. But retributive justice 
 was meted to him. After being taken prisoner, the 
 Indians inquired his name. " Charles Builderback," 
 replied he, after some little pause. After this reve 
 lation, the Indians stared at each other with a malig 
 nant triumph. "Ha!" said they, "you kill many 
 Indians you big captain you kill Moravians.' 
 
112 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 from that moment, probably, Captain Builderback'a 
 death was decreed. 
 
 As soon as the capture of Builderback was known, 
 at Wheeling, a party of scouts set off in pursuit, and 
 taking the trail of one of the bands, followed it until 
 they found the body of Builderback. He had been 
 tomahawked and scalped, and apparently suffered a 
 lingering death. 
 
 The Indians, on reaching their towns on the Big 
 Miami, adopted Mrs. Builderback into a family, with 
 whom she resided until released from captivity. She 
 remained a prisoner about nine months, performing 
 the labor an ir* drudgery of squaws, such as carrying 
 in meat from the hunting-grounds, preparing and dry 
 ing it, making moccasins, leggings and other clothing 
 for the family in which she was raised. After her 
 adoption, she suffered much from the rough arid filthy 
 manner of Indian living. 
 
 In a few months after her capture, some friendly 
 Indians informed the commandant at Fort Washington, 
 that there was a white woman in captivity at the 
 Miami towns. She was ransomed and brought in to th 
 fort, and in a few weeks was sent up the river to her 
 lonely cabin, and to the embrace of her two orphan 
 children. She then recrossed the mountains, and 
 settled in her native county. 
 
 In 1791, Mrs. Builderback married Mr. John Green, 
 and in 1798, they emigrated to the Hockhocking 
 valley, and settled about three miles west of Lancaster 
 
MRS. RUHAMA BUILDEBBACK. 118 
 
 where she continued to reside until the time of her 
 death, about the year 1842. 
 
 She lived to witness the settlement of the vast wil 
 derness, where her husband had fought and she had 
 suffered ; and until her death had maintained a high 
 character among the mothers of the west. 
 
THE WIDOW SCRAGGS. 
 
 IN the following account of an attack upon the 
 house of an old widow, we have, two instances of fe 
 male heroism, which are worthy of preservation. The 
 presence of mind displayed by the old lady was admi 
 rable, and but for the destruction of the house, might 
 have saved the family, while the desperate, defence 
 made by one of her daughters, with a nmre knife, 
 showed an uncommon degice of resolution. 
 
 The house of widow Scraggs, in Bourbon county, 
 Kentucky, was attacked on the night of the llth of 
 April, 1787. She occupied what is generally called a 
 double cabin, in a lonely part of the county, one room 
 of which was tenanted by the old lady herself, together 
 with two grown sons, and a widowed daughter, at that 
 time suckling an infant, while the other was occupied 
 by two unmarried daughters from sixteen to twenty 
 years of age, together with a little girl not more than 
 half grown. The hour was eleven o'clock at night. 
 One of the unmarried daughters was still busily 
 engaged at the loom, but the other members of* the 
 (114) 
 
THE WIDOW SCRAGGS. 115 
 
 family, with the exception of one of the sons, had 
 retired to rest. Some symptoms of an alarming nature 
 had engaged the attention of the young man for an 
 hour before any thing of a decided character took 
 place. 
 
 The cry of owls was heard in the adjoining wood, 
 answering each' other in- rather an unusual manner. 
 The horses, which were inclosed as usual in a pound 
 near the house, were more than commonly excited, 
 and by repeated snorting and galloping, announced 
 the presence of terror. The young man was often upon 
 the point of awaking his brother, but was often re 
 strained by the fear of the reproach of timidity, at 
 that time an unpardonable blemish in the character of 
 a Kentuckian. At length hasty steps were heard in 
 the yard, and quickly afterwards, several loud knocks 
 at the door, accompanied by the usual exclamation, 
 "who keeps house?" in very good English. The 
 young man, supposing from the language, that some 
 benighted settlers were at the door, hastly arose, and 
 was advancing to withdraw the bar which secured it, 
 when his mother who had long lived upon the frontiers, 
 and had probably detected the Indian tone in the de 
 mand for admission, instantly sprung out of bed, and 
 ordered her son not to admit them, declaring that they 
 were Indians. 
 
 She instantly awakened her other son, and the two 
 young men seizing their guns, which were always 
 charged to repel the enemy. The Indians finding it 
 
116 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 impossible to enter under their assumed characters, 
 began to thunder at the door with great violence, but 
 a single shot from a loop hole, cempelled them to shift 
 the attack to some less exposed point; and, unfor 
 tunately, they discovered the door of the other cabin, 
 which contained the three daughters. The rifles of 
 the brothers could not be brought to bear upon this 
 point, and by means of several rails taken from the 
 yard fence, the door was forced from its hinges, and 
 the three girls were at the mercy of the savages. 
 One was instantly secured, but the eldest defended 
 herself desperately with a knife which she had been 
 using at the loom, and stabbed one of the Indians to 
 the heart, before she was tomahawked. 
 
 In the mean time the little girl, who had been over 
 looked by the enemy in their eagerness to secure the 
 others, ran out into the yard, and might have effected 
 her escape, had she taken advantage of the darkness 
 and fled, but instead of that the terrified little creature 
 ran around the house wringing her hands, and crying 
 out her sisters were killed. The brothers, unable to 
 hear her cries, without risking every thing for her 
 rescue, rushed to the door and were preparing to 
 sally out to her assistance, when their mother threw 
 herself before them and calmly declared that the child 
 must be abandoned to its fate ; that the sally would 
 sacrifice the lives of all the rest without the slightest 
 benefit to the little girl. Just then the child uttered 
 a loud scream, followed by a few faint moans and all 
 
THE WIDOW SCRAGGS. 117 
 
 was again silent. Presently the crackling of flames 
 was heard, accompanied by a triumphant yell from 
 the Indians, announcing that they had set fire to that 
 division of the house which had been occupied by 
 the daughters, and of which they held undisputed 
 possession. 
 
 The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of 
 the building, and it became necessary to abandon it 
 or perish in the flames. In the one case there was a 
 possibility that some might escape, in the other their 
 fate would be equally certain and terrible. The rapid 
 approach of the flames cut short their momentary sus 
 pense. The door was thrown open, and the old lady, 
 supported by her eldest son, attempted to cross the 
 fence at one point, while her daughter carrying her 
 child in her arms, and attended by the younger of 
 the brothers, ran in a different direction. The blazing 
 roof shed a light over the yard but little inferior to 
 that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen 
 awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady 
 was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but in 
 the act of crossing, received several balls in her breast 
 and fell dead. Her son, fortunately, "remained unhurt, 
 and by extraordinary agility, effected his escape. 
 
 The other party succeeded also in reaching the 
 fence unhurt, but in the act of crossing was vigorously 
 assailed by several Indians, who throwing down their 
 guns, rushed upon them with their tomahawks. The 
 young man defended his sister gallantly, firing upon 
 
118 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 the enemy as they approached, and then wielding the 
 butt of his rifle with a fury that drew their whole at 
 tention upon himself, and gave his sister an oppor 
 tunity of effecting her escape. He quickly fell, how 
 ever, under the tomahawks of his enemies, and wa3 
 found at day light, scalped and mangled in a shock 
 ing manner. Of the whole family, consisting of eight 
 persons, when the attack commenced, only three es 
 caped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one (the 
 second daughter) carried off as a prisoner. 
 
 The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by 
 daylight, about thirty men were assembled under the 
 command of Colonel Edwards. A light snow had fallen 
 during the latter part of the night, and the Indian 
 trail could be pursued at a gallop. It led directly into 
 the mountainous country bordering upon Licking, and 
 afforded evidences of great hurry and precipitation on 
 the part of the fugitives. Unfortunately, a hound had 
 been permitted to accompany the whites, and as the 
 trial became fresh and the scent warm, she followed 
 it with eagerness, baying loudly and giving the alarm 
 to the Indians. The consequences of this imprudence 
 were soon displayed. The enemy finding the pursuit 
 keen, and perceiving that the strength of the prisoner 
 began to fail, instantly sunk their tomahawks in her 
 head and left her still warm and bleeding upon the 
 snow. 
 
 As the whites came up, she retained strength 
 enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, and 
 
THE WIDOW SCRAGGS. 11.9 
 
 appeared desirous of giving them some information, 
 with regard to the enemy, but her strength was too 
 far gone. Her brother sprung from his horse and 
 knelt by her side, endeavoring to stop the effusion of 
 blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttered 
 some inarticulate words, and expired within two mi 
 nutes of the arrival of the party. The pursuit was 
 renewed, and in twenty minutes the enemy was in 
 view. They had taken possession of a steep, narrow 
 ridge, and. endeavored to magnify their numbers by 
 rapidly passing from tree to tree, and yelling in ap 
 palling tones. The pursuers, however, were satisfied 
 that the enemy were inferior in number to themselves, 
 and dismounting from their horses, rapidly ascended 
 the ridge. The firing soon commenced, when they 
 discovered that only two Indians were opposed to 
 them. They had voluntarily sacrificed themselves 
 for the safety of the main body, and had succeeded 
 in delaying pursuit until their friends could reach the 
 mountains. One of them was instantly shot dead, 
 and the other was badly wounded, as was evident from 
 the blood which filled his tracks in the snow. The 
 pursuit was recommenced, until night, when the trail 
 entered a running stream and was lost. On the fol 
 lowing morning the snow had melted, and every trac 
 of the enemy was obliterated. 
 
MRS. WOODS. 
 
 AMONG the many instances of women successfully 
 defending their homes in the absence of their husbands, 
 the achievement of Mrs. Woods deserves to be remem 
 bered. This woman resided in a cabin near the Crab 
 Orchard, Lincoln county, Kentucky. Early one morn 
 ing, sometime in the year 1784, Mr. Woods being ab 
 sent from home, and Mrs. Woods a short distance from 
 the cabin, she discovered several Indians advancing 
 towards it. She ran towards the cabin, and reached- 
 the door before all the Indians but one, who pursued 
 BO closely, that before she could secure the door, he 
 entered. A lame negro in the cabin instantly seized 
 the savage, and, after a short scuffle, they both fell 
 the negro underneath. The resolute black fellow held 
 his antagonist so tightly that he could not use his 
 knife. Mrs. Woods then seized an axe from under 
 the bed, and, at the request of the negro, struck the 
 savage upon the head. The first blow was not fatal : 
 but the second scattered the brains of the Indian 
 around the cabin. In the meantime, the other Indians 
 (120) 
 

MRS. WOODS. 121 
 
 vrere at the door endeavoring to force it open with 
 their tomahawks. The negro arose, and proposed to 
 Mrs. Woods to let another Indian enter, and they 
 could soon dispatch him. In this way they could have 
 disposed of the whole party. But this was rendered 
 unnecessary. The cabin was but a short distance from 
 a station, the occupants of which, having discovered 
 the perilous situation of the Woods family, fired on 
 the Indians, killed one, and put the others to flight. 
 
 Throughout this trying time, Mrs. Woods behaved 
 with the courage and devotion of a lioness defending 
 her offspring. Had she not retained her presence of 
 mind, and aided the efforts of the brave negro, a scene 
 of massacre and desolation would have followed the 
 appearance of the savages. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN 
 AND HER FAMILY. 
 
 THE following romantic and interesting narrative 
 is copied from the Whig Review. 
 
 From the year of 1780 to 1790, many of the best 
 families of the Carolinas, Georgia, and Virginia, sought 
 homes beyond the mountains. Many of them, patriotic 
 republicans, who had sacrified every thing for their 
 country, in the struggle for independence, and hoped 
 to have found, in the secluded vales and thick forests 
 of the west, that peace and quiet which they had not 
 found amid the din of civil and foreign war, soon ex 
 perienced all the horrors of a savage, marauding, 
 guerilla warfare, which swept away their property, 
 and deprived them of their wives and children, either 
 by a barbarous death, o** not less agonizing slavery 
 as captives, dragged into the wild recesses of the 
 Indian borders. 
 
 Many fearful tales of these bloody scenes, which 
 would illustrate the early history of Tennessee, are 
 only known to a few, as family traditions, and even 
 (122) 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILf. 123 
 
 among the descendants of the sufferers, are only re 
 membered as stories of the nursery, and not as chap 
 ters of the great historic record of the past. " It is 
 not always," says Pluturch, " in the most distinguished 
 achievements that man's virtues or vices may be best 
 discerned ; but often an action of small note, or short 
 saying, or a jest, shall distinguish a person's real 
 character more than the greatest sieges or the most 
 important battles." And so it is, in some sort, with 
 the history of a people or a nation. The experiences, 
 the sufferings, and conduct of a single individual of a 
 community, may better illustrate the condition, pro 
 gress, or character of the people, than whole chapters 
 devoted to a campaign. 
 
 In this point of view, the traditional recollections 
 which are detailed in the following sketch of the fa 
 mily of James Brown, connected as they were, so inti 
 mately with some of the most important political 
 events of that period, cannot fail to throw new light 
 upon the pioneer history of the country, and inspire 
 our hearts with renewed gratitude to those hardy, but 
 wise men and women, who built up so goodly a state, 
 amid so many troubles, in the dark and bloody valleys 
 of the Shanvanon, Tanasees, and Ho-go-hegee. 
 
 The subject of this sketch was born in Pennsylvania, 
 about the year 1740. Her father was a pioneer in 
 the settlement of North Carolina. Her family was 
 one of the most respectable, as well as the most worthy, 
 in the county of Guilford, where they resided during 
 
124 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 the revolutionary war. Two of her brothers, Colonei 
 and Major Gillespie, where distinguished for theif 
 gallantry and devotion to the cause of liberty, and 
 were honored as brave officers. Herself and most of 
 her family were members of the Rev. David Caldwell's 
 church at Guilford, and ardently espoused both his 
 political and religious principles. 
 
 About 1761 or 1762, Miss Gillespie became the 
 wife of James Brown, a native of Ireland, whose fa 
 mily settled in Guilford some years before. At the 
 beginning of the revolution, Mrs. Brown had a large 
 family of small children, but she freely gave up her 
 husband when his country demanded his services. 
 During the masterly retreat of General Greene, in the 
 winter of 1781, on Dan and Deep rivers, Mr. Brown 
 was the pilot and guide of Colonels Lee and Washing 
 ton, and, by his intimate knowledge of the country, 
 its by-paths and fords, contributed not a little to the 
 successful counter-marches of the American army, by 
 which they were enabled to elude and break the spirit 
 of the army under Lord Cornwallis. When the Ame 
 rican army assumed the offensive, and, from a retreat 
 ing, suddenly became a pursuing army, Brown pressed 
 eagerly into the fight with the bold troopers of Lee 
 and Washington. 
 
 Being in moderate circumstances, and pressed by 
 the cares of a large and increasing family, Brown's 
 ardent temperament was not satisfied with the pros 
 pect of a plodding life of toil in Guilford. For his 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 125 
 
 revolutionary services he had received from the state 
 of North Carolina^ land- warrants, which entitled him 
 to locate a large quantity of lands in the wilderness 
 beyond the mountains. His neighbors had honored 
 him as the sheriff of the county, and as a justice of 
 the county court, and he was rapidly rising in the 
 estimation of his countrymen, for his patriotism, integ 
 rity, and many other virtues of a good citizen. But 
 he readily saw the advantages which he might secure 
 to his rising family by striking out into the deep fo 
 rests, and securing for them the choicest homes in 
 the Cumberland valleys. He could command only a 
 trifle in money for his land-script, but by exposing 
 himself to a few years of hardship and danger, he 
 could secure independent estates for his numerous 
 children. With him it was but to think and to act ; 
 his decision and his action went together. Tearing 
 himself from the bosom of his family, and all the en 
 dearments of a happy home circle, he set out on his 
 journey to explore the valley of the Cumberland. 
 
 The whole of Tennessee was then a wilderness, ex 
 cept a small spot on the Holston and Watauga, on the 
 east, and a small spot around Nashville and Bledsoe's 
 Lick, on the west of the Cumberland mountains. 
 Taking with him his two oldest sons, William and 
 John, and a few tried friends, he explored the Cum 
 berland valley. He secured lands on the Cumberland 
 river below Nashville, at the place now known aa 
 Hyde's Ferry. He also explored the wilderness south, 
 
126 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 as far as Duck river, and located a large body of land 
 south of Duck river, near Columbia. The whole 
 country was then almost untrod by the foot of the 
 white man. It was the hunting-ground of the Chica- 
 saws, Creeks, and Cherokees, and was full of deer, 
 bear, and buffaloes. The rich uplands, as well as the 
 alluvial bottoms of the rivers, were covered with cane- 
 brakes, which were almost impervious to man. Who 
 ever penetrated these regions, did so with knife and 
 hatchet to cut away the cane, and with rifle to oppose 
 the savage beasts and savage men who swarmed 
 through its deep fastnesses. But Brown's heart waa 
 a bold one, and his hopes for the future animated 
 his perseverance. Having located by actual survey, 
 several fine tracts of land, he determined to return to 
 Guilford and remove his family to their new home in 
 the west. Leaving William as a deputy surveyor 
 under Colonel Polk, and John to open and cultivate 
 a small field, and build some cabins at the mouth of 
 White's creek, he returned to North Carolina. 
 
 In the winter of 1787-88, Brown and his family, 
 having disposed of their property, found themselves 
 on the banks of the French Broad, in what is now 
 Hawkins county, Tennessee, waiting the opening of 
 the spring, before beginning their journey across the 
 mountains to the Cumberland valley. 
 
 In 1785, the treaty of Hopewell had been concluded 
 with the Cherokees, guaranteeing reciprocal friend 
 ship between that nation and the Americans. At the 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HEK FAMILY. 127 
 
 time Brown arrived on the banks of the French Broad, 
 there was apparent acquiesence in the terms of thia 
 treaty, and the Cherokee and the white man seemed, 
 for a time, to have smoked the pipe of peace, and buried 
 the tomahawk for ever. 
 
 There were two routes to the Cumberland valley at 
 this time : the one was by land, the other by water. 
 The land route was a long and tedious one ; through 
 the Cumberland Gap, across the head-waters of the 
 Cumberland, Green, and Barren rivers, in Kentucky, 
 to Bledsoe's Lick, or Nashville. The other route was 
 easier of accomplishment, and more desirable ; because, 
 being by the descent of the river, it admitted of the 
 transportation of goods and aged persons. Brown, on 
 his recent visit to Cumberland, had heard of Colonel 
 Donaldson's voyage down the Tennessee, up the Ohio 
 and Cumberland, to Nashville, and of one or two other 
 parties who had succeeded in making the same voyage. 
 As he had women and small children, and packages 
 of goods, which he was taking to the West, he resolved 
 to hazard the descent of the Tennessee river. 
 
 He was not ignorant of the fact that there were many 
 populous Indian towns on the Tennessee river, of both 
 the Cherokee and Chickasaw nations, and that ma 
 rauding parties of Creeks and Shawanese were often 
 on its shores and towns. He knew the danger of the 
 voyage, on account of the hostile Indians who might 
 be encountered on its waters or its shores ; and he also 
 knew its numerous shoals, rapids, and eddies, rendered 
 
128 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 its navigation perilous to such frail open boats as could 
 then be constructed. But he confided in the honest 
 disposition of the Cherokees to conform to the treaty 
 of Hopewell, and felt that the marauding Creeks and 
 Shawanese would prove less dangerous on the water 
 ehan on the circuitous land route to the Cumberland. 
 Having been habitually exposed to. danger for many 
 years, it is probable he rather sought the most perilous 
 and dangerous route, feeling a sort of manly desire to 
 meet and overcome it. 
 
 Having built a boat, after the style of a common 
 flatboat, modeled as much as possible after the style 
 of Noah's ark, (except that it was open at the top,) he 
 prepared to venture the fearful voyage. About the 
 1st of May, 1788, having on board a large amount of 
 goods suitable for traffic among the Indians and the 
 pioneers in Cumberland, his party embarked upon the 
 bosom of French Broad. The party was a small and 
 weak one, considering the dangers it had to encounter, 
 and the valuable cargo it had to defend. It consisted 
 of Brown, two grown sons, three hired men and a negro 
 man, in all, seven grown men ; Mrs. Brown, three small 
 sons, and four small daughters ; an aged woman, the 
 mother of one of the hired men, and two or three negro 
 women, the property of Brown. 
 
 To make up for the weakness of his party, Brown 
 had mounted a small cannon upon the prow of his 
 boat, and no doubt relied as much for his security 
 upon the known terror which such guns inspired ir 
 
CAPTIVITY OP JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 125* 
 
 the breasts of the savages, as upon any damage which 
 he expected to inflict upon them with it. Thus ap 
 pointed, and thus equipped, this happy family began 
 its eventful descent of the French Broad and the 
 Tennessee. 
 
 All was gladness, all was sunshine. The land of 
 their fathers, of their loving friends and pastor, was 
 behind them ; beneath their oars flashed the bright 
 waters of a lovely stream, whose winding channel 
 would soon bear them to the enchanted valley of the 
 fair Cumberland. As they passed rapidly along the 
 current which was to bear them to their new home, 
 the father sat in the midst of his little children, hope 
 fully describing their new home in the deep forests of 
 the west. 
 
 They thus descended the French Broad to the Ten 
 nessee, and went on merrily down its waters to the 
 Chickamanga, a considerable town of Cherokee In 
 dians, situated not far from the present site of Chat 
 tanooga. Here the Indians appeared friendly ; the 
 principal chief went on board the boat, and made in 
 quiry for various kinds of goods, prepared to trade, 
 and finally took his leave, with many professions of 
 kindness. Our voyagers continued their descent, re 
 joicing in the happy omen which the friendship of the 
 Chickamanga chieftain opened for their future. 
 
 The next day, the 9th of May, the solitary perogue 
 or flatboat of the pioneer Brown had passed several 
 
 Indian villages, and had come in view of the towns of 
 9 
 
130 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Running Water and Nickajack, the last. Cherokee 
 towns where there was any considerable body of In 
 dians. The voyagers began to rejoice in their happy 
 deliverance from the principal dangers which had 
 threatened their journey. They would in a few hours 
 be through the passes of the mountain, on the wide 
 bosom of a noble river, where they would be compara 
 tively free from the ambuscade of lurking Indians. 
 
 But suddenly four canoes with white flags and naked 
 savages kneeling in them as rowers, glide out into the 
 river and rapidly approach ; fearing some mischief, 
 Brown immediately turned his cannon upon the ap 
 proaching canoes, and, with the lighted match, bade 
 them keep off at the peril of their lives. 
 
 Struck with astonishment at the bold threat, they 
 paused, and pulled their frail canoes a little out of range 
 of the big gun. A man by the name of John Vaun, a 
 well-known half-breed, who spoke good English, was 
 the leader of the party, but he was unknown to Brown. 
 Vaun spoke to Brown, and said that his party came in 
 friendship ; that, as an evidence of that, they had raised 
 a white flag ; that they came as his friends to trade 
 with him. Brown, who was a bold and fearless man, 
 and dared to face a thousand savages, still kept them 
 off; but at last, confiding in the assurance of Vaun that 
 he was a white man, and that the Indians would respect 
 the persons and property of his party, in an unguarded 
 moment consented that a part of the Indians might 
 come on board. A dozen Indians now came on board, 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND IIER FAMILY. 131 
 
 and lashed their canoes to the side of the boat. Aa 
 they came near the town, hundreds of Indians dashed 
 out into the river in their canoes, and came along side 
 of their boat. Having thus secured possession of the 
 boat, the leading men, more especially Vaun, assured 
 Brown that no harm was intended. In the meantime, 
 each Indian seized upon whatever he fancied, and 
 threw it into his canoe. In this way several boxes 
 and trunks were instantly rifled. Yaun pretended to 
 order his fellows to abstain, but they paid no atten 
 tion to him. A bold warrior now demanded of Brown 
 the key of a large chest, which contained his most 
 valuable stores, which he refused to give, telling the 
 Indians that Mrs. Brown had it. The Indian no^ 
 demanded it of Mrs. Brown, but she boldly refused to 
 give it up. 
 
 The Indian then split the top of the chest open with 
 his tomahawk, and his example was immediately fol 
 lowed by the other Indians, who broke open and rifled 
 every box and package in the boat. While this was 
 going on, an Indian rudely took hold of Joseph Brown, 
 a lad fifteen years old, and the old man seized the 
 Indian and forced him to let the boy go. An instant 
 after, the Indian seized a sword which was lying on 
 the boat, and while old Brown's back was turned to 
 him, struck him on the back of the neck, almost se 
 vering' his head from his body. Brown turned in the 
 agony of death and seized the Indian, and in the 
 struggle. was thrown overboard, where he sank to rise 
 
132 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 no more. The boat was now turned into the mouth 
 of a little creek, in the town of Nickajaek, and the 
 whole party taken on shore, in the midst of several 
 hundred warriors, women, and children. In the mean 
 time, Yaun continued to tell the sons of Brown that 
 all this was a violation of the treaty of Hopewell, and 
 that Breath, who was the chief of Nickajack and Run 
 ning Water, who was expected there that night, would 
 punish the marauders, restore their goods, and send 
 them on their voyage. But at this very moment, se 
 veral leading warriors of the upper towns had seized 
 upon Brown's negroes as lawful spoil, and had dis 
 patched them in canoes to their several homes. What- 
 eVer may have been Vaun's true motives, his interfe 
 rence on this occasion had the effect to place the whole 
 party at the mercy of the Indians, without a particle 
 of resistance. If he acted in good faith, he was shame 
 fully deceived by his followers ; but if he only used 
 his address to disarm the voyagers, that they might 
 the more easily fall victims to savage ferocity, his con 
 duct exhibits the climax of perfidy. 
 
 A party of Creek braves, who were engaged with 
 the men of Nickajack and Running Water in this out 
 rage, having seized upon their share of the plunder, 
 and having taken possession of Mrs. Brown and her 
 son George, ten years, old, and three small daughters, 
 immediately began their march to their own nation. 
 While the Cherokees were deliberating upon the fate 
 of the prisoners and a division of the spoils, they adroitly 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 138 - 
 
 withdrew from the council, on the plea that all this 
 belonged to the head men of Nickajack. Thus, in one 
 short hour, deprived of husband, sons, friends, liberty, 
 and all, this devoted woman, with her five smallest 
 children, began her sad journey on foot, along the 
 rugged, flinty trails that lead to the Creek towns, on 
 the Tallapoosa river. 
 
 At the time of this outrage, there was living at or 
 near Nickajack, a French trader, named Thomas Tun- 
 bridge, who was married to a white woman, who had 
 been taken prisoner near Mobile, when an infant, and 
 raised by the Indians. After she was grown, she was 
 exchanged, but refused to leave the Indians, distrust 
 ing her abilities to adapt her habits to civilized life. 
 She had been married to an Indian brave, by whom 
 she had a son, now twenty-one years old, who was one 
 of the boldest warriors of the Cherokee towns. He 
 had already killed six white men in his forays to the 
 Cumberland settlement. Having all the versatility of 
 his mother's race, as well as the ferocity of his father, 
 he was fast rising into distinction as a warrior, and 
 bade fair to reach the first honors of his nation. His 
 praises for daring and chivalry were in the mouths 
 of all. 
 
 His mother was now growing old, and having no 
 young children, her son desire^d to present to her some 
 bright-eyed boy as a slave ; for, according to the savage 
 code of the times, each captive became a slave to it3 
 captor. This woman's son, whose name was Kiacha 
 
134 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 talee, was one of the leaders of the marauding party 
 who had seized upon Brown's boat, and from the first 
 knew the fate of the party. Before the boat landed, 
 lie tried to induce Joseph, a boy then fifteen years old, 
 but quite small, to get into his canoe, with the inten 
 tions of withdrawing him from the general massacre, 
 that was soon to take place, but the boy would not go 
 with him. When the boat landed, Kiachatalee took 
 Joseph to his step-father, Tunbridge, who in good En 
 glish told the boy that he lived a mile out of the town, 
 and invited him to go and spend the night with him. 
 This the boy did, after asking the consent of his older 
 brothers. Tunbridge seized the boy by the hand and 
 hurried him away. 
 
 They had scarcely gone out of the town before they 
 heard the rifles of the savage braves, who were mur 
 dering his brothers and friends. What were the feel 
 ings of this poor boy at this moment ? His father 
 slain by an Indian brave ; his brothers and friends 
 weltering in their blood, amidst the yells of savage 
 assassins; and his mother and brother, and sisters 
 borne off, he knew not whither, by a band of lawless 
 Creek marauders ! To add to this agony at such a 
 moment, an aged Indian woman, with hair dishevelled, 
 and her round, fat face discolored, with excitement, 
 followed them to the trader's house, calling upon Tun 
 bridge to produce the white man, exclaiming with a 
 fiendish air of triumph, " All the rest are killed, and 
 he must die also !" 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 135 
 
 The trader calmly replied to her, " He's only a little 
 boy. It's a shame to kill children. He shall not be 
 killed." 
 
 The old hag was excited, and vowed that the boy 
 should be killed. She said, " He was too large to allow 
 him to live. In two or three years he would be a man ; 
 he would learn the country, its towns and its rivers ; 
 would make his escape, and come back with an army 
 of white men to destroy us all." She said her son, 
 Cutty-a-toy, was a brave chief, and that he would be 
 there in a few minutes to kill the boy. 
 
 In a few minutes, Cutty-a-toy, followed by many 
 armed warriors, rushed upon the trader's house, and 
 demanded the white boy. The chief said the boy was 
 too large, that he would soon be grown, would make 
 his escape, and bring back an army to destroy their 
 town. 
 
 The trader stood, with cool courage, in the door of 
 his lodge, and refused to surrender the prisoner, saying 
 it was not right to kill children, and also warning the 
 angry chief that the boy was the prisoner of Kiacha- 
 talee, his son, and, if he was injured or slain, Kiacha- 
 talee would be revenged for it. As Kiachatalee was 
 only a young warrior, and Cutty-a-toy a chief and a 
 gray-beard, this threat of revenge greatly incensed 
 him. In an instant he raised his tomahawk, and, with 
 the air of a man who intends a deed of murder, de 
 manded of the trader, " And are you the friend of the 
 Virginian ?" 
 
136 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Answering the look rather than the words, the trader 
 stepped out of his door, and said to the bloody brave, 
 "Take him." 
 
 Cutt j-a-toy then rushed into the trader's lodge, seized 
 the boy by the throat, and was about to brain him with 
 his tomahawk, when the wife of Tunbridge interposed, 
 in a tone of supplication which at once succeeded. 
 
 " Will the brave chieftain kill the boy in my house ? 
 Let not the boy's blood stain my floor." 
 
 The appeal of the woman reached the savage's heart. 
 He dropped his weapon and slowly dragged the boy 
 out of the lodge into the midst of a crowd of savages, 
 who waved their knives and hatchets in the poor boy's 
 face, in order to enjoy his terror. 
 
 In the path which led from the house the boy fell 
 upon his knees while the savages were tearing off his 
 clothes, and asked the trader to request the savages to 
 give him one half hour to pray. The trader roughly 
 replied, " Boy it's not worth while ; they'll kill you." 
 As the boy stood in momentary expectation of his fate, 
 the trader's wife again interposed, and begged the 
 savage chief not to kill the boy in her yard, or in the 
 path along which she had to carry water, but to take 
 him out in the mountains, where the birds and wolves 
 might eat up his flesh, where she could not see his 
 blood !" 
 
 The appeal of the woman was again heard, and 
 giving the boy his pantaloons, they held a short talk, 
 and agreed to take the boy down to the Running 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 131 
 
 Water, saying to the trader's wife, " We will not spill 
 this boy's blood near your house ; but we will take 
 him to the Running Water, where we will have a 
 frolic knocking him in the head." 
 
 Having gone about three hundred yards, they halted 
 and formed a circle around the boy, and with their 
 tomahawks seemed to be on the point of killing him. 
 The boy again fell upon his knees, and, with his face 
 upturned towards heaven, and his hands firmly clasped 
 on his breast, remained in prayer, expecting at each 
 moment the fatal blow. At this dreadful moment the 
 boy thought of Stephen, to whose vision the heavens 
 were opened at the moment of his death and was 
 happy. As the savage braves stood around him, young 
 Brown saw their stern brows of revenge suddenly relax, 
 and a smile of sympathy and pity succeed. They called 
 the trader, told him to take the boy, that they would 
 not kill him ; and Cutty-a-toy said he loved the boy 
 and would come back in three weeks and make friends 
 with him. It was afterwards ascertained that Cutty- 
 a-toy had taken some of Brown's negroes, and claimed 
 them as his prisoners, and that his fear lest Kiacha- 
 talee might retaliate by killing his negro prisoners, 
 was the thought which suddenly turned Cutty-a-toy to 
 mercy and pity. So thought his own followers, for 
 when he said he loved the boy, and would not kill him, 
 his savage followers replied : 
 
 "No, no, he does not love the boy; it's the boy's 
 negro he loves." 
 
138 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 When Cutty-a-toy's mother saw that the boy's life 
 would not be taken, she seemed displeased ; went up 
 to the boy and cut off his scalp-lock, and kicked him 
 so rudely in the side as almost to kill him, exclaiming, 
 "I've got the Virginian's scalp." 
 
 The Tuskegee chief, Cutty-a-toy, led his party away 
 leaving the boy in the hands of the trader and his wife. 
 In two or three days, the boy was taken into Nicka- 
 jack, and the kind old chief, Breath, who greatly re 
 gretted what had taken place in his absence, took 
 Joseph by the hand, calmly heard a narrative of his 
 situation from the trader's wife, and then told the boy 
 that he must be adopted into his tribe, and become an 
 Indian, if he would save his life ; that there was no 
 other way in which his life could be saved. To that 
 end, the chief adopted him into his own family, and 
 told Joseph that he was his uncle, and that Kiachatalee 
 was his brother. His head was then shaved, leaving 
 only a fillet of hair on the top, in which a bunch of 
 feathers was tied, his ears pierced for rings, and his 
 clothes taken off ; the flap substituted for trowsers, and 
 a short shirt substituted for a coat, shirt, and vest, and 
 his nether vestments consisting of a pair of deer-skin 
 moccasins. In this condition he was prpnounced an 
 Indian, with the exception of a slit in each ear, which 
 the kindness of the chief deferred making until cold 
 weather. The trader's wife took him to see his two 
 sisters, Jane, aged ten, and Polly, aged five years, whc 
 had just been brought back to Nickajack ; a party of 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 
 
 Cherokees having pursued the Creek braves, and re 
 captured from them these two small girls, after they 
 had been taken some distance towards the Creek towns. 
 From his sister Jane, Joseph learned the destination 
 of the party who had carried off his mother, his bro 
 ther George, and sister Elizabeth. These children 
 were now in the same town, adopted into different 
 families, and -it was a source of consolation to them 
 to be allowed to see each other occasionally. In the 
 various toils which were imposed upon these captive 
 children, such as carrying water and wood, pounding 
 hominy, and working corn in the fields, and, on the 
 part of the boy, in looking after the stock, nearly a 
 year passed off, without many incidents worthy of 
 note. Hostile parties of savages came and went, and 
 tales of barbarous deeds done by them on the distant 
 frontiers were often told in the hearing of these child 
 ren, but none of them brought deliverance for them. 
 Yet in but few instances did the savage neighbors of 
 these captive children treat them unkindly. Three or 
 four times the boy's life was in danger from lawless 
 braves, whose blood-thirsty natures panted for the 
 blood of the white man. The good old chief, Breath, 
 hearing of these things, caused young Brown to be 
 armed, and declared it should be lawful for him to slay 
 any Indian who should mistreat him. 
 
 In a few months Joseph was allowed a rifle and a 
 horse, and permitted to go into the woods to hunt. He 
 might often have availed himself of the kindness of 
 
140 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 bis savage friends, and made his escape to the frontiers, 
 but he loved his little sisters, and his love for them 
 restrained his desire for freedom, least his escape 
 might add to the rigors of their slavery or perhaps for 
 ever prevent their deliverance. 
 
 In the meantime, an open war had been going on 
 between the Indians and the people of Cumberland 
 and East Tennessee. Two thousand warriors, prin 
 cipally Cherokees, of whom four or five hundred were 
 horsemen, dressed as white men, made an irruption 
 into East Tennessee, killing every thing before them. 
 
 During this invasion, the Indians, sending forward 
 tfyeir mounted men, dressed as white men, were enabled 
 to surprise many, and thus to make a havoc which 
 they could not have done otherwise. This irruption 
 of the Indians was caused, they alleged, by the murder 
 of Tassel, their chief, when he had gone under a white 
 flag to General Sevier, to hold a talk. In this foray, the 
 Indians took Fort Gillespie, murdered the garrison, 
 and carried off Mrs. Glass, the sister of Captain 
 Gillespie. 
 
 The whole country was aroused. General Joseph 
 Martin and General John Sevier headed a large army, 
 marched into the Indian nation, burnt their towns, 
 and carried off their women and children. Amongst 
 other prisoners taken at this time, was the daughter 
 of Turkey, the chief of the Cherokees. 
 
 In the spring of 1789, an exchange of prisoners was 
 agreed upon, at a talk held with General >Sevier. It 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 141 
 
 ffas agreed that the Cherokees should make an abso 
 lute surrender of all the white prisoners within their 
 borders, and runners were sent to each of the head 
 men, to send their captives to the Little Turkey for 
 an exchange. When these runners came to Nickajack, 
 young Brown was on a trading trip down the river 
 with his Indian brother, Kiachatalee, and did not re 
 turn until Mrs. Glass and all the other prisoners had 
 gone up to Running Water, where the chief was await 
 ing their arrival. 
 
 When young Brown got home, he was sent with one 
 of his sisters to Running Water, in order to be sent 
 up to the treaty-grounds to be exchanged. His little 
 sister would not leave her Indian mother, who had 
 ever treated her kindly, -but wept and clung to her 
 neck, declaring that it would break her Indian mo 
 ther's heart if she left her. This tender feeling was 
 a tril)8 tri ^o savage kindness ; but young Brown finally 
 took hia sister in his arms, and carried her some dis 
 tance before he could reconcile her to go with him. 
 His eldest sister belonged to a trader, who said he 
 had bought her with his money, and would not let her 
 go. Young Brown had to leave her behind, being 
 wholly unable to redeem her. 
 
 At Running Water, young Brown heard Turkey, 
 the head chief, stating to his chiefs around him the 
 terms of the treaty he had made ; and in doing so, 
 his followers upbraided him for agreeing to delivei 
 so many prisoners without any ransom. 
 
142 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 To this the chief replied, " That Little John, (Go, 
 vernor Sevier) would have it so ; that he was a verj 
 mean man a dog ; but he had my daughter a pri 
 soner, and he knew I would have to agree to any 
 terms, to get her back." 
 
 The next morning, when the Indian chief was about 
 to start his prisoners forward, young Brown refused 
 to go, and was taken to the chief to give his reasons. 
 He then stated that one of his sisters was left in Nick- 
 ajack, and that he never would consent to be set at 
 liberty without his sister. The savage chief imme 
 diately sent for the girl, and, after some delay, Co 
 lonel Bench, the chief of the mounted regimeirt of 
 Indians, went himself, and brought the girl to Running 
 Water. Thus, about the 1st of May, 1789, young 
 Brown and his two sisters were once more restored to 
 liberty. Being reduced to poverty, these now orphan 
 children were sent into South Carolina, to sojourn 
 with some relatives, until their elder brother, who was 
 in Cumberland, could go after them, or until their 
 mother should be released from her captivity amongst 
 the Creeks. 
 
 In order to keep up the thread of our narrative, we 
 must now return to the 9th of May, 1788, and con 
 tinue the narrative of Mrs. Brown's captivity. Having 
 seen her husband fall by the hands of the savages, she 
 was hurried away by her captors, and took the road 
 southward, just as she heard the yells and rifles of 
 the cruel savages, who also murdered her sons and 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 143 
 
 their companions. What must have been the feelings 
 of horror and agony of this poor woman, herself a 
 prisoner in the hands of she knew not whom, and 
 borne she knew not whither ! To add to the horror 
 of her situation, she soon saw two of her sweet little 
 daughters torn from her side by a party of Cherokees, 
 and borne back, she knew not whither, nor for what 
 purpose. 
 
 Driven forward on foot for many days and nights, 
 she continued to bear up under the bodily fatigues 
 and mental anguish by which she was tortured, her 
 feet blistered and swollen, and driven before the band 
 along a flinty path, every moment expecting death if 
 she failed, and every moment expecting to fail ! She 
 yet accomplishes many days' travel, and finally reaches 
 one of the upper Creek towns, on the Tallapoosa, far 
 down in the wilderness, the prisoner and slave of a 
 savage brave. Arrived at the town of her captor, 
 she finds she is a slave, doomed to bear wood and 
 water, and to pound hominy, and to do all the servile 
 offices of her savage mistress. To add to her distress, 
 her son, nine years old, and her daughter, seven, are 
 taken to different towns, and she is left indeed alone 
 in her sorrow. 
 
 At the period of Mrs. Brown's captivity, Alexander 
 M'Gillevray, a half-breed Creek, of Scotch descent, 
 was the head chief of the Muscogee Indians, and ac 
 tually assumed the high-sounding title of comman der 
 m-chief of the Upper and Lower Creeks and Semi 
 
1 44 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 noles ; being the military as well as the civil governor 
 of all the Indians of Florida, Alabama, and Lower 
 Georgia. He was a man of letters, of keen sagacity, 
 forest-born and forest-bred, combining the shrewd 
 ness of the savage with the learning of the civilized 
 man. Fortunately for Mrs. Brown, her cruel captor 
 took her to a town in which lived a sister of M'Gille- 
 vray, who was the wife of a French trader by the name 
 of Durant. Her age and dignified bearing under the 
 toils which were imposed upon her, excited the sym 
 pathy and compassion of this kind-hearted Indian wo 
 man. Several weeks passed before she found an oppor 
 tunity, but when Mrs. Brown's savage master was ab 
 sent, the wife of Durant spoke to her kindly, told her 
 that she pitied her for her sorrow, and would, if she 
 could, relieve her. She said that her brother, the chief 
 of the Creeks, did not approve of his people making 
 slaves of the white women ; and that he was a liberal, 
 high-minded man, who had a soul of honor, and could 
 never turn away from a helpless woman who flew to 
 him for succor. " Why do you not fly to him ?" asked 
 the simple-hearted woman. 
 
 Mrs. Brown explained to her her total ignorance of 
 the country, and her inability to reach the residence 
 of Colonel M'Gillevray. The Indian woman listened 
 to her, and then said, " It is true ; but if you will, there 
 is my horse, and there is my saddle. You are wel 
 come to them ; but you must take them. I cannot give 
 them, but my husband shall never pursue. You can 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 145 
 
 take them without danger." It was arranged. On a 
 certain morning the Indian woman sent an aged Indian 
 to a trader's house, who was to act as the guide of Mrs. 
 Brown that far, and from that point the trader was to 
 procure a guide and a horse. 
 
 At the appointed time, Mrs. Brown, mounted upon 
 her friend's horse and saddle, started on in pursuit of 
 her Indian guide, who travelled on as though he was 
 entirely unconscious of her existence. She arrived in 
 safety at the trader's lodge, and was by him furnished 
 with a guide and horse to the chieftain's residence. 
 Full of gratitude for intended kindness, yet she ap 
 proached the Creek chieftain with many feelings of 
 doubt and misgiving. He received her kindly, heard 
 her story attentively, and, after considering it well, 
 gave Mrs. Brown a cordial welcome to his house, and 
 bade her stay with his wife, as a member of his family, 
 He explained to her that, according to the usage of 
 his people ; she belonged to her captor, and that he 
 had no right to take her from him. 
 
 He said, however, that he could no doubt reconcile 
 her master by some presents, when he should follow, 
 as he no doubt would before long. He told her she 
 could make shirts or other garments for the traders, 
 and soon provide herself with every thing necessary 
 for her comfort. In the meantime, he would furnish 
 her with whatever she needed. Mrs. Brown accepted 
 the savage chieftain's proffered protection, and took 
 shelter under his roof.. 
 10 
 
146 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 She had been there but a few days when she waf 
 startled by the appearance of her savage master, who 
 had followed her to her place of refuge. Fortunately 
 for her, the chieftain was at home, and himself met 
 her pursuer. The savage gruffly demanded of his chief 
 tain the white woman, his prisoner. 
 
 Colonel M'Gillevray at once informed him that she 
 was in his house, and that he had promised to protect 
 her. The savage merely replied, "Well, if you do not 
 give me back my prisoner, I'll kill her." The wily 
 chieftain knew his man, and, humoring his temper, re 
 plied, " That is true. She is your -prisoner, and you 
 can kill her if you choose. I know she is a weak woman 
 and you are a brave warrior. Would you tie the scalp 
 of a squaw about your neck ?" 
 
 " But she can carry water, and hoe corn, and pound 
 hominy for my wife," said the Creek warrior; "and 
 she's mine; she's my prisoner." 
 
 " That's true," said the chieftain ; " but if you kill 
 her, will she carry any more water ? Can the dead 
 work ? If you will consent to leave her with me, so 
 that I can send her back to her people, I will send your 
 wife a new dress, and will give you a rifle, some powder 
 and lead, and some beads and paints ; and when you 
 go back to your wife, she will not see the blood of a 
 woman upon your hands !" 
 
 Savage cupidity overcame savage revenge, and Mrs. 
 Brown became the ransomed captive of the brave and 
 generous M'Gillevray; a noble instance of chivalry on 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 147 
 
 the part of a savage chieftain, which reflects more 
 honor on his name than the glory of a hundred battles 
 fought by his people during his chieftaincy. 
 
 For several months Mrs. Brown plied her needle ir 
 the chieftain's lodge, and, by her experience in the 
 craft of needle-work, soon rendered herself useful to 
 her savage friends, and by her dignity and energy 
 commanded their respect. 
 
 The chieftain, on his next visit to the upper Creek 
 towns, found Mrs. Brown's daughter, Elizabeth, aged 
 about seven years, and generously purchased her from 
 her master, and upon his return home had the pleasure 
 of restoring the sweet child to her distressed mother ; 
 a grateful duty, nobly performed ! He also informed 
 Mrs. Brown that he had seen her son, George, and 
 tried to induce his master to part with him, but that 
 he was so much attached to the boy, he would not part 
 with him on any terms. But he assured her that he 
 would not fail, as soon as possible, to ransom her son, 
 and restore him also to her arms. 
 
 In November, 1789, Colonel M'Gillevray had ap 
 pointed to meet commissioners, to arrange terms of 
 peace, at Rock Landing, Georgia. On his departure 
 for the treaty grounds, he took Mrs. Brown and her 
 daughter, and there delivered them to her son, William, 
 who came from South Carolina, and had gone thither 
 in hopes that he might be enabled to hear something 
 of her and her long lost children. 
 
 Thus, in November, 1789, after eighteen months 
 
148 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 captivity, she was at last united with her surviving 
 children. They spent a short time in South Carolina 
 with somb relatives, and returned to Guilford, North 
 Carolina, at last restored to her friends, whom she had 
 left but two short yea*s before. But oh ! what a change 
 had taken place in her destiny since she had started 
 westward with her husband and sons and neighbors, so 
 full of life and hope ! All her captive children were 
 now restored to her arms, except George, who was 
 doomed to a still longer captivity. 
 
 Mrs. Brown had two sons, who were in the Cumber 
 land valley on the 9th of May, 1788 ; William, the 
 surveyor, and Daniel, aged twelve years, who went 
 over the land route witn some stock, to the Cumber 
 land valley. During her short stay in Guilford, her 
 benefactor, the Creek chieftain, passed through Guild- 
 ford, and sent word to Mrs. Brown that he was there. 
 She immediately went with her brother Colonel Gil- 
 lespie, Rev. Dr. Caldwell, and her son, William, and 
 with them thanked her benefactor. 
 
 In addition, her brother offered to pay Colonel M'- 
 Gillevray any sum which he might think proper to 
 demand, as the ransom of Mrs. Brown and her daughter, 
 but the generous Creek refused any compensation 
 whatever. He said he owed it to humanity and honor 
 to do as he had done, and that to receive pay for it 
 would deprive him both of the real pleasure and real 
 honor of such a deed. He assured Mrs. Brown that 
 he would not fail to use his best efforts to restore 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 141 
 
 to her her son, and she might rely upon his finding out 
 some means to accomplish so good an object. 
 
 Mrs. Brown, with the remnant of her family, again 
 turned her face westward, seeking the new home which 
 the foresight of her husband had prepared for her and 
 to which he was so boldly and so nobly conducting 
 them, when he perished, May 9th, 1788. And now 
 at last, in 1792, this devoted woman and all her sur 
 viving children but one, find themselves at their new 
 home, at the mouth of White's Creek, near Nashville. 
 About this time, her son Joseph, while travelling with 
 a small party of friends, was shot through the arm by 
 a party of savages in ambush ; a severe wound, from 
 which he did not recover for some time. 
 
 In 1792, a formidable body of Creeks, Cherokees, 
 and Shawanese, invaded Cumberland valley, attacked 
 Buchanan's Station, and were repulsed with great loss. 
 Young Joseph Brown came the next morning, with a 
 large party of friends, to the assistance of Buchanan, 
 but the Indians had retreated. Upon approaching the 
 scene of action, what was young Brown's astonishment 
 at finding his Indian brother, Kiachatalee, lying cold 
 in death upon the field, near the walls of the fort 
 against which he had so gallantly led the assault ! The 
 next year, Joseph Brown attended a treaty at Tellico, 
 in East Tennessee, where he met a nephew of Kiacha 
 talee, named Charles Butler, with whom he had been 
 well acquainted while a prisoner at Nickajack. Butler 
 gave him the Indian version of the attack on Bit 
 
150 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 chanan's Station, and also the story of Kiachataiee's 
 heroic death. He said the assault was led by Kiacha- 
 talee. That he attempted to set fire to the block-house, 
 and was actually blowing it into a flame, when he was 
 mortally wounded. He continued, after receiving his 
 mortal wound, to blow the fire, and to cheer his fol 
 lowers to the assault, calling upon them to fight like 
 brave men, and never give up till they had taken the 
 fort. The incidents connected with the attack on Bu 
 chanan's Station can be seen in Mrs. Ellett's "Women 
 of the Revolution," vol. ill., Article, Sarah Buchanan, 
 in which the Shawanese chief is represented as per 
 forming the heroic part which Kiachatalee really per 
 formed, and not he. 
 
 There are many incidents connected with frontier 
 life, such as Mrs. Brown was now living, which are of 
 every day occurrence, which would be interesting to 
 the present generation, but the length of this sheet will 
 necessarily exclude many of them. On one occasion, 
 her oldest son, William, while in pursuit of a party of 
 Indians near Nashville, was severely wounded in the 
 arm, so that almost every member of her family, her 
 self included, had been captured, wounded, or slain by 
 the hands of the Indians. 
 
 These were trials which were" hard to bear; yet 
 amidst all her troubles Mrs. Brown bore herself as an 
 humble Christian, devoutly grateful to the Giver of 
 all gcod, that he had guided her footsteps aright, in 
 the midst of so many sorrows. 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 151 
 
 In the year 1794, such had been the continued out 
 ages of the savages from the Lower Cherokee towns, 
 in conjunction with Creeks and Shawanese, upon tha 
 Cumberland settlements, that the principal pioneers 
 resolved to fit out an expedition at their own expense, 
 and march to Nickajack and Running Water, and to 
 punish these lawless people with fire and sword. The 
 national administration had, by its commissioners, made 
 treaty after treaty with the Cherokees, but still the 
 people of these lower towns continued their depreda 
 tions, against the wishes of the upper Cherokees ; but 
 it was impossible to induce the national government to 
 take those decided steps which these bold pioneers 
 knew were absolutely necessary to check the marauding 
 spirit of the lower Cherokee towns. These towns were 
 far down the Tennessee, in the midst of mountain fast 
 nesses, which the foot of hostile white man had never 
 trod. They felt secure from all aggression, and re 
 posed in full confidence that, whoever might suffer on 
 account of their incursions into Cumberland, their 
 towns were unapproachable. 
 
 At this time, young Joseph Brown was living near 
 Nashville with his mother, and had recently gone with 
 General Robertson to attend an Indian council at Tel- 
 lico clock-house. The intimate knowledge which young 
 Brown had obtained of these lower towns anl their 
 people, by his residence there, enabled him to commu 
 nicate to this thoughtful old man a good idea of the 
 country and the people from whom the Cumberland 
 
152 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 settlements had so long suffered. The death of Kia- 
 chatalee at Buchanan's Station, on the 30th of Sep 
 tember, 1792 ; his war-like character, so well known 
 to Brown, and his leadership as a warrior amongst the 
 men of Nickajack and Running Water, all pointed out 
 these towns as the hives from which came forth such 
 swarms of marauding Indians. 
 
 Despairing of succor from the national government, 
 General Robertson wrote to Colonel Whitley, of Ken 
 tucky, who was a well-known partisan, to be at Nash 
 ville, about September, 1794, with as many trusty rifle 
 men as he could bring with him. About the same time, 
 Colonel Mansco, General Johnson, of Robertson, Co 
 lonel Montgomery, of Clarksville, and General Robert 
 son, each quietly raised a few trusty men. Major Ore 
 commanded a squadron of mounted men, who were in 
 the employ of the United States as rangers, to protect 
 the frontiers of Cumberland. At the request of General 
 Robertson, Major Ore arrived at Buchanan's Station 
 just in time to join in the expedition. 
 
 In the mean time, boats were made of hides, and 
 tried in the Cumberland river, to ascertain their ca 
 pacity of transporting the troops across the Tennessee. 
 These boats were made each out of two raw hides, aa 
 large as could be got, sewed together, and each was 
 found capable of carrying about fifty guns, and one or 
 two men. They were capable of being rolled up and 
 packed on mules or horses, and could in a few momenta 
 be fully equipped and launched. 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 153 
 
 All tiftV" parties being assembled, it was ascertained 
 that there were about six hundred, including Major 
 Ore's Rangers. As all but Ore's command were volun 
 teers, who came out without any authority, it wa^ re- 
 solved to give Major Ore the nominal command of the 
 whole party, which would give color of authority to the 
 party to make the campaign, and would save them 
 from the odium of making a lawless invasion of the 
 Indian country. Colonel Whitley and Colonel Mansco 
 were, however, the prime movers of the campaign, and 
 had most of the responsibility of its conduct. But 
 with the troops were more than a dozen leading partisan 
 officers, who had been distinguished in many an Indian 
 battle. 
 
 On the 7th of September, 1794, this formidable 
 army of invasion set out for Nickajack ; and, although 
 the route had been unexplored, ,and the mountains 
 and the river lay between them and their enemies, 
 they had counted the cost, fitted out their boats, and 
 had resolved to strike a blow that would teach the 
 lawless Indians a severe lesson. 
 
 The troops made a forced march, reached the Ten 
 nessee river just after dark on the fourth day, and in 
 thirty minutes had their raw-hide boats afloat in the 
 river, ready to bear over the arms. They immediately 
 began to cross the river, landing a short distance below 
 the town of Nickajack. Most of the men swam over 
 in perfect silence, their arms and clothes being con 
 veyed in the boats, and on rafts rudely constructed of 
 
154 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 bundles of canes. In order to guide the summers, a 
 very small fire was kindled at the water's edge, by the 
 party which first crossed. Out of six hundred, only 
 two hundred and thirty could be induced to cross over ; 
 some holding back because they could not swim, and 
 others because they were subject to the cramp ; and 
 others, no doubt, reflecting upon the number of the 
 enemy, and the difficulty of a retreat when once across' 
 so wide a river, did not feel quite willing " to stand 
 the hazard of the die." But, in the face of appalling 
 dangers, some men showed a stout-heartedness which 
 might have done honor to the bravest of the brave. 
 A young man by the name of Joseph B. Porter, who 
 could not swim at all, tied an armful of dry canes to 
 gether, and, nothing daunted, plunged into the rapid 
 river, and kicked himself over in safety. Young Brown 
 although still lame in one arm, from the wound he had 
 received in the Indian ambuscade, plunged into the 
 river and swam safely over. 
 
 At daylight, there were two hundred and thirty on 
 the south bank of the Tennessee, within half a mile of 
 Nickajack, and yet they were undiscovered. 
 
 Leaving young Brown, with twenty picked men, to 
 guard the crossing of the creek, at the lower end of 
 the town, with instructions to meet them in the centre 
 of the town as soon as he heard their fire, the main 
 body lurned towards the town, and came down upon 
 it from above. 
 
 Although Nickajack contained about three hundred 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 155 
 
 warriors, they were so completely surprised that they 
 made but little resistance ; but, flying precipitately, 
 took to their canoes, and attempted to cross the river. 
 Some fled to the Running Water, and others secreted 
 themselves in the thickets. The whole town ran with 
 blood. About seventy warriors were slain, and a large 
 number of women and children taken prisoners. Young 
 Brown carried the lower end of the town manfully, 
 killing several warriors, and taking some prisoners. 
 In one instance, Brown killed an Indian warrior in a 
 a single combat, and carried away his scalp. 
 
 As soon as Nickajack was taken, a detachment was 
 Bent to destroy Running Water. On the way, the 
 Indians met them, and, after an obstinate resistance, 
 gave way, but not till they had wounded three Ame 
 ricans, one of them Joshua Thomas mortally. 
 
 Running Water was also taken, and both towns im 
 mediately reduced to ashes. 
 
 Amongst the dead, Brown recognised the body of 
 Breath, the generous chief who had adopted him into 
 his family when he was a prisoner. 
 
 In the towns, many articles of stolen property, 
 which were recognised as belonging to men who had 
 been killed in Cumberland valley, were found. In ad 
 dition to these, fresh scalps were found in Nickajack, 
 as well as a number of letters, taken by she Indians 
 from mail-bags, after having killed the rider. They 
 also found a quantity of powder and lead, recently 
 Bent by the Spanish government to these Indians. 
 
156 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Never was a visitation of this kind so justly merited 
 as it was by these towns. They were the principal 
 crossing-places for the war-parties of Creeks, Shawa- 
 nese, and Cherokees, who went to harass the Cumber 
 land settlements. But two days before their destruc 
 tion, a war-dance was held there, at which were seve 
 ral Cherokee chiefs, as well as Creeks, who had resolved 
 to wage a still more relentless war on the frontiers. 
 
 While young Brown could not but feel that the hand 
 of Providence had signally punished these towns for 
 their outrage on the 9th of May, 1788, his exultation 
 was prevented by the death of his brother-in-law, Joshua 
 Thomas, a brave soldier, and a kind, generous friend, 
 who was the only one slain by the enemy on this 
 occasion. 
 
 The prisoners recognised young Brown, and, alarmed 
 for their safety, pleaded with him to save their lives, 
 saying to him, that his life had once been spared by 
 them. Brown assured them that they were in no 
 danger ; that the white people never killed prisoners, 
 women, and children. 
 
 This blow was so unexpected and successful, that it 
 inspired the Cherokees with a sincere desire for peace, 
 which they soon after concluded, and never again vio 
 lated. Soon after this afiair, young George Brown 
 was liberated by the Creeks. 
 
 Young Brown returned home, and lived some yeara 
 with his mother. He was devoted to every relation of 
 life. He soon attached himself to Rev. Thomas B 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 157 
 
 Craighead's congregation, near Hayesboro, and was 
 made an elder in the church. 
 
 For several years, young Brown, his mother, and 
 brothers, memorialized the Congress of the United 
 States to reimburse them for the goods and slaves 
 taken from them on the 9th of May, 1788, in violation 
 of the treaty of Hopewell. But ttieir claims were still 
 unregarded and still delayed, year after year, and 
 Congress after Congress, and yet no relief. 
 
 In the year 1806, a treaty was finally concluded 
 with the Indians, which opened all the lands on Duck 
 river to the occupation of those who had located their 
 warrants there. Thus Mrs. Brown and her children 
 came into possession of a large and splendid tract of 
 land south of Columbia, to which she soon after removed 
 with her son Joseph. 
 
 During the Creek war of 1812-13, a large number 
 of Cherokee Indians offered their services to General 
 Jackson against their red brethern. General Jackson 
 immediately wrote to Joseph Brown, who had lately 
 been elected colonel by his neighbors, requesting him 
 to consent to command a regiment of Cherokee In 
 dians. This Colonel Brown promptly agreed to do, 
 and started to join the army for that purpose. Colonel 
 Brown, however, never took charge of the Indians, but 
 served with the army, as aid to General Robards. as 
 well as interpreter and guide. 
 
 Colonel Brown was thus a participant in the battle 
 of Talladega, and had the honor of leading and con- 
 
158 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 ducting a charge upon the most hotly contested part 
 of the Indian lines. During this campaign, Colonel 
 Brown again met Charles Butler, the nephew of Kia- 
 chatalee, and learned from him that the old Tuskegec 
 chief, Cutty-a-toy, was still alive. Through him, he 
 learned, that he was then living on an island in the 
 Tennessee river, near the mouth of Elle river, and that 
 he had with him several negroes, the descendants ol 
 the woman taken by him at Nickajack, on the 9th of 
 May, 1788. 
 
 Colonel Brown had, at that time, a claim before 
 Congress for the value of those negroes, but had always 
 been put off by reason of some defect in the proof as 
 to their value, or some other matter of form. He now 
 determined that, as his negroes were still in the hands 
 of the original wrong-doer, the Tuskegee chief, he 
 would get possession of them, and carry them home. 
 
 Colonel Brown stated to General Jackson the facts 
 of the case, and demanded of him, and obtained, an 
 order appointing a mixed commission of American 
 and Cherokee officers, to value the negroes of Cutty-a- 
 toy. The Cherokees had long been in peace with the 
 whites, and were now in alliance with them against the 
 Creeks ; and under such circumstances there was 
 friendly intercourse between them. 
 
 With ten picked men, Brown proceeded to the is 
 land, went to the head man's lodge, and exhibited to 
 him General Jackson's order, and demanded that 
 Cutty-a-toy's negroes be immediately sent over to Forfc 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 159 
 
 Hampton, to be valued, in pursuance of said order, 
 The head man sent for Cutty-a-toy, and it was imme 
 diately agreed that all would go to the fort the next 
 morning. 
 
 The next morning, the negroes, Cutty-a-toy and hia 
 wife, and some friends, with Colonel Brown went tc 
 the fort. In crossing the river, Colonel Brown and his 
 men took up the negroes, and Cutty-a-toy's wife be 
 hind them, to carry them over the water, while the 
 Indian men crossed on a raft higher up. 
 
 When he reached the fort he directed his men to 
 proceed with the negroes towards Ditto's landing, and 
 he turned into the fort with Cutty-a-toy's wife, to await 
 the arrival of the Indians. He immediately called on 
 the commandant of the fort, Colonel Williams, stated 
 the history of the case, and the order of General 
 Jackson, and the failure of Congress to pay for these 
 negroes, and the fact that these negroes were now in 
 his possession ; and* frankly asked him what course he 
 would pursue, under the circumstances. " Take the 
 negroes home with you," said the Colonel; "and if 
 you wish to do it, and have not men enough, I will 
 give you more." 
 
 Upon the arrival of Cutty-a-toy and his followers, 
 they were invited into the fort, and Colonel Brown 
 made known to him that he had sent the negroes off, 
 but was willing for the commissioners to proceed to 
 value them. The Indian became enraged. A t last, 
 in the midst of the garrison, officers and men, and th* 
 
IGO HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Indians, Colonel Brown gave a brief narrative of the 
 murder of his father by Cutty-a-toy's party, the murder 
 of his brothers, and the captivity of his mother, small 
 brother and sisters ; of the capture of the slaves by 
 Cutty-a-toy, and his attempt upon Colonel Brown him 
 self, then a boy at the house of the French trader . 
 and of his being saved by the intercession of the 
 trader's wife, and the Indian's desire to save the life 
 of his captive negro woman. " It is now," said Colonel 
 Brown, " nearly twenty-five years, and yet during all 
 that time you have had the negro woman and her 
 children as your slaves, and, they have worked for you ; 
 and yet you got them by the murder of my father and 
 brothers ? You made me an orphan and a beggar, 
 when, but for you, I had begun the world with the 
 smiles of a father, and the comfort of a home provided 
 by his care. For this wrong, this crime, Cutty-a-toy, 
 you deserve to die !" 
 
 Here Cutty-a-toy hung his head, and said, " It is all 
 true: do with me as you please." 
 
 The soldiers who stood around, many of them the 
 neighbors of Colonel Brown, said, " Kill him ! he ought 
 to die." But Colonel Brown was now a Christian, and 
 had long, long ceased to cherish feelings of revenge 
 agrinst the savage murderer of his father. 
 
 "No, no, Cutty-a-toy," proceeded Colonel Brown; 
 " although you deserve to die, and at my hands, yet I 
 >vill not kill you. If I did not worship the Great Spirit 
 who rules all things, I would slay you ; but vengeance 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 161 
 
 is His, and I will leave you to answer to him for your 
 crimes ! But I will not stain my hands with your 
 blood ; you are now old, and must soon go down to the 
 grave, and answer to that Great Spirit for the life 
 you have led. Live and repent." 
 
 Here Cutty-a-toy assumed a bolder front, and said, 
 by certain treaties made in 1794, this property was 
 guaranteed to him, and that he would sue Brown in 
 the Federal Courts, as some other Indians named by 
 him had done, in similar cases ; but he finally agreed, 
 if Brown would give him a young negro fellow, he 
 might take the rest, including the two women and 
 some children, which was generously done. 
 
 Thus the fortunes of war, controlled by the steady 
 perseverance of her son, at length restored to Mrs. 
 Brown a part of her long-lost property. Many years 
 afterwards, when General Jackson became President, 
 Colonel Brown finally obtained an allowance from 
 Congress for a part of the property lost by his father 
 in 1788. In 1810, Colonel Brown became a member 
 of the Cumberland Presbyterian church, and in 1832, 
 a regularly ordained minister of the church. 
 
 Having lived to the advanced age of ninety, and 
 never having re-married, but always making her home 
 with her son, Colonel Joseph Brown, Mrs. Brown 
 left this world of vexation and sorrow, for such it was 
 to her, at her son's residence, in Maury county, Ten 
 nessee. Hers was a most eventful life, full of trials, 
 almost beyond human endurance; yet he did not 
 11 
 
ID'J HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 murmur, but tried to see, in all her afflictions, the 
 kind guidance of a wise Providence. 
 
 George, soon after his release from captivity, emi 
 grated to the south, and, after nearly fifty years 
 honorable citizenship, near Woodville, Mississippi, 
 died in the bosom of his family. 
 
 The captive daughter, Jane, whose release was 
 due to the manly courage of her youthful brother, 
 was married to a Mr. Collingsworth, and became with 
 him, as early as 1819, a citizen of Texas, where her 
 descendants yet reside. 
 
 The history of the events connected with the family 
 of Mrs. Brown possesses all the attractions of a ro 
 mance ; yet it is but a plain, sad story of trials and suf 
 ferings incident to the period and the border in which 
 she passed her life. She lived to an octogenarian age 
 and yet she often wept, as she told the tale of hei 
 captivity and sufferings, and those of her children. 
 
 The only survivor of that pioneer family is the Rev. 
 Joseph Brown, of Maury county, Tennessee, better 
 known as Colonel Brown. From notes and memo 
 randa furnished by him, the principal details of this 
 narrative have been written. They cannot fail to be 
 useful to the future historian of Tennessee, yet Hey- 
 wood, in his history of 500 pages, only contains the 
 following allusion to the facts contained in this narra 
 tive. Speaking of the treaty of peace made at Tellico, 
 October 20th, 1795, between the people of Tennessee, 
 the Creeks and Cherokees, they, (the Creeks,) says 
 
CAPTIVITY OF JANE BROWN AND HER FAMILY. 163 
 
 the historian, " at this time delivered up Brown, son 
 of Mrs. Brown, formerly a prisoner in the Creek na 
 tion." p. 466. Yet how inadequate is such a notice 
 to do justice either to the sufferings of Mrs. Brown 
 and her children, or Jo the generous protection of the 
 Creek chieftain, to whom they were indebted for their 
 deliverance ! For notwithstanding, says another 
 writer-, the " obloquy which both history and tradition 
 have thrown upon the characters of the Creek and 
 Cherokee warriors, some bright gleams occasionally 
 break through, w r hich throw a melancholy lustre over 
 their memories." But a large portion of the pioneer 
 history of Tennessee has never been written. Replete 
 with incidents and heroic deeds which might challenge 
 the admiration of the world, yet all that has been 
 written by Heywood and others would scarcely answer 
 as a thread to guide the future historian through the 
 labyrinth of events which crowded upon the infant 
 colonies of the Cumberland and the Holston. 
 
HEROISM OF WOMEN AT BRYANT'S 
 STATION. 
 
 IN the summer of 1782, the Indians of Ohio re 
 solved to make a grand effort to drive the whites from 
 Kentucky. An army of six hundred men, under the 
 command of the renegade whites, Simon Girty and 
 M'Kee, was collected at Chillicothe, and early in Au 
 gust they commenced their march. With a secrecy 
 and celerity peculiar to themselves, they advanced 
 through the woods without giving the slightest indica 
 tions of their approach ; and on the night of the 14th 
 of August, they appeared before Bryant's station, as 
 suddenly as if they had risen from the earth, and sur 
 rounding it on all sides, calmly awaited the approach 
 of daylight, holding themselves in readiness to rush in 
 upon the inhabitants the moment that the gates were 
 opened in the morning. The supreme influence of 
 fortune in war, was never more strikingly displayed. 
 
 The garrison had determined to march at daylight 
 
 on the following, morning to the assistance of Hoy's 
 
 station, from which a messenger had arrived the 
 
 evening before, with the intelligence of Holder's defeat, 
 
 (164; 
 
HEROISM OP WOMEN AT BRYANT'S STATION. 165 
 
 Had the Indians arrived only a few hours later, they 
 would have found the fort occupied only by old men, 
 women and children, who could not have resisted their 
 attack for a moment. As it was, they found the garrison 
 assembled and under arms, most of them busily en 
 gaged throughout the whole night, in preparing for 
 an early march on the following morning. The In 
 dians could distinctly hear the bustle of preparation, 
 and see lights glancing from block-houses and cabins 
 during the night, which must have led them to suspect 
 that their approach had been discovered. All con 
 tinued tranquil during the night, and Girty silently 
 concerted the plan of attack. 
 
 The fort, consisting of about forty cabins placed in 
 parallel lines, stands upon a gentle rise on the south 
 ern bank of the Elkhorn, a few paces to the right of 
 the road from Maysville to Lexington. The garrison 
 was supplied with water from a spring at some distance 
 from the fort on its north-western side ; a great error, 
 common to most of the stations, which, in a close and 
 continued siege, must have suffered dreadfully for 
 want of water. 
 
 The great body of Indians placed themselves in am 
 bush within half rifle-shot of the spring, while one 
 hundred select men were placed near the spot where 
 the road now runs after passing the creek, with orders 
 to open a brisk fire and show themselves to the gar 
 rison on that side, for the purpose of driving them out, 
 while the main body held themselves in readiness to 
 
166 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 rush upon the opposite gate of the fort, hew it down 
 with their tomahawks, and force their way into the 
 midst of the cabins. At dawn of day, the garrison 
 paraded under arms, and were preparing to open their 
 gates and march off as already mentioned, when they 
 were alarmed by a furious discharge of rifles, accom 
 panied with yells and screams, which struck terror to 
 the hearts of the women and children, and startled 
 even the men. 
 
 % 
 
 All ran hastily to the picketing, and beheld a small 
 party of Indians, exposed to open view, firing, yelling, 
 and making the most furious gestures. The appearance 
 was so singular, and so different from their usual man 
 ner of fighting, that some of the more wary and ex 
 perienced of the garrison instantly pronounced it a 
 decoy party, and restrained the young men from 
 sallying out and attacking them, as some of them were 
 strongly disposed to do. The opposite side of the fort 
 was instantly manned, and several breaches in the 
 picketing rapidly repaired. Their greatest distress 
 arose from the prospect of suffering for water. The 
 more experienced of the garrison felt satisfied that 
 a powerful party was in ambuscade near the spring, 
 but at the same time they supposed that the Indiana 
 would not unmask themselves, until the firing upon 
 the opposite side of the fort was returned with such 
 warmth, as to induce the belief that the feint had 
 succeeded. 
 
 Acting upon this impression, and yielding to the 
 
HEROISM OF WOMEN AT BRYANT'S STATION. 167 
 
 
 
 urgent necessity of the case, they summoned all the 
 women, without exception, and explaining to them the 
 circumstances in which they were placed, and the 
 improbability that any injury would be offered them, 
 until the firing had been returned from the opposite 
 side of the fort, they urged them to go in a body to 
 the spring, and each to bring up a bucket full of water 
 Some of the ladies, as was natural, had no relish for 
 the undertaking, and asked why the men could not 
 bring water as well as themselves ? observing that they 
 were not bullet-proof, and that the Indians made no 
 distinction between male and female scalps ! 
 
 To this it was answered, that women were in the 
 habit of bringing water every morning to the fort, and 
 that if the Indians saw them engaged as usual, it 
 would induce them to believe that their ambuscade was 
 undiscovered, and that they would not unmask them 
 selves for the sake of firing at a few women, when they 
 hoped, by remaining concealed a few moments longer, 
 to obtain complete possession of the fort. That if 
 men should go down to the spring, the Indians would 
 immediately suspect that something was wrong, would 
 despair of succeeding by ambuscade, and would in 
 stantly rush upon them, follow them into the fort, or 
 shoot them down at the spring. The decision was soon 
 over. 
 
 A few of the boldest declared their readiness to brave 
 the danger, and the younger and more timid rallying 
 in the rear of these veterans, they all marched down 
 
168 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 in a body to the spring, within point blank shot of 
 more than five hundred Indian warriors ! Some of 
 the girls could not help betraying symptoms of terror, 
 but the married women, in general, moved with a 
 steadiness and composure, which completely deceived 
 the Indians. Not a shot was fired. The party were 
 permitted to fill their buckets, one after another, with 
 out interruption, and although their steps became 
 quicker and quicker, on their return, and when near 
 the gate of the fort, degenerated into a rather un-mi- 
 litary celerity, attended with some little crowding in 
 passing the gate, yet not more than one-fifth of the 
 water was spilled, and the eyes of the youngest had 
 not dilated to more than double their ordinary size. 
 
 The various attacks upon the fort proving unsuc 
 cessful, the Indian army at length retreated. Unfor 
 tunately, the whites followed them, with insufficient 
 forces and reckless hardihood. The disastrous battle 
 of the Blue Licks ensued. The whites were completely 
 defeated, and the Indians returned home with a large 
 cumber of scalps, 
 
MES. HELM, THE HEKOINE OF 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 THE massacre of Chicago was one of the most ter 
 rible of the events which occurred in the early part 
 of the war of 1812. A fort had heen erected upon 
 the site of the present city of Chicago, as early as 
 1803. Around the fort Several families had clustered, 
 built cabins, and began to cultivate the ground. 
 When the war broke out, the garrison of the fort con 
 sisted of fifty men, commanded by Captain Heald. 
 As it was remote from the other American posts, and 
 the neighboring country was occupied by the Potta- 
 watomie Indians, whose adherence to the United 
 States was more than doubtful, the garrison should 
 have been withdrawn or strengthened. When it was 
 too late, General Hull ordered the evacuation of the 
 post. 
 
 On the 7th of August, (1812,) in the afternoon, 
 Winnemeg, or Catfish, a friendly Indian of the Potta- 
 watomie tribe, arrived at Chicago, and brought dis 
 patches from general Hull, containing the first, and at 
 
 (169) 
 
170 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 that time, the only intelligence, of the declaration of 
 war. General Hull's letter announced the capture of 
 Mackinaw, and directed Heald " to evacuate the fort 
 at Chicago, if practicable, and in that event, to distri 
 bute all of the United States property contained in the 
 factory, or agency, among the Indians in the neigh 
 borhood, and repair to Fort Wayne." Winnemeg 
 having delivered his dispatches to Captain Heald, and, 
 as he was acquainted with the purport of the com 
 munication he had brought, urged upon Captain Heald 
 the policy of remaining in the fort, being supplied, as 
 they were, with ammunition and provisions for a con 
 siderable time. In case, however, Captain Heald 
 thought proper to evacuate the place, he urged upon 
 him the propriety of doing so immediately, before the 
 Pottawatomies (through whose country they must pass 
 and who were as yet ignorant of the object of his mis 
 sion,) could collect a force sufficient to oppose them. 
 This advice, though given in great earnestness, was 
 not sufficiently regarded by Captain Heald ; who ob 
 served, that he should evacuate the fort, but having 
 received orders to distribute the public property among 
 the Indians, he did not feel justified in leaving it, until 
 he had collected the Pottawatomies in its vicinity, and 
 made an equitable distribution among them. Winne 
 meg then suggested the expediency of marching out, 
 and leaving every thing standing ; " while the Indians," 
 said he, " are dividing the spoils, the troops will be 
 able to retreat without molestation." This advice was 
 
MRS. HELM, THE HEROINE OF CHICAGO. 171 
 
 also unheeded ; an order for evacuating the fort wa? 
 read next morning on parade. Captain Heald, in is 
 suing it, had neglected to consult his junior officers, 
 as it would have been natural for him to do in such an 
 emergency, and as he would have done, had there not 
 been some coolness between him and Ensign Roman. 
 The lieutenant and ensign, after the promulgation of 
 this order, waited on Captain Heald to learn his inten 
 tions ; and being apprised, for the first time, of the 
 course he intended to pursue, they remonstrated 
 against it. " We do not," said they to Captain Heald, 
 " believe that our troops can pass in safety through 
 the country of the Pottawatomies, to Fort Wayne. 
 Although a part of their chiefs were opposed to an 
 attack upon us last summer, they were actuated by 
 motives of private friendship for some particular indi 
 viduals, and not from a regard to the Americans in 
 general ; and it can hardly be supposed that, in the 
 present excited state of feeling among the Indians, 
 those chiefs will be able to influence the whole tribe, 
 now thirsting for vengeance. Besides," said they, " our 
 march must be slow, on account of the women and 
 children. Our force, too, is small. Some of our sol 
 diers are superannuated, and some of them are invalids. 
 We think, therefore, as your orders are discretionary, 
 that we had better fortify ourselves as strongly as pos 
 sible, and remain where we are. Succor may reach 
 us before we shall be attacked from Mackinaw : and, 
 in case of such an event, we had better fall into the 
 
172 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 hands of the English, than become victims of the 
 savages." Captain Heald replied, that his force waa 
 inadequate to contend with the Indians, and that he 
 should be censured were he to continue in garrison, 
 when the prospect of a safe retreat to Fort Wayne was 
 so apparent. He therefore deemed it advisable to as 
 semble the Indians, and distribute the public property 
 among them, and ask of them an escort thither, with 
 the promise of a considerable sum of money to be paid 
 on their safe arrival ; adding, that he had perfect con 
 fidence in the friendly professions of the Indians, from 
 whom, as well as from the soldiers, the capture of 
 Mackinaw had studiously been concealed. 
 
 From this time forward, the junior officers stood 
 aloof from their commander, and, considering his pro 
 ject as little short of madness, conversed as little upon 
 the subject as possible. Dissatisfaction, however, soon 
 filled the camp ; the soldiers began to murmur, and 
 insubordination assumed a threatening aspect. 
 
 The savages, in the meantime, became more and 
 more troublesome ; entered the fort occasionally, in 
 defiance of the sentinels, and even made their way 
 without ceremony into the quarters of its commanding 
 officer. On one occasion an Indian, taking up a rifle, 
 fired it in the parlor of Captain Heald. Some were 
 of opinion that this was intended as the signal for an 
 attack. The old chiefs at this time passed back and 
 forth among the assembled groups, apparently agitated 
 and the squaws seemed much excited, as though some 
 
MRS. HELM, THE HEROINE OF CHICAGO. 173 
 
 terrible calamity was impending. No further mani 
 festations, however, of ill feeling were exhibited, and 
 the day passed without bloodshed. So infatuated, at 
 this time, was Captain Heald, that he supposed he had 
 wrought a favorable impression upon the savages, and 
 that the little garrison could now march forth in safety. 
 
 From the 8th to the 12th of August, the hostility 
 of the Indians was more and more apparent ; and the 
 feelings of the garrison, and of those connected with, 
 and dependent upon it for their safety, more and more 
 intense. Distrust every where at length prevailed, and 
 the want of unanimity among the officers, was appalling. 
 Every inmate retired to rest, expecting to be aroused 
 by the war-whoop ; and each returning day was re 
 garded by all as another step on the road to massacre. 
 
 The Indians from the adjacent villages having at 
 length arrived, a council was held on the 12th of Au 
 gust. It was attended, however, only by Captain 
 Heald on the part of the military ; the other officers 
 refused to attend, having previously learned that a 
 massacre was intended. This fact was communicated 
 to Captain Heald ; he insisted, however, on their 
 going, and they resolutely persisted in their refusal. 
 When Captain Heald left the fort, they repaired to 
 the block-house, which overlooked the ground where 
 the council was in session, and opening the port-holes, 
 pointed their cannon in its direction. This circum 
 stance, and their absence, it is supposed, saved the 
 whites from massacre. 
 
174 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Captain Heald informed the Indians in council, that 
 he would, next day, distribute among them all the 
 goods in the United States factory, together with the 
 ammunition and provisions with which the garrison 
 was supplied ; and desired of them an escort to Fort 
 Wayne, promising them a reward on their arrival 
 thither, in addition to the presents they were about to 
 receive. The savages assented, with professions of 
 friendship, to all he proposed, and promised all he re 
 quired. The council was no sooner dismissed, than 
 several, observing the tone of feeling which prevailed, 
 and anticipating from it no good to the garrison, waited 
 on Captain Heald, in order to open his eyes if possible, 
 to their condition. 
 
 The impolicy of furnishing the Indians with arms 
 and ammunition, to be used against themselves, struck 
 Captain Heald with so much force, that he resolved, 
 without consulting his officers, to destroy all not re 
 quired for immediate use. 
 
 On the next day, (August 13th,) the goods in the 
 factory were all distributed among the Indians, who 
 had collected near the fort ; and in the evening, the 
 ammunition, and also the liquor belonging to the gar 
 rison, were carried, the former into the sally-port and 
 thrown into the well, and the latter through the south 
 gate, as silently as possible, to the river bank, where 
 the heads of the barrels were knocked in, and their 
 contents discharged into the stream. 
 
 The Indians, however, suspecting the game, ap- 
 
MRS. HELM, tHB HEROINE OP CHICAGO. 175 
 
 preached as near as possible, and witnessed the whole 
 scene. The spare muskets were broken up, and thrown 
 into the well, together with bags of shot, flints, and 
 gun-screws, and other' things ; all, however, of but 
 little value. 
 
 On the 14th, the despondency of the garrison was 
 for a time dispelled by the arrival of Captain "Wells, 
 and fifteen friendly Miamies. Having heard at Fort 
 Wayne of the order to evacuate Chicago, and knowing 
 the hostile intentions of the Pottawatomies, he hastened 
 thither, in order to save, if possible, the little garrison 
 from its doom. He was the brother cf Mrs. Heald, 
 and having been reared from childhood among the 
 savages, knew their character ; and some thing whis 
 pered him, " that all was not well." 
 
 This intrepid warrior of the woods, hearing tLat his 
 friends at Chicago were in danger, and chagrined at 
 the obstinacy of Captain Heald, who was thus hazard 
 ing their safety, came thither to save his friends cr 
 participate in their fate. He arrived, however, too laoe 
 to effect the former but just in time to effect the latter. 
 Having, on his arrival, learned the ammunition had 
 been destroyed, and the provisions distributed among 
 the Indians, he saw no alternative. Preparations T?ere 
 therefore made for marching on the morrow. 
 
 In the afternoon, a second council was held with 
 the Indians, at which they expressed their resentment 
 at the destruction of the ammunition and liquor, in the 
 severest terms. Notwithstanding the precautions which 
 
176 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 had been observed, the knocking in of the heads of 
 the whiskey barrels had been heard by the Indians, 
 and the river next morning tasted, as some of them 
 expressed it, "like strong grog." Murmurs and 
 threats were every where heard ; and nothing, appa 
 rently, was wanting but an opportunity for some 
 public manifestation of their resentment. 
 
 Among the chiefs, there were several who partici 
 pated in the general hostility of their tribe, and re 
 tained, at the same time, a regard for the few white 
 inhabitants of the place. It was impossible, however, 
 even for them to allay the savage feeling of the war 
 riors, when provocation after provocation had thus 
 been given ; and their exertions, therefore, were 
 futile. 
 
 Among this class was Black Partridge, a chief of 
 some renown. Soon after the council had adjourned, 
 this magnanimous warrior returned to the head-quar 
 ters of Captain Heald, and, taking off a medal he had 
 long worn, said, " Father I have come to deliver up 
 to you the medal I wear. It was given me by your 
 countrymen, and I have long worn it as a token of 
 our friendship. Our young men are resolved to im 
 brue their hands in the blood of the whites. I cannot 
 restrain them, and will not wear a token of peace when 
 compelled to act as an enemy." 
 
 Had doubts previously existed, they were now at 
 %n end. The devoted garrison continued, however, 
 their preparations as before ; and, amid the surround- 
 
MRS. LELM, THE HEROINE OF CHICAGO. 177 
 
 ing gloom, a few gallant spirits still cheered their 
 companions with hopes of security. 
 
 The ammunition reserved, twenty-five rounds to 
 each soldier, was now distributed. The baggage wagons 
 designed for the sick, the women, and the children, 
 containing also a box of cartridges, were now made 
 ready, and the whole party, anticipating a fatiguing, 
 if not a disastrous march, on the morrow, retired to 
 enjoy a few moments precarious repose. 
 
 The morning of the 15th dawned as usual. The 
 sun rose with uncommon splendor, and Lake Michigan 
 "was a sheet of burnished gold." Early in the day 
 a message was received in the American camp, from 
 To-pee-na-bee, a chief of the St. Joseph's band, in 
 forming them that mischief was brewing among the 
 Pottawatomies, who had promised them protection. 
 
 About nine o'clock the troops left the fort with 
 martial music, and in military array. Captain Wells, 
 at the head of the Miamies, led the van, his face black 
 ened after the manner of the Indians. The garrison, 
 with loaded arms, followed, and the wagons with the 
 baggage, the women and children, the sick, and the 
 lame, closed the rear. The Pottawatomies, about five 
 hundred in number, who had promised to escort them 
 in safety to Fort Wayne, leaving a little space, after 
 wards followed. The party in advance took the beach 
 road. They had no sooner arrived at the sand-hills, 
 which separate the prairie from the beach, about a mile 
 and a half from the fort, when the Pottawatomies, in 
 12 
 
178 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 stead of continuing in rear of the Americans, left the 
 beach and took to the prairie. The sand-hills of course 
 intervened and presented a barrier between the Potta- 
 watomies, and the American and Miami line of march. 
 This divergence had scarcely been effected, when Cap 
 tain Wells, who, with the Miamies, was considerably 
 in advance, rode back, and exclaimed : " They are 
 about to attack us ; form instantly and charge upon 
 them." The word had scarcely been uttered, before 
 a volley of musketry from behind the sand-hills was 
 poured in upon them. The troops were brought im 
 mediately into a line, and charged upon the bank. 
 One man, a veteran of seventy, fell as they ascended. 
 The battle at once became general. The Miamies fled 
 in the outset ; their chief rode up to the Pottawatomies, 
 charged them with duplicity, and brandishing his to 
 mahawk, said, " he would be the first to head a party 
 of Americans, and return to punish them for their 
 treachery." He then turned his horse and galloped 
 off in pursuit of his companions, who were then scour 
 ing across the prairie, and nothing was seen or heard 
 of them more.* 
 
 While the battle was raging some incidents oc 
 curred, which displayed the calm courage and com 
 plete presence of mind of Mrs. Helm, the wife of 
 Lieutenant Helm. That lady was in the action, where 
 death was threatened on every hand. Doctor Voor- 
 hies, the surgeon, being badly wounded, approached 
 
 * Brown's History of Illinois, 
 
MRS. HELM, THE HEROINE OF CHICAGO. 179 
 
 Mrs, Helm, and said, "Do you think they will take 
 our lives ? I am badly wounded, but I think not mor 
 tally. Perhaps we can purchase safety by offering a 
 large reward. Do you think," continued he, " there 
 is any chance ?" " Docter Voorhes," replied Mrs. 
 Helm, " Let us not waste the few moments which yet 
 remain, in idle or ill-founded hopes. Our fate is in 
 evitable. We must soon appear at the bar of God. 
 Let us make such preparations as are yet in our 
 power." "Oh !" said he, "I cannot die. I am unfit 
 to die ! If I had a short time to prepare ! Death ! 
 oh, how awful!" 
 
 At this moment, Ensign Roman was fighting at a 
 little distance, with a tall and portly Indian ; the former, 
 mortally wounded, was nearly down, and struggling 
 desperately upon one knee. Mrs. Helm, pointing her 
 finger, and directing the attention of Doctor Voorhes 
 thither, observed : " Look," said she, " at that young 
 man, he dies like a soldier." 
 
 "Yes," said Doctor Voorhes, "but he has np terrors 
 of the future ; he is an unbeliever." 
 
 A young savage immediately raised his tomahawk 
 to strike Mrs. Helm. She sprang instantly aside, and 
 the blow intended for her head fell upon her shoulder. 
 She thereupon seized him around his neck, and while 
 exerting all her efforts to get possession of his scalp- 
 ing-knife, was seized by another Indian, and dragged, 
 forcibly from his grasp. 
 
 The latter bore her, struggling and resisting, towards 
 
180 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 the lake. Notwithstanding, however, the rapidity 
 with which she was hurried along, she recognised, as 
 she passed, the remains of the unfortunate surgeon, 
 stretched lifeless on the prairie. 
 
 She was plunged immediately into the water, and 
 held there, notwithstanding her resistance, with a for 
 cible hand. She shortly, however, perceived that the 
 intention of her captor was not to drown her, as he 
 held her in a position to keep her head above the water. 
 Thus reassured, she looked at him attentively, and, in 
 spite of his disguise, recognised the "white man's 
 friend," Black Partridge. 
 
 When the firing had ceased, her preserver bore her 
 from the water and conducted her up the sand-bank. 
 It was a beautiful day in August. The heat, however, 
 of the sun was oppressive ; and walking through the 
 sand, exposed to its burning rays, in her drenched 
 condition; weary, and exhausted by efforts beyond 
 her strength ; anxious, beyond measure, to learn the 
 fate of her friends, and alarmed for her own, her 
 situation was one of agony. 
 
 The troops having fought with desperation till two- 
 thirds of their number were slain, the remainder twenty- 
 seven in all, borne down by an overwhelming force, 
 and exhausted by efforts hitherto unequalled, at length 
 surrendered. They stipulated, however, for their own 
 safety and of their remaining women and children. The 
 wounded prisoners, however, in the hurry of the mo 
 ment were unfortunately omitted, or rather not par- 
 
MRS. HELM, THE HEROINE OF CHICAGO. 181 
 
 ticularly maintained, and were therefore regarded by 
 the Indians as having been excluded. 
 
 One of the soldiers' wives, having frequently been 
 told that prisoners taken by the Indians were sub 
 jected to tortures worse than death, had from the first 
 expressed a resolution never to be taken ; and when a 
 party of savages approached to make her their prisoner, 
 she fought with desperation, and though assured of 
 kind treatment and protection, refused to surrender, 
 and was literally cut in pieces, and her mangled remains 
 left on the field. 
 
 After the surrender, one of the baggage wagon, 
 containing twelve children, was assailed by a single 
 savage, and the whole number were massacred. All, 
 without distinction of age or sex, fell at once beneath 
 his murderous tomahawk. 
 
 Captain Wells, who had as yet escaped unharmed, 
 saw from a distance the whole of this murderous scene, 
 and being apprised of the stipulation, and on seeing it 
 thus violated, exclaimed aloud, so as to be heard by the 
 Pottawatomies around him, whose prisoner he then was ; 
 "If this be your game, I will kill too !" and turning 
 his horse's head, instantly started for the Pottawatomy 
 camp, where the squaws and Indian children had been 
 left before the battle began. 
 
 He had no sooner started, than several of the Indians 
 followed in his rear and discharged their rifles at him, 
 as he galloped across the prairie. He laid himself flat 
 on the neck of his horse, and was apparently out of 
 
182 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 their reach, when the ball of one of his pursuers took 
 effect, killing his horse and wounding him severely. 
 He was again a prisoner as the savages came up, 
 Winnemeg and Wa-ban-see, two of their number, and 
 both his friends, used all their endeavors in order to 
 save him ; they had disengaged him already from his 
 horse, and were supporting him along, when Pee-so- 
 tum, a Pottawatomy Indian, drawing his scalping-knife, 
 stabbed him in the back, and thus inflicted a mortal 
 wound. After struggling for a moment, he fell, and 
 breathed his last in the arms of his friends, a victim 
 for those he had sought to save. 
 
 The battle having ended, and the prisoners being 
 secured, the latter were conducted to the Pottawatomy 
 camp near the fort. Here the wife of Wau-bee-nee- 
 mah, an Illinois chief, perceiving the exhausted con 
 dition of Mrs. Helm, took a kettle, and dipping up 
 some water from the stream, which flowed sluggishly 
 by them, threw into it some maple sugar, and stirring 
 it up with her hand, gave her to drink. "It was," 
 says Mrs. Helm, " the most delicious draught I had 
 ever taken, and her kindness of manner, amid so much 
 atrocity, touched my heart." Her attention, however, 
 was soon directed to other objects. The fort, after the 
 troops had marched out, became a scene of plunder. 
 The cattle were shot down as they ran at large, and 
 lay dead, or were dying around her. 
 
 Most of the wounded prisoners were butchered. 
 The un-wounded remained in the wigwams of their 
 
MRS. HELM, THE HEROINE OF CHICAGO. 183 
 
 captors. ' The work of plunder being complete, the 
 fort next day was set on fire. Captain and Mrs. 
 Heald, after being exposed to many dangers, were 
 taken to Detroit, where they were finally exchanged. 
 Lieutenant Helm was wounded in the action, and 
 made prisoner. He was afterwards taken by some 
 friendly Indians to the Au Sable, and thence to St. 
 Louis, where he was liberated from captivity through 
 the intervention of an Indian trader, named Forsyth. 
 Mrs. Helm, who suffered from a severe wound in the 
 ankle, was taken to Detroit, where she was exchanged. 
 She lived for many years after her thrilling adventures, 
 and was a highly respected lady. 
 
MES. PIJBSLEY. 
 
 THE instances of women voluntarily encountering 
 danger, that men shrink from in the greatest dread, 
 are so rare, that every one should be carefully re 
 corded. Mrs. Purley, the heroine of the following 
 sketch, was a woman who only needed a wider field 
 to become as celebrated as Joan of Arc. She must 
 be considered preeminent, even in the west that 
 region so fertile in daring spirits, and iron nerves. 
 
 During the war of 1812, a fort was erected about 
 twenty miles from Yandalia, to protect the frontier 
 settlements from the Indians. Lieutenant Journay 
 and twelve men were assigned for its garrison. On 
 the 30th of August, 1814, Indians were discovered 
 near the fort. The next morning, before dawn, the 
 lieutenant sallied out with his whole force. The party 
 had not proceeded far, before a large body of Indians 
 rose from an ambush, and fired a destructive volley. 
 The commander and three of his men were killed, and 
 one wounded. Six returned in safety to the fort, 
 where Mrs. Pursley had in the meantime remained 
 (184) 
 
MRS. PURSLEY. 185 
 
 alone. One indomitable borderer, named Thomas 
 Higgins, lingered outside of the fort to have " one 
 more pull at the enemy." His horse had been shot, 
 and he had dismounted, thinking the animal had been 
 mortally wounded. He discovered his error, but in 
 stead of remounting, and making a rapid retreat, 
 sought the shelter of a tree, and resolved to avenge 
 the death of his comrades. 
 
 The Indians caught sight of Higgins before he 
 could reach a tree sufficiently large to protect his 
 body, and were advancing to attack him, when he 
 turned and deliberately shot the foremost savage. 
 Somewhat concealed by the smoke, the brave ranger 
 then re-loaded his rifle, mounted his horse, and was 
 about to ride away, when a voice exclaimed, 
 
 "Tom, you won't leave me, will you?" 
 
 Higgins turned immediately around, and seeing a 
 fellow-soldier by the name of Burgess lying on the 
 ground, wounded and gasping for breath, replied : " No 
 I'll not leave you come along." 
 
 " I can't come," said Burgess ; " my leg is all smashed 
 to pieces." 
 
 Higgins dismounted, and taking up his friend, whose 
 ankle had been broken, was about to lift him on his 
 horse, when the horse taking fright, darted off in an 
 instant, and left Higgins and his friend behind. 
 
 "This is too bad," said Higgins; u but don't fear; 
 you hop off on your three legs, and I'll stay behind 
 between you and the Indians, anri keep them off. Get 
 
186 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 into the tallest grass, and crawl as near the ground as 
 possible." Burgess did so, and escaped. 
 
 The smoke, which had hitherto concealed Higgins, 
 now cleared away, and he resolved, if possible, to re 
 treat. To follow the track of Burgess was most ex 
 pedient. It would, however, endanger his friend. 
 
 He determined, therefore, to venture boldly forward, 
 arid, if discovered, to secure his own safety by the ra 
 pidity of Ms flight. On leaving a small thicket, in 
 which he had sought refuge, he discovered a tall, portly 
 savage near by, and two others in a direction between 
 him and the fort. He paused for a moment, and thought 
 if he could seperate and fight them singly, his case 
 was not so desperate. 
 
 He then started for a little run of water which was 
 near, but found one of his limbs failing him it having 
 been struck by a ball in the first encounter, of which, 
 till now, he was scarcely conscious. 
 
 The largest Indian pressed close upon him, and 
 Higgins turned round two or three times in order to 
 fire. The Indian halted and danced about to prevent 
 his taking aim. Higgins saw it was unsafe to fire at 
 random, and perceiving two others approaching, knew 
 he must be overpowered in a moment, unless he could 
 dispose of the forward Indian first. He resolved, 
 therefore, to halt and receive his fire. The Indian 
 raised his rifle ; and Higgins, watching his eye, turned 
 suddenly, as his finger pressed the trigger, and received 
 the ball in his thigh. 
 
MRS. PURSLEY. 187 
 
 Higgins fell, but rose immediately, and ran. The 
 foremost Indian, now certain of his prey, loaded again, 
 and with the other two, pressed on. They overtook 
 him Higgins fell again, and as he rose, the whole 
 three fired, and he received all their balls. He now 
 fell and rose again ; and the Indians, throwing away 
 their guns, advanced upon him with spears and knives. 
 As he presented his gun at one or the other, each fell 
 back. At last, the largest Indian, supposing Higgins's 
 gun to be empty, from his fire having been thus re 
 served, advanced boldly to the charge. Higgins fired, 
 and the savage fell. 
 
 He had now four bullets in his body an empty gun 
 in his hand two Indians unharmed, as yet, before 
 him and a whole tribe but a few yards distant. Any 
 other man but Higgins would have despaired. But he 
 had no notion of surrendering yet. He had slain the 
 most dangerous of the three ; and having but little to 
 fear from the others, began to load his rifle. They raised 
 a savage whoop, and rushed to the encounter ; keeping 
 at a respectful distance when Higgin's rifle was loaded, 
 but when they knew it was empty, " they were better 
 soldiers." 
 
 A bloody conflict now ensued. The Indians stabbed 
 him in several places. Their spears, however, were 
 but thin poles, hastily prepared for the occasion, and 
 bent whenever they struck a rib or muscle. The wounds 
 they made were not, therefore, deep, though numerous, 
 as his scars sufficiently testified. 
 
188 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 At last one of them threw his tomahawk. It struck 
 him upon the cheek, passed, through his ear, which it 
 severed, laid bare his skull to the back of his head; 
 and stretched him upon the prairie. The Indians again 
 rushed on ; but Higgins, recovering his self-possession, 
 kept them off with his feet and hands. Grasping at 
 length one of their spears, the Indian, in attempting 
 to pull it from him, raised Higgins up ; who, taking 
 up his rifle, smote the nearest savage, and dashed out 
 his brains. In doing so, however, his rifle broke 
 the barrel only remaining in his hand. 
 
 The other Indian, who had hitherto fought with 
 caution, came now manfully into the battle. His cha 
 racter as a warrior was in jeopardy. To have fled from 
 a man thus wounded and disarmed, or to have suffered 
 his victim to escape, would have tarnished his fame 
 for ever. 
 
 Uttering, therefore, a terrific yell, he rushed on, and 
 attempted to stab the exhausted ranger ; but the latter 
 warded off his blow with one hand, and brandished 
 his rifle-barrel with the other. 
 
 The Indian was as yet unharmed, and under ex 
 isting circumstances, by far the most powerful man. 
 Jliggins's courage, however, was unexhausted. The 
 savage, at last, began to retreat from the glare of his 
 untamed eye, to the spot where he dropped his rifle. 
 Higgins knew that if he recovered that, his own case 
 was desperate; throwing, therefore, his rifle barrel 
 aside, and drawing his hunting-knife, he rushed upon 
 
MRS. PURSLEY. 189 
 
 his foe. A desperate strife ensued deep gashes were 
 inflicted on both sides. Higgins, fatigued, and ex 
 hausted by the loss of blood, was no longer a match 
 for the savage. The latter succeeded in throwing his 
 adversary from him, and went immediately in pursuit 
 of his rifle. "Higgins, at the same time, rose and sought 
 for the gun of the other Indian. Both, therefore, 
 bleeding and out of breath, were in search of arms to 
 renew the combat. A party of Indians were in sight. 
 The smoke had now cleared, and a party of Indians 
 were coming up. Nothing, it seemed, could save the 
 gallant ranger. The little garrison had witnessed 
 the whole combat. Mrs. Pursley urged, with much 
 vehemence, that some of the men should attempt to 
 rescue their- brave comrade. To the rangers it seemed 
 too much like rushing in the face of death. They 
 shrank from the task and were deaf to all Mrs. Pur- 
 sley's entreaties, as well as taunts. The heroic woman 
 was not to be turned from a noble purpose. Finding 
 that the men would not stir from the fort, she seized 
 a rifle, and declaring that " so fine a fellow as Tom 
 Higgins should not be lost for want of help," mounted 
 horse and rode forth to the rescue. The men were 
 thereby shamed into action. To be outdone by a 
 woman was too great a degradation. They followed 
 Mrs. Pursley at full gallop, reached the spot where 
 Higgins fainted and fell, before the Indians came up ; 
 and while the savage with whom he had been con- 
 tending was looking for his rifle, the wounded ranger 
 
190 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 was raised upon a horse and carried safely into the 
 fort. 
 
 Higgins continued insensible for several days, but 
 his life was saved by constant care and attendance. 
 To the brave woman who preserved him from death, 
 after his own desperate and astonishing efforts had 
 ceased to avail him, he was ever profoundly grateful. 
 Mrs. Pursley deserved a monument, but it is only of 
 late years that justice has been so far awarded to her 
 memory as to record her noble deed. 
 
MARY HART. 
 
 THE following narrative is copied from the New 
 York Knickerbocker. It was derived from an officer 
 of General Wellborji's corps, who was in battle with 
 the Creek Indians, as below narrated, and an .eye 
 witness of the remarkable events here recorded. The 
 whole affords but another proof, that truth is indeed 
 often stronger than fiction. 
 
 The Creek war of 1836-37 was a most barbarous 
 one, and continued nearly two years. The Creek 
 population comprehended in the treaty for emigration 
 westward, was about twenty-two thousand souls, about 
 two thousand of whom, warriors, broke the treaty, 
 and commenced hostilities in May, 1836, by an attack 
 on the town of Roanoke, in the night, butchering its 
 inhabitants, putting them to flight, and pillaging and 
 setting fire to their habitations. The terrors of an 
 affrighted population, once exposed to Indian barba 
 rities, can hardly be conceived. Rumor follows quick 
 upon the heels of rumor ; yet no story can exceed the 
 horrors of Indian warfare, as it is impossible for Ian 
 
 (191) 
 
192 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 guage adequately to depict its realities. It is stated 
 of a man in flight with his family from a supposed pur 
 suit of Indians in this war, that having got fresh in 
 telligence of alarm by the less hasty flight of others 
 who had overtaken him, he took up his boy from be 
 hind his wagon, tossed him in, and ran forward to 
 whif> up his team, when lo ! at the place of stopping, 
 he found that the violence of his action to save his 
 son had killed him by breaking his neck ! 
 
 When General Jessup had reported the Creek war 
 at an end, and drawn off his troops into Florida, to 
 act against the Seminoles, contrary to the remon 
 strances of the inhabitants of the state of Ala 
 bama who assured him that the Indians were not all 
 subdued, but that some hundreds were still lurking in 
 their hiding-places the war broke out afresh, with 
 increased barbarity ; and the Governor of Alabama, 
 the Hon. Clement C. Clay, was forced to act with 
 great vigor in mustering fresh troops for the exigency, 
 by enlisting the citizens of the state into the service 
 of the United States. General William Wellborn re 
 ceived the command, and acquitted himself with great 
 valor and honor, to the end of the war. 
 
 Sometime in the winter of 1836-37, General Well 
 born heard of an encampment of Indians on the banks 
 of the Pee river, near its confluence with Pee creek, 
 between the forks. With a company of two hundred 
 mounted men, he set off in search of the foe. Having 
 discovered and reconnoitred their position, from the 
 
MARY HART. 193 
 
 west bank of the Pee, without being observed, he left 
 one hundred and twenty of his troops on the higher 
 grounds, about half a mile from the river, at a point 
 by which the Indians must retreat, if dislodged, with 
 instructions to cut them off whenever they should be 
 driven in upon them. With the remainder, ninety 
 men, he descended the river a few miles, and crossed 
 on a bridge, below the confluence of the two streams, 
 with the view to come round and attack the Indians 
 by surprise. Having made his way across Pee creek, 
 he found the access greatly impeded by low and wet 
 grounds, it being a time of high water, and several 
 lagoons, or channels, running from one river to the 
 other, and at this time flooded ; canebrakes and pal 
 metto thickets were to be broken through, and various 
 obstacles, peculiar to that wild retreat, interposed. 
 Nevertheless, the bravery and determination of the 
 troops surmounted all impediments, and they arrived 
 at last on the bank of a lagoon, on the other side of 
 which was the Indian encampment, themselves screened 
 from observation by a grove of palmettoes, and by 
 favorable grounds. 
 
 At this moment a firing was heard in the direction 
 of the place were the one hundred and twenty troops 
 had been left, and it was manifest, as none but women 
 and children were to be seen on the opposite bank of 
 the lagoon, that the Indians had discovered the whites 
 on the west side of the Pee, and had themselves be 
 come the assailants. This was the more painful to 
 13 
 
194 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 observe, as the firing grew rapidly more distant, an 
 indication that the Indians were victorious and in 
 pursuit. 
 
 General Wellborn instantly conceived the project, 
 as retreat was impossible, of placing his men in line 
 as near the bank of the lagoon as he could, for a des 
 perate onset on the return of the Indians ; and having 
 given his orders, he retired to an eminence about a 
 quarter of a mile, and showed himself to the women, 
 who instantly raised tjie cry of " Esta-Hadka ! Esta- 
 Hadka!" "White man! White man ! "pointing 
 to General Wellborn, on the distant eminence. This 
 alarm was rapidly conveyed by runners to the Indians 
 now engaged on the other side of the Pee, and as soon 
 as possible, some three hundred warriors or more came 
 lushing back, flushed with victory, and full of ven 
 geance. They seemed to know that they had routed 
 the largest body of their opponents, and were eager 
 to find the remainder. It was a critical moment when 
 they stood upon the open ground, within gun-shot of 
 General Wellborn's men, on the other bank of the 
 lagoon, demanding of the women where they had seen 
 the white man. The Indians knew that the lagoon was 
 fordable, but their opponents did not. At the moment 
 they were about to rush in, and at a given signal, a 
 well-directed fire was pored in upon them from the 
 whole line, and they fell back, with a shout of terroi 
 and discomfiture, into a pine wood, about forty roda 
 distant, leaving a number of their dead upon the field. 
 
MARY HART. 195 
 
 It was evident that the fire told well, but no lesa 
 certain that the foe would soon rally, and return with 
 confidence of victory. They knew there was no es 
 cape for the white man, and that they had driven 
 from the field his strongest force. Violent speeches 
 of the chiefs and warriors were heard and understood. 
 In about forty minutes, a hideous yell of onset rang 
 through the forest, and the entire array of the Indian 
 force leaped upon the bank of the lagoon, to cross and 
 drive their assailants by closer fight. At that moment 
 they received a second time the whole fire of General 
 Wellborn's men from behind the palmettoes, halted, 
 staggered, and again fell back into the woods, leaving 
 the ground strewed with their slain. Again the rally 
 ing speeches were heard, and General Wellborn saw 
 that he and his men must transfer the action to the 
 other bank, or perish before a superior force. Believing 
 from the demonstrations of the Indians, that the lagoon 
 was fordable, he ordered two men, at different points, 
 to make the attempt, and if they succeeded, the whole 
 corps were to plunge in, form upon the opposite bank, 
 and rush upon the foe. 
 
 It was but the work of a moment, and every man 
 was in line. The conflict was desperate and bloody. 
 Women fought and fell with the men. A single white 
 man encounted a warrior and two of his wives, all three 
 of whom were laid dead at his feet, by a necessity 
 which he could not avoid, in self-preservation. The 
 Indians fled across a bridge of trees, which they had 
 
I9o HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 thrown over the Pee, fighting and falling in their re 
 treat; and all that could were soon out of the battle, 
 leaving behind them camp and spoils, the wounded, 
 the dying, and the dead. Seventy-three warriors, 
 averaging six feet and two inches in height, were 
 counted among the slain. 
 
 An old chief, Apothlo-Oholo, who afterward es 
 caped in the night, being entirely disabled by the shot 
 he had received in various parts of his body, fell into 
 the river, as he was attempting to cross the bridge of 
 trees. He clung to the branches, and buried himself 
 entirely under water, while the victors were crossing 
 and re-crossing during and after the action. 
 
 He lived to recover of his wounds, joined his party, 
 and afterwards made the following speech to General 
 Wellborn, at Conchatto-Mecco's Town, when about to 
 emigrate with his people : 
 
 "You are a Great Chief. I have fought you as 
 long as I could. You have beaten me. You have 
 killed and taken nearly all my people. I am now 
 ready to go : the farther from you the better. We 
 cannot be friends. I thank you for taking care of 
 my women, children, and wounded warriors, and for 
 sending them back to me. You are a Great Chief!" 
 
 In the sleeve of the coat of Apothlo-Oholo, after 
 the battle, were found twenty-eight hundred dollars 
 in gold ; and many spoils that had been taken from 
 murdered white families, or pillaged from their de- 
 Bertea homes, were recovered. A roll of bank notcu 
 
MART HART. 197 
 
 was also found. Most of the Indian ponies were left 
 behind, and the whole of the next day was consumed 
 in making arrangements for a vigorous pursuit of the 
 routed Indians. Nine of the ninety engaged in this 
 attack were killed. The bodies of the Indians, were 
 left without burial. The exasperated troops, them 
 selves citizens of a commonwealth doomed to the hor^ 
 rible atrocities of an Indian war, with their families 
 exposed, many of whom had already suffered, must 
 stand as an apology for not paying to a fallen enemy 
 the usual respect of civilized warfare. It was a scene 
 of carnage, left to the face of the sun, and to the eyes 
 of the stars. 
 
 On the morning of the third day, a pursuit of the 
 retreating foe was ordered, the trail of which led 
 them down the Pee, to the plantation of two brothers, 
 Josiah and Robert Hart, about forty miles below the 
 battle-ground. As they approached these settlements, 
 it needed no prophet's ken to anticipate the fate of 
 these unhappy families. The Indians, still counting less 
 than two hundred warriors, came upon them the second 
 night. 
 
 Josiah Hart had a wife, a son, and two daughters, 
 the youngest of whom, Mary, was nine years of age. 
 The family of Robert Hart, living about a mile from 
 his brother, consisted of himself, two sons, a married 
 daughter, and son-in-law. The log cabin of Robert, 
 as is usual, in that country, was built in two separate 
 parts with an open space or court between, over which 
 17* 
 
198 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 the roof of the building extended, the door of each 
 part being in the middle of this court, opposite to each 
 other. Aware of the da'ngers to which he was exposed, 
 Mr. Hart had " Chinked" the logs, before open, and 
 admitting of being fired through by the musketry or 
 rifles of an enemy, leaving here and there a port-hole, 
 through which the tenants might be able to repulse 
 assailants. He was also provided with nine pieces of 
 fire-arms, rifles, double-barrel and others, kept con 
 stantly charged, and ready for a sudden emergency. 
 In one of these buildings, the whole family slept by 
 their arms and ammunition, while the watch dog kept 
 his post without. 
 
 At the mid-hour of this fatal night, they were sud 
 denly awakened by the earnest barking of the dog, 
 and the simultaneous yells of the Indians. The dog 
 was soon silenced by the rifles of the savages ; and the 
 subsequent stillness without, except when interrupted 
 by the occasional light tread or sudden bound of the 
 wily foe around the house, reconnoitring, in prepara 
 tion for the execution of his purpose, was fearful, 
 Having failed in their usual stratagem of driving out 
 the tenants of the house in affright, by the yells of the 
 onset, in an opposite direction, where they would be 
 sure to fall into the hands of a party in ambush, they 
 sought opportunity to make an attack through the 
 crevices of the logs which composed the walls of the 
 building. Not succeeding in this, for the reason before 
 mentioned, and not venturing yet to enter the court, 
 
MARY HART. 199 
 
 ror fear of a fire from within, which had not yet opened 
 upon them, their next device was, to kindle a fire undei 
 the side of the dwelling, by which, if successful, they 
 were sure of their prey. This, however, they could 
 not well do in the dark, without becoming marks for 
 an unseen hand. Accordingly, the first attempt proved 
 fatal to those engaged in it, and two or three Indians 
 fell before the sure aim of the rifle from within the 
 walls. Hour after hour, in painful suspense passed 
 away, with now and then a shot from either party, to 
 little or to no purpose, except that a chance ball from 
 an Indian rifle, found its way between the logs, and 
 wounded Mr. Hart's daughter in the arm. Not daring 
 to strike a light, they endeavored as well as they could, 
 to bind it up, and to staunch the blood. At length a 
 lurid light cast upon the clouds, discovered to Mr. Hart 
 his brother's house in flames, and a yell of triumph 
 broke from the horde of savages by whom he and his 
 children were environed, secure, though less successful 
 hitherto, in accomplishing the same object. The flames 
 rose higher, and threw upon his besieged habitation a 
 flood of light, that compelled the besiegers to retire 
 behind the out-houses for protection, as they would 
 otherwise be exposed to the fire of Mr. Hart and his 
 sons. 
 
 Day dawned at last, and a desultory fire was com 
 menced,- as chance invited, and as an Indian head was 
 exposed to view. Several of the Indians fell. Exas 
 perated by these failures, they resolved to set the house 
 
SOC HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 on fire at any hazard. They collected combustibles, 
 chose their position, and rushed with fire and kindling- 
 wood under the stick chimney of the house, where, as 
 it happened the rifles from within could not be brought 
 to bear. The smoke was soon felt in the house, and 
 not a moment was to be lost. Despair finds weapons ; 
 and by the concert of an instant, a bold device was 
 projected, to strike the frail chimney-back on the heads 
 of the Indians, and by a sudden sortie, drive them 
 from the field, to purchase to themselves an opportu 
 nity of escape to the fort, about seven miles distant. 
 Tt was done. Three or four Indians were killed, and 
 the rest fled. In some two hours after, Mr. Hart and 
 his children were all safely lodged in the fort, hav 
 ing left their house to pillage and flames, to which it 
 was doomed in the course of the morning, so soon as 
 the Indians had mustered a stronger force, and re 
 turned to renew the attack. Plunder was all they 
 bad to enjoy. 
 
 About thirty-six hours after the Indians had quitted 
 the plantation of the Harts, which they had left a 
 scene of ruin and of carnage, and descended the river, 
 little dreaming of being pursued by the party whoso 
 Dower they had felt two days before, General Wellborn 
 and his men came in sight of the smoking ruins of 
 Josiah Hart's habitation and out-houses. Not a living 
 creature moved before their eyes, and every aspect 
 was that of desolation. From a party in advance, so 
 soon as they approached the ruins, a cry of horror 
 
MARY HART. 201 
 
 and vengeance arose, which broke the awful silence 
 of the place ; and each one, as he came near, was 
 petrified at the spectacle which was presented. 
 
 In the yard, a few rods from the house, lay the 
 mangled and naked bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Hart, 
 their son and eldest daughter ; and a little removed 
 from them, the body of Mary, also naked, with her 
 skull broken in apparently by a pine-knot, which lay 
 by her side, covered with hair and blood. She was 
 lying upon her side, her person stabbed in several 
 places, from head to foot; and the blood of each 
 wound extending in unbroken coagulation to the 
 ground, which had drunk the crimson streams. The 
 sight of Mary was not so fearful as that of the rest of 
 family, though sufficiently shocking. It was evident, 
 that she had never struggled or moved, from the mo 
 ment she was left in that position, thirty-six hours 
 before. With the exception of her wounds, her 
 appearance was that of an innocent, marble repose. 
 
 The mutilated and mangled condition of the other 
 members of the family was too horrible to be recorded. 
 Mr. Hart had been pierced with many balls ; Mrs. 
 Hart with less ; each had been shot, and all were 
 covered and disfigured with ghastly wounds. The 
 spectacle filled the men with absolute madness. They 
 raved, stamped, ran to and fro, struck the trees and 
 stones with their clenched hands, until the blood fol 
 lowed from their blows, without seeming to feel the 
 wounds they had inflicted on themselves ; and they 
 
202 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 cried, "Vengeance! vengeance! vengeance!" till 
 all the region rang with it, and loud enough to awake 
 the sleeping dead. 
 
 And it did awake the dead ! Surrounded at this 
 moment by a throng of these exasperated beholders, 
 who were looking upon her innocent countenance, and 
 raising those fearful cries, but not having yet pre 
 sumed to touch this relic of mortality, little Mary 
 Hart opened her eyes, turned up her face, and said, 
 audibly and distinctly, " How they did beat us !" and 
 then closed her eyes, and turned back, clasped again 
 in the same silent and death-like repose ! 
 
 The moment was awful, and the feeling of the spec 
 tators entirely changed. The innocent victim was 
 carefully approached, tenderly lifted up, her wounds 
 bathed, and the proper surgical applications applied. 
 On examination, it was found that life was not ex 
 tinct ; but she was so literally drained of her blood, 
 that no symptom of reviving animation could be 
 awakened. She was wrapped in a blanket, and care 
 fully carrie I on horseback, in the arms of General 
 Wellborn, t :> the fort, with little more sign of life than 
 when first taken from the ground, and was committed 
 to the charge of her uncle and his family, whose 
 escape has already been narrated. 
 
 The troops started off in hot pursuit of the flying 
 foe, and after two days' march, overtook them in 
 Florida. Thirty-nine of them were slain in the en 
 gagement that ensued; many prisoners were taken, 
 
MARY HART. 203 
 
 with the booty from the pillaged houses of the Harts ; 
 and the rest took flight to the town of Canchatto- 
 Mecco, were they surrendered for emigration, and the 
 Creek war was ended. 
 
 Mary Hart, by means of tender nursing, and the 
 restoring powers of nature, gradually recovered. The 
 indenture in the skull proved not to be a fracture, 
 and she is now as well as if the massacre had never 
 happened. 
 
A YOUNG HEKOINE. 
 
 IN September, 1840, a small party of. Indians ap 
 peared in Washington county, Florida, and killed the 
 wife of Mr. Wiley Jones, and two of his children. This 
 gave occasion to a remarkable display of heroism in a 
 very young girl. The affair is narrated as follows in 
 the Tallahassee Floridian. 
 
 Mr. Jones, on returning from one of his fields, about 
 ten o'clock in the morning, and when within two hun 
 dred yards of the house, heard four or five rifles fired 
 in his yard, he ran for the house, and on rising the 
 hill, found the house surrounded by Indians, and 
 eight or ten in the piazza. The Indians discovered 
 him at that moment, and pursued him, firing and 
 whooping at him like devils. Being entirely unarmed, 
 Tfithout even a knife to defend himself, he fled, and 
 escaped in the hammock. 
 
 Mr. Jones's daughter, a girl of about thirteen years 
 
 of age, states that her mother, a negro woman, and 
 
 four children were in the house when the Indians were 
 
 discovered in the yard. Mrs. Jones caught up the 
 
 (204) 
 
A YOUNG HEROINE. 205 
 
 youngest child, and was shot in attempting to escape 
 out of the door, struck by three balls, one passing 
 through the head of the child in her arms. 
 
 The daughter above mentioned took the two children, 
 and, while the Indians were ransacking and plunder 
 ing the house, passed out unmolested, and hid them 
 in the bushes. The little heroine then returned to 
 the house, in the midst of the Indians, helped her 
 mother up, who was lying in the porch, and assisted 
 her about three hundred yards into the field, when 
 becoming faint from the loss of blood, the little girl 
 left her in search of water. She returned with it, but 
 her mother, after drinking, died in a few moments. 
 She then covered her mother and the dead infant with 
 bushes, and carried the remaining children to the 
 nearest neighbor. The Indians destroyed all tha 
 furniture and stole about three hundred dollars. 
 
MRS. DAVIESS. 
 
 DAVIESS is a name written boldly in the heroic annals 
 f the west. Noble men and women chiefly the 
 children of Kentucky have contributed brave and 
 generous deeds to render it brilliant and undying. The 
 Mrs. Daviess, whose heroic acts we are now about to 
 record, was a glorious example to her sex. Firm, cool, 
 and fertile of resource in the hour of peril, and gentle 
 and amiable by the peaceful fireside. 
 
 In the fall of the year 1779, Samuel Daviess, who 
 resided in Bedford county, Virginia, moved with his 
 family to Kentucky, and lived for a time, at Whitley's 
 station, in Lincoln. After residing for some time in 
 the station, he removed with his family to a place called 
 Gilmer's Lick, some six or seven miles distant from 
 said station, where he built a cabin, cleared some land, 
 which he put in corn next season, not apprehending 
 any danger from the Indians, although he was con 
 sidered a frontier settler. But this imaginary state of 
 security did not last long; for on a morning in the 
 month of August, in the year 1782, having stepped a 
 (206) 
 
MRS. DAVIESS. 207 
 
 few paces from his door, he was suddenly surprised by 
 an Indian's appearing between him and the door, witt 
 tomahawk uplifted, almost within striking distance. 
 In this unexpected condition, and being entirely un 
 armed, his first thought was, that by running round 
 the house, he could enter the door in safety, but to his 
 surprise, in attempting to effect this object, as he ap 
 proached the door he found the house full of Indians. 
 Being closely pursued by the Indian first mentioned, 
 he made his way into the cornfield, where he concealed 
 himself, with much difficulty, until the pursuing Indian 
 had returned to the house. 
 
 Unable as he was to render any relief to his family 
 (there being five Indians,) he ran with the utmost speed 
 to the station of his brother James Daviess a distance 
 of five miles. As he approached the station his un 
 dressed condition told the tale of his distresses, before 
 he was able to tell it himself. Almost breathless, and 
 with a faltering voice, he could only say, his wife and 
 children were in the hands of the Indians. Scarcely 
 was the communication made when he obtained a sparo 
 gun, and the five men in the station, well armed, fol 
 lowed him to his residence. When they arrived at his 
 house, the Indians, as well as the family, were found 
 to be gone, and no evidence appeared that any of the 
 family had been killed. A search was made to find 
 the direction th 3 Indians had taken , but owing to the 
 dryness cf the ground, and tne adroit manner in which 
 they had departed, no discovery could be made ! In 
 
208 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 this state of perplexity, the party being all good woods 
 men, took that direction in pursuit of the Indians, 
 which they thought it most probable, they would take. 
 After going a few miles, their attention was arrested 
 by the howling of a dog, which afterwards turned out 
 to be a house-dog that had followed the family, and 
 which the Indians had undertaken to kill, so as to 
 avoid detection, which might 1 happen from his occa 
 sionally barking. In attempting to kill the dog, he 
 was only wounded, which produced the howling that 
 was heard, and satisfied them that they were near the 
 Indians, and enabled them to rush forward with the ut 
 most impetuosity. Two of the Indians being in the 
 rear as spies, discovering the approach of the party, 
 ran forward to where the Indians were with the family- 
 one of them knocked down the oldest boy, about eleven 
 years old, and while in the act of scalping him, was 
 fired at, but without effect. Mrs. Davies, seeing the 
 agitation and alarm of the Indians, saved herself and 
 sucking child, by jumping into a sink hole. The In 
 dians did not stand to make fight, but fled in the most 
 precipitate manner. In that way the family was res 
 cued by nine o'clock in the morning, without the loss 
 of a single life, and without any injury but that above 
 mentioned. Soon as the boy had risen on his feet, 
 the first word he spoke was, " Curse that Indian he 
 has got my scalp." After the family had been rescued, 
 Mrs. Daviess gave the following account of the manner 
 in which the Indians had acted. 
 
MRS. DAVIES. 209 
 
 A few minutes after her husband had opened the 
 door and stepped out of the house, four Indians rushed 
 in, whilst the fifth, as she afterwards learned, WdS in 
 pursuit of her husband. Herself and children were in 
 bed when the Indians entered the house. One of the 
 Indians immediately made signs, by which she under- 
 derstood him to inquire how far it was to the next 
 house. With an unusual presence of mind, knowing 
 how important it would be to make the distance as far 
 as possible, she raised both her hands, first counting 
 the fingers of one hand, then the other making a 
 distance of eight miles. The Indian then signed tc 
 her that she must rise ; she immediately got up, and 
 as soon as she could dress herself, commenced showing 
 the Indians one article of clothing after another, which 
 pleased them very much ; and in that way, delayed 
 them at the house nearly two hours. In the mean time, 
 the Indian who had been in pursuit of her husband, 
 returned with his hands stained with poke berries, which 
 he held up, and with some violent gestures, and waving 
 of his tomahawk, attempted to induce the belief, that 
 the stain on his hands was the blood of her husband, 
 and that he had killed him. She was enabled at once 
 to discover the deception, and instead of producing any 
 alarm on her part, she was satisfied that her husband 
 had escaped uninjured. 
 
 After the savages had plundered the house of every 
 thing that they could conveniently carry off with them, 
 they started, taking Mrs. Daviess and her children 
 14 
 
210 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 seven in number, as prisoners along with them. Some 
 of the children were too young to travel as fast as the 
 Indians wished, and discovering, as she believed, their 
 intention to kill such of them as could not conveniently 
 travel, she made the two oldest boys carry them on 
 their backs. The Indians, in starting from the house, 
 were very careful to leave no signs of the direction 
 which they had taken, not even permitting the children 
 to break a twig or weed, as they passed along. They 
 had not gone far, before an Indian drew a knife and 
 cut off a few inches of Mrs. Daviess's dress, so that 
 she would not be interrupted in travelling. 
 
 Mrs. Daviess was a woman of cool, deliberate courage, 
 and accustomed to handle the gun so that she could 
 shoot well, as many of the women were in the habit 
 of doing in those days. She had contemplated, as a 
 last resort, that if not rescued in the course of the 
 day, when night came and the Indians had fallen asleep, 
 she would rescue herself and children by killing as 
 many of the Indians as she could thinking in a night 
 attack as many of them as remained, would most pro 
 bably run off. Such an attempt would now seem a 
 species of madness ; but to those who were acquainted 
 with Mrs. Daviess, little doubt was entertained, that if 
 the attempt had been made, it would have proved 
 successful. 
 
 The boy who had been scalped, was greatly disfigured, 
 as the hair never after grew upon that part of his head. 
 He often wished for an" opportunity to avenge himself 
 
MRS. DAVIESS. 211 
 
 upon the Indians for the injury he received. Unfor 
 tunately for himself, ten years afterwards, the Indians 
 came to the neighborhood of his father and stole a 
 number of horses. Himself and a party of men went 
 in pursuit of them, and after following them for some 
 days, the Indians finding that they were likely to bo 
 overtaken, placed themselves in ambush, an<J when 
 their pursuers came up, killed young Daviess and one 
 other man ; so that he untimely fell into their hands 
 when about twenty-one years old. The next year 
 after the father died ; his death being caused, as it 
 was supposed, by the extraordinary efforts he made 
 to release his family from the Indians. We cannot 
 close this account, without noticing an act of courage 
 displayed by Mrs. Daviess, calculated to exhibit her 
 character in its true point of view. 
 
 Kentucky, in its early days, like most new countries, 
 was occasionally troubled with men of abandoned cha 
 racter, who lived by stealing the property of others, 
 and after committing their depredations, retired to their 
 hiding places, thereby eluding the operation of the law. 
 One of these marauders, a man of desperate character, 
 who had committed extensive thefts from Mr. Daviess, 
 as well as from his neighbors, was pursued by Daviess 
 and a party whose property he had taken, in order to 
 bring him to justice. While the party were in pursuit, 
 the suspected individual, not knowing any one was pur 
 suing him, came to the house of Daviess, armed with 
 his gun and tomahawk no person being at home but 
 
212 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Mrs. Daviess and her children. Aftpr he had stepped 
 into the house, Mrs. Daviess asked him if he would 
 drink something and having set a bottle of whiskey 
 upon the table, requested him to help himself. The fel 
 low not suspecting any danger, set his gun by the door, 
 and, while he was drinking, Mrs. Daviess picked up 
 his gun, and placed herself in the door, had the gun 
 cocked and levelled upon him by the time he turned 
 around, and in a peremptory manner ordered him to 
 take a seat, or she would shoot him. Struck with 
 terror and alarm, he asked what he had done. She 
 told him, he had stolen her husband's property, and 
 that she intended to take care of him herself. In that 
 condition, she held him a prisoner, until the party of 
 men returned and took him into their possession. 
 
 Such deeds procured for Mrs. Daviess a high repu 
 tation for courage and determination, among the bold 
 spirits of the frontier, although they were accustomed 
 to expect such qualities in the men and women of that 
 region. All deemed her an extraordinary woman ; 
 and when wives and daughters displayed timidity at 
 approaching danger, they were stimulated to daring 
 efforts by being reminded of what Mrs. Daviess had 
 performed. 
 
MAET CHASE. 
 
 RUXTON, in his inimitable " Life in the Far West, 
 gives a thrilling account of an attack upon a family 
 named Chase, who were crossing the prairies. He 
 has changed the name to Brand, but the incidents are 
 narrated as they actually happened. The courage and 
 devotion of Mary Chase, the Mary Brand of the story, 
 cannot be too much extolled. The narrative is as 
 follows : 
 
 One fine sunny evening in April of 1847, when the 
 cotton woods on the banks of the Arkansas began to 
 put forth their buds, and robins and blue-birds har 
 bingers of spring were hopping, with gaudy plumage, 
 through the thickets, three white-tilted Conostoga 
 wagons emerged from the timbered bottom of the river, 
 and rumbled slowly over the prairie, in the direction 
 of the Platte's waters. Each wagon was drawn by 
 eight oxen, and contained a portion of the farming im 
 plements and household utensils of the Brand family. 
 The teams were driven by the young boys, the men 
 following in rear with shouldered rifles old Brand 
 
 (213) 
 
214 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 himself mounted on an Indian horse, leading the ad 
 vance. The women were safely housed under the wagon 
 tilts, and out of the first the mild face of Mary Brand 
 smiled adieu to many of her old companions, who had 
 accompanied them thus far, and now wished them 
 " God-speed" on their long journey. Some moun 
 taineers galloped up, dressed in buckskin, and gave 
 them rough greeting warning the men to keep their 
 "eyes skinned," and look out for the Araphos, who 
 were out on the waters of the Platte. Presently all 
 retired, and then the huge wagons and the little com 
 pany were rolling on their solitary way through the 
 deserted prairies passing the first of the many thou 
 sand miles which lay between them and the " setting 
 sun," as the Indians style the distant regions of the 
 Far West. And on, without casting a look behind 
 him, doggedly and boldly marched old Brand, followed 
 by his sturdy family. 
 
 They made but a few miles that evening, for the 
 first day the start is all that is effected ; and nearly 
 the whole morning is taken up in getting fairly under 
 weigh. The loose stock had been sent off earlier; for 
 they had been collected and corralled the previous 
 night ; and, after a twelve hours' fast, it was necessary 
 they should reach the end of the day's journey betimes, 
 They found the herd grazing in the bottom of the Ar 
 kansas, at a point previously fixed upon for their first 
 camp. Here the oxen were unyoked, and the wagons 
 drawn up so as to form the three sides of a small square 
 
MAKY CHASE. 215 
 
 The women descended from their seats, and prepared 
 the evening meal. A huge fire was kindled before the 
 wagons, and round this the whole party collected; 
 while large kettles of coffee boiled on it, and hoe-cakes 
 baked upon the embers. 
 
 The women were sadly down-hearted, as well they 
 might be, with the dreary prospect before them ; and 
 poor Mary, when she saw the Mormon encampment 
 shut out from her sight by the rolling bluffs, and no 
 thing before her but the bleak, barren prairie, could 
 not divest herself of the idea that she had looked for 
 the last time on civilized fellow-creatures, and fairly 
 burst into tears. 
 
 In the morning the heavy wagons rolled on again 
 across the upland prairies, to strike the trail used by 
 the traders in passing from the south fork of the Platte 
 to the Arkansas. They had for guide a Canadian 
 voyageur, who had been in the service of the Indian 
 traders, and knew the route well, and had agreed to 
 pilot them to Fort Lancaster on the north fork of the 
 Platte. Their course led for about thirty miles up the 
 Boiling Spring River, whence they pursued a north 
 easterly course to the dividing ridge which separates 
 the waters of the Platte and Arkansas. Their progress 
 was slow, for the ground was saturated with wet, and 
 exceedingly heavy for the cattle, and they scarcely 
 advanced more than ten miles a day. 
 
 At the camp fire at night, Antoine, the Canadian 
 guide amused them with tales of the wild life and peri- 
 
216 HEROIC WOMEN 0? THE WEST. 
 
 lous adventures of the hunters and trappers who make 
 the mountains their home ; often extorting a scream 
 from the women by the description of some scene of 
 Indian fight and slaughter, or beguiling them of a 
 commiserating tear by the narrative of the sufferings 
 and privations endured by those hardy hunters in their 
 arduous life. 
 
 Mary listened with the greater interest, since she 
 remembered that such was the life which had been led 
 by one very dear to her by one, long supposed to be 
 dead, of whom she had never but once, since his de 
 parture, nearly fifteen years before, heard a syllable. 
 Her imagination pictured him as the bravest and most 
 daring of these adventurous hunters, and conjured up 
 his figure charging through the midst of whooping 
 savages, or stretched on the ground perishing from 
 wounds, or cold, or famine. 
 
 Among the characters who figured in Antoine's 
 stories, a hunter named La Bonte was made conspi 
 cuous for deeds of hardiness and daring. The first 
 mention of the name caused the blood to rush to Mary's 
 face : not that she for a moment imagined it was her 
 La Bonte, for she knew the name was a common one ; 
 but, associated with feelings which she had never got 
 the better of, it recalled a sad epoch in her former life, 
 to which she could not look back without mingled pain 
 and pleasure. 
 
 Once only, and about two years after his departure, 
 had she <?ver received tidings of her former lover. A 
 
MARY CHASE. 217 
 
 mountaineer had returned from the Far West to settle 
 in his native state, and had found his way to" the 
 neighborhood of old Brand's farm. Meeting him by 
 accident, Mary, hearing him speak of the mountain 
 hunters, had inquired tremblingly, after La Bonte. 
 Her informant knew him well had trapped in com 
 pany with him and had heard at the trading fort, 
 whence he had taken his departure for the settlements, 
 that La Bonte had been killed on the Yellow Stone 
 by Blackfeet ; which report was confirmed by some 
 Indians of that nation. This was all she had ever 
 learned of the lover of her youth. 
 
 Now upon hearing the name of La Bonte so often 
 mentioned by Antoine, a vague hope was raised in her 
 breast that he was still alive, and she took an oppor 
 tunity of questioning the Canadian closely on the 
 subject. 
 
 " Who was this La Bonte, Antoine, who you say 
 was so brave a mountaineer?" she asked one day. 
 
 " J'ne sais pas ; he vas un beau garden, and strong 
 comme le diable enfant de garce, mais he pas not 
 care a dam for les sauvages, pe gar. He shoot de 
 centare avec his carabine ; and ride de cheval comme 
 one Comanche. He trap heap castor (what you call 
 beevare,) and get plenty dollare mais he open hand 
 vare wide and got none too. Den, he hont vid de 
 Blackfeet and avec de Cheyenne, and all round de 
 montaignes he hont dam sight." 
 
 " But, Antoine, what became of him at last ? and 
 
218 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 why did he not come home, when he made so many 
 dollars ?" asked poor Mary. 
 
 " Enfant de garce, mais pourquoi he come home ? 
 Pe gar, de montaigne-man, he love the montaigne and 
 prairie more better dan he love de grandes villes 
 meme de Saint Louis ou de Montreal. Wagh ! La 
 Bonte, well, he one montaigne-man, wagh ! He love 
 de buffaloe and de chevreaux plus que de boeuf arid de 
 mouton, may be. Mais on-dit dat he have autre 
 raison dat de gal he lofe in Missouri not lofe him, and 
 for dis he not go back. Mais now he go ondare, 
 m' on dit. He vas go to de Californe, may be to steal 
 de hos and de mule pe gar, and de Espagnols rub 
 him out, and take his hair, so he mort." 
 
 "But are you sure of this ?" she asked, trembling 
 with grief. 
 
 " Ah, now, j'ne suis pas sur, mais I tink you know 
 dis La Bonte. Enfant de garce, maybe you de gal 
 in Missouri he lofe, and not lofe him. Pe gar ! 'fant 
 de garce ! fort beau gargon dis La Bonte, pourquoi 
 you ne 1'aimez pas ? Maybe he not gone ondar. May 
 be he turn op, autrefois. De trappares, dey go ondar 
 tree, four, ten times, mais dey turn op twenty time 
 De sauvage not able for kill La Bonte, ni de dam 
 Espagnols. Ah, non ! ne craignez pas ; pe gar. he 
 not gone ondare encore." 
 
 Spite of the good-natured attempts of the Canadian, 
 poor Mary burst into a flood of tears ; not that the 
 information took her unawares, for she had long be- 
 
MARY CHASE. 219 
 
 lieved him dead ; but because the very mention of 
 his name awoke the strongest feelings within her breast, 
 and taught her how deep was the affection she had felt 
 for him whose loss and violent fate she now bewailed. 
 
 As the wagons of the lone caravan roll on towards 
 the Platte, we return to the camp where La Bonte, 
 Killbuck, and the stranger, were sitting before the 
 fire when last we saw them : Killbuck loquitur. 
 
 " The doins of them Mormon fools can't be beat by 
 Spaniards, stranger. Their mummums and thummums 
 you speak of won't ' shine' whar Injuns are about ; 
 nor pint out a trail, whar nothin crossed but rattle 
 snakes since fust it snow'd on old Pikg's Peak. If 
 they pack along them profits, as you tell of, who can 
 make it rain hump-ribs and marrow-guts when the 
 crowd gets out of the buffler range, they are ' some,' 
 now, that's a fact. But this child don't believe it. 
 I'd laugh to get a sight of these darned Mormonites, 
 I would. They're ' no account,' I guess ; and it's the 
 * meanest' kind of action to haul their women crittera 
 and their young 'uns to sech a starving country as the 
 Calif ornys." 
 
 u They are not all Mormons in the crowd," said the 
 strange hunter ; " and there's one family among them 
 with some smartish boys and girls, I tell you. Their 
 name's Brand." 
 
 La Bonte looked up from the lock of his rifle, which 
 he was cleaning but either didn't hear, or, hearing, 
 didn't heed, for he continued his work. 
 
220 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 " And they are going to part company," continued 
 the stranger, " and put out alone for Platte and the 
 South Pass." 
 
 "They'll lose their hair, I'm thinking," said Kill- 
 buck, " if the Rapahos are out thar." 
 
 "I hope not," continued the other, "for there's a 
 girl among them worth more than that." 
 
 "Poor beaver!" said La Bonte, looking up from 
 his work. " I'd hate to see any white gal in the hands 
 of Injuns, and of Rapahos worse than all where does 
 she come from, stranger?" 
 
 " Down below St. Louis, from Tennessee, I'Ve heard 
 them say." 
 
 "Tennessee," cried La Bonte "hurrah for the 
 old State ! What's her name, stran " At this mo 
 ment Killbuck's old mule pricked her ears and snuffed 
 the air, which action catching La Bonte's eye, he 
 rose abruptly, without waiting a reply to his question, 
 and exclaimed, " The old mule smells Injuns, or I'm 
 a Spaniard !" 
 
 The hunter did the old mule justice, and she well 
 maintained her reputation as the best "guard," in the 
 mountain ; for in two minutes an Indian stalked into 
 the camp, dressed in a cloth capote, and in odds and 
 ends of civjlized attire. 
 
 " Rapaho," cried Killbuck, as soon as he saw him ; 
 and the Indian catching the word, struck his hand upon 
 his breast, and exclaimed, in broken Spanish and En 
 glish mixed, " Si, si, me Arapaho, white man amigo. 
 
MARY CHASE. 221 
 
 Come from Pueblo hunt cibola me gun break no 
 puedo matar nada : mucha hambre (very hungry) 
 heap eat." 
 
 Killbuck offered his pipe to the Indian, and spoke to 
 him in his own language, which both he and La Bonte 
 well understood. They learned that he was married 
 to a Mexican woman, and lived with some hunters at 
 the Pueblo fort on the Arkansas. He volunteered the 
 information that a war party of his people were out on 
 the Platte trail to intercept the Indian traders on their 
 return from the North Fork ; and as some " Mormons" 
 had just started in that direction, he said his people 
 would make a "raise." Being muy amigo himself to 
 the whites, he cautioned his present companions from 
 crossing to the "divide," as the "braves," he said, 
 were a " heap" mad, and their hearts were " big," and 
 nothing in the shape of white skin would live before 
 them. 
 
 " Wagh !" exclaimed Killbuck, " the Rapahos know 
 me, I'm thinking ; and small gain they've made against 
 this child. I've knowed the time when my gun-corer 
 could'nt hold more of their scalps." 
 
 The Indian was provided with some powder, of which 
 he stood in need ; and, after gorging as much meat as 
 his capacious stomach would hold, he left the camp, 
 and started into the mountain. 
 
 The next day our hunters started on their journey 
 down the river, travelling leisurely, and stopping when 
 ever good grass presented itself. One morning they 
 
HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 suddenly struck a wheel trail, which left the creeli 
 banks and pursued a course at right angles to it, in the 
 direction of the " divide." Killbuck pronounced it 
 but a few hours old, and that of three wagons drawn 
 by oxen. 
 
 l "YVagh !" he exclaimed, "if them poor devils of 
 Mormonites ain't going head first into the Rapaho trap, 
 they'll be 'gone beaver' afore long." 
 
 " Ay," said the strange hunter, " these are the 
 wagons belonging to old Brand, and he has started 
 alone for Laramie. I hope nothing will happen to 
 them." 
 
 "Brand!" muttered La Bonte. "I knowed that 
 name mighty well once, years ago : and should hate 
 the worst kind that mischief happened to any one who 
 bore it. This trail's as fresh as paint ; and it goes 
 against me to let these simple critters help the Ra- 
 pahos to their own hair. This child feels like help 
 ing 'em out of the scrape. What do you say, old hos?" 
 
 " I thinks with you, boy," answered Killbuck, " and 
 go in for following this wagon trail, and telling the 
 poor critters that thar's danger ahead of them. What's 
 your talk, stranger ?" 
 
 " I go with you," shortly answered the latter ; and 
 both followed after La Bonte, who was already trotting 
 smartly on the trail. 
 
 Mean while the three wagons, containing the house 
 hold goods of the Brand family, rumbled slowly ovei 
 the rolling prairie, and toward the upland ridge of the 
 
MARY CHASE. 223 
 
 " divide," which, studded with dwarf pine and cedar 
 thicket, rose gradually before them. They travelled 
 with considerable caution, for already the quick eye 
 of Antoine had discovered recent Indian sign upon the 
 trail, and, with mountain quickness, had at once made 
 it out to be that of a war party ; for there were no 
 horses with them, and after one or two of the mocca 
 sin tracks, the mark of a rope which trailed upon the 
 ground was sufficent to show him that the Indians were 
 provided with the usual lasso of skin, with which to 
 secure the horses stolen in the expedition. The men 
 of the party were consequently all mounted and tho 
 roughly armed, the wagons moved in a line abreast, 
 and a sharp look-out was kept on all sides. The women 
 and children were all consigned to the interior of the 
 wagons ; and the latter had also guns in readiness, to 
 take their part in the defence, should an attack be 
 made. 
 
 However, they had seen no Indians, and no fresh 
 sign, for two days after they had left the Boiling Spring 
 River, and they began to think they were well out of 
 their neighborhood. One evening they camped on a 
 creek called Black Horse, and, as usual, had corralled 
 the wagons, and forted as well as circumstances would 
 permit, when three or four Indians suddenly appeared 
 on a bluff at a little distance, and, making signals of 
 peaceable intentions, approached the camp. Most of 
 the men were absent at the time, attending to the 
 cattle or collecting fuel, and only old Brand and one 
 
224 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 of his young grandchildren, about fourteen years old, 
 remained in camp. The Indians were hospitably re 
 ceived, and regaled with a smoke, after which they 
 began to evince their curiosity by examining every ar 
 ticle lying about, and signifying their wishes that it 
 should be given to them. Finding their hints were 
 not taken, they laid hold of several things which took 
 their fancies, and, among others, of the pot which was 
 boiling on the fire, and with which one of them was 
 about very coolly to walk off, when old Brand, who up 
 to this moment had retained possession of his temper, 
 seized it out of the Indian's hand, and knocked him 
 down. One of the others instantly began to draw the 
 buckskin cover from his gun, and would no doubt have 
 taken summary vengeance for the insult offered to his 
 companion, when Mary Brand courageously stepped 
 up to him, and, placing her left hand upon the gun 
 which he was in the act of uncovering, with the other 
 pointed a pistol at his breast. 
 
 Whether daunted by the bold act of the girl, or ad 
 miring her devotion to her father, the Indian drew 
 himself back, exclaimed "Howgh!" and drew the 
 cover again on his piece, went up to old Brand, who 
 was all this time looking him sternly in the face, and, 
 shaking him by the hand, motioned at the same time 
 to the others to be peaceable. 
 
 The other whites presently coming into camp, the 
 Indians sat quietly down by the fire, and, when the 
 supper was ready, joined in the repast, after which 
 
MARY CHASE. 
 
 they gathered their buffalo robes about them, and 
 quietly withdrew. Meanwhile Antoine, knowing the 
 treacherous character of the savages, advised that the 
 greatest precaution should be taken to secure the 
 stock ; and before dark, therafore all the mules and 
 horses were hobbled and secured within the corral, 
 the oxen being allowed to feed &t liberty for the In 
 dians scarcely care to trouble themselves with such 
 cattle. A guard was alco set the camp, and relieved 
 every two hours; the fire was extinguished, lest the 
 savages should aim, by its light, at any of the party, 
 and all slept with rifles ready at their sides. How 
 ever, the night passed quietly, and nothing disturbed 
 the tranquillity cf the camp. The prairie wolves loped 
 hungrily around, and their mournfrl cry was borne 
 upon the wind as th^-y chased deer and antelope on 
 the neighboring plain ; but not a sign of lurking 
 Indians was seen or heard. 
 
 In the morning, shortly after sunrise, they were in 
 the act of yoking the oxen to the wagons, and driving 
 in the loose anim&ls which had been turned out to feed 
 at daybreak, when some Indians again appeared on the 
 bluff, and, descending it, confidently approached the 
 camp. Antoine strongly advised their not being al 
 lowed to enter ; but Brand, ignorant of Indian treach 
 ery, replied that, so long as they came as friends, they 
 could not be deemed enemies, and allowed no obstruc 
 tion to be offered to their approach. It was now observed 
 that they were all painted, armed with bows and arrows, 
 15 
 
226 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 and divested of their buffalo robes, appearing naked 
 to the breech-clout, their legs only being protected by 
 deerskin leggings, reaching to the middle of the thigh, 
 Six or seven first arrived, and others quickly followed, 
 dropping in one after the other, until a score or more 
 were collected round the wagons. Their demeanor, 
 at first friendly, soon changed as their numbers in 
 creased, and they now became urgent in their demands 
 for powder and lead, and bullying in their manner. 
 A chief accosted Brand, and, though Antoine, in 
 formed him " that, unless the demand of his braves 
 were acceded to, he could not bo responsible for the 
 consequences ; that they were out on the ' war-trail,' 
 and their eyes n ore red with blood, so that they could 
 not distinguish ^eivveen white and Yuta scalps; that 
 the party, with all their women and wagons, were in the 
 power of the Indian * braves,' and therefore the white 
 chiefs best plan was to mai'.e the best terms he could ; 
 that all they required was thaO they should give up 
 their guns and ammunitior. ' en the prairie,' and all 
 their mules and horses retaining t"r. c medicine' 
 buffaloes (the oxen) to draw their wb.gcns," 
 
 By this time the oxen were joked, and the team 
 sters, whip in hand, only waited the word to start. 
 Old Brand foamed while the Indian stated his demands, 
 but, hearing him to the end, exclaimed, " Darn the 
 red devil ! I would'nt give him a grain of powder to 
 save my life. Put out, boys!" and, turning to his 
 horse, which stood ready saddled, was about to mount, 
 
MARY CHASE. 227 
 
 when the Indians sprang at once upon the wagons, and 
 commenced the attack, yelling like fiends. 
 
 One jumped upon Old Brand, pulled him back as he 
 was rising in the stirrup, and drew his bow upon him 
 at the same moment. In an instant the old backwoods 
 man pulled a pistol from his belt, and, putting the 
 muzzle to the Indian's heart, shot him dead. Another 
 Indian, flourishing his war-club, laid the old man at 
 his feet ; while some dragged the women from the 
 wagons, and others rushed upon the men, who made 
 brave fight in their defence. 
 
 Mary, when she saw her father struck to the ground, 
 sprang with a shrill cry to his assistance ; for at that 
 moment a savage, frightful as red paint could make 
 him, was standing over his prostrate body, brandish 
 ing a glittering knife in the air, preparatory to thrust 
 ing it into the old man's breast. For the rest, all was 
 confusion : in vain the small party of whites struggled 
 against overpowering numbers. Their rifles cracked 
 but once, and they were quickly disarmed ; while the 
 shrieks of the women and children, and the loud yells 
 of the Indians, added to the scene of horror and con 
 fusion. As Mary flew to her father's side, an Indian 
 threw his lasso at her, the noose falling over her 
 shoulders, and jerking it tight, he uttered a delighted 
 yell as the poor girl was thrown back violently to the 
 ground. As she fell, another deliberately shot an ar 
 row at her body, while the one who had thrown the 
 lasso rushed forward, his scalping-knife flashing in his 
 
228 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 hani, to seize the bloody trophy of his savage deed. 
 The girl rose to her knees, and looked wildly toward 
 the spot where her father lay bathed in blood ; but 
 the Indian pulled the rope violently, dragged her some 
 yards upon the ground, and then rushed with a yell 
 of vengeance upon his victim. He paused, however, 
 as at that moment a shout as fierce as his own sounded 
 at his very ear ; and looking up he saw La Bonte gal 
 loping madly down the bluff, his long hair and the 
 fringes of his hunting-shirt and leggings flying in the 
 wind, his right arm supporting his trusty rifle, while 
 close behind him came Killbuck and the stranger. 
 Dashing with loud hurrahs to the scene of action, La 
 Bonte, as he charged down the bluff, caught sight of 
 the girl struggling in the hands of the ferocious In 
 dian. Loud was the war-shout of the mountaineer, 
 as he struck his heavy spurs to the rowels in the 
 horse's side, and bounded like lightning to the rescue 
 In a single stride he was upon the Indian, and thrust^ 
 ing the muzzle of his rifle into his very breast, he pulled 
 the trigger, driving the savage backward by the blow 
 itself, at the same moment that the bullet passed 
 through his heart, and tumbled him over stone-dead. 
 Throwing down his rifle, La Bonte wheeled his 
 obedient horse, and drawing a pistol from his belt, 
 again charged the enemy, among whom Killbuck and 
 the stranger were dealing death-giving blows. Yelling 
 for victory, the mountaineers rushed at the Indians ; 
 and they panic-struck at the sudden attack, and think 
 
MARY CHASE. 229 
 
 ing this was but the advanced guard of a large band, 
 fairly turned and fled, leaving five of their number 
 dead upon the field. 
 
 Mary, shutting her eyes to the expected death- 
 stroke, heard the loud shout La Bonte gave in charg 
 ing down the bluff, and, again looking up, saw the 
 wild-looking mountaineer rush to her rescue, and save 
 her from the savage by his timely blow. Her arms 
 were still pinned by the lasso, which prevented her 
 from rising to her feet ; and La Bonte was the first 
 to run to aid her, as soon as the fight was fairly over. 
 He jumped from his horse, cut the skin-rope which 
 bound her, raised her from the ground, and, upon her 
 turning up her face to thank him, beheld his never- 
 to-be-forgotten Mary Bland; while she, hardly be 
 lieving her senses, recognised in her deliverer her 
 former lover, and still beloved La Bonte. 
 
 "What, Mary, can it be you!" he asked, looking 
 intently upon the trembling woman. 
 
 "La Bonte, you don't forget me!" she answered, 
 and threw herself sobbing into the arms of the sturdy 
 mountaineer. 
 
 There we will leave them for the present, and help 
 Killbuck and his five companions to examine the 
 killed and wounded. Of the former five Indians and 
 two whites lay dead, grandchildren of old Brand, fine 
 lads of fourteen or fifteen, who had fought with the 
 greatest bravery, and lay pierced with arrow and 
 .ance wounds. Old Brand had received a sore buffet. 
 
250 HEROIC WOMBS' OF THE WEST. 
 
 t 
 
 but a hatful of cold water from the creek sprinkled 
 over his face soon restored him. His sons had not 
 escaped scot-free, and Antoine was shot through the 
 neck, and falling, had actually been half scalped by 
 an Indian, whom the timely arrival of La Bonte had 
 caused to leave his work unfinished. 
 
 Silently, and with sad hearts, the survivors of the 
 family, saw the bodies of the two boys buried on the 
 river bank, and the spot marked with a pile of loose 
 stones, procured from the rocky bed of the creek. The 
 carcasses of the treacherous Indians were left to be 
 devoured by wolves, and their bones to bleach in the 
 sun and wind a warning to their tribe, that such foul 
 treachery as they had meditated had met with a merited 
 retribution. 
 
 The next day the party continued their course to 
 the Platte. Antoine and the stranger returned to 
 the Arkansas, starting in the night to avoid the In 
 dians ; but Killbuck and La Bonte lent the aid of 
 their rifles to the solitary caravan, and, under their 
 experienced guidance, no more Indian perils were en 
 countered. Mary no longer sat perched up in her 
 father's Conostoga, but rode a quiet mustang by La 
 Bonte's side ; and no doubt they found a theme with 
 which to while away the monotonous journey over the 
 ireary plains. South Fork was passed and Laramie 
 was reached. The Sweet Water Mountains, which 
 hang over the " pass" to California, were long since 
 in sight ; but when the waters of the North Fork of 
 
MARY CHASE. 231 
 
 Platte lay before their horses' feet, and the broad trail 
 was pointed out which led to the great valley of Co 
 lumbia and their promised land, the heads of the oxen 
 were turned down the stream where the shallow waters 
 flow on to join the great Missouri and not up, toward 
 the mountains where they leave their spring-heads, 
 from which spring flow several waters some coursing 
 their way to the eastward, fertilizing, in their route to 
 the Atlantic, the lands of civilized man ; others west 
 ward forcing a passage through rocky canons, and 
 flowing through a barren wilderness, inhabited by 
 fierce and barbarous tribes. 
 
 These were the routes to choose from : and, what 
 ever was the cause the oxen turned their yoked heads 
 away from the rugged mountains ; the teamsters joy 
 fully cracked their ponderous whips, as the wagons 
 rolled lightly down the Platte ; and men, women, and 
 children, waved their hats and bonnets in the air, and 
 cried out lustily, " Hurrah for home !" 
 
 La Bonte and his faithful Mary were married soon 
 afterwards. La Bonte gave up his wandering life, 
 and settled in Tennessee. 
 
MES. DOEION. 
 
 THE Pacific Fur Company, founded by John Jacob 
 Astor, of New York, in 1810, met with extraordinary 
 difficulties in carrying on its trading operations in the 
 wilderness of Oregon. The country and its inhabi 
 tants were almost entirely unknown. When explor 
 ing parties started from Astoria, they found that they 
 had to proceed through regions where the greatest 
 privations were to be endured ; and the Indians dis 
 played the most determined hostility. To add to the 
 misfortunes of the adventurers, war broke out between 
 Great Britain and the United States, and the Hudson's 
 Bay Company took possession of Astoria. 
 
 Early in the summer of 1813, a party of traders, 
 under the command of a Mr. Reed, and accompanied 
 by Pierre Dorion, an interpreter, with his wife and 
 two children, started on an expedition into the Snake 
 country. Nothing more was heard of them until 
 April of the next year, when Mrs. Dorion, accompa 
 nied by a few friendly Indians, arrived at Walla 
 (232) 
 
MRS. DORION. 23 
 
 Walla. This unfortunate woman told a story of hard 
 ships, borne with a fortitude, and surmounted with a 
 resolution, to which we can find no parallel in the 
 annals of female heroism. We give her narrative in 
 her own simple and touching words : 
 
 " About the middle of August we reached the Great 
 Snake River, and soon afterwards, following up a 
 branch to the right hand, where there were plenty of 
 beaver, we encamped ; and there Mr. Reed built a house 
 to winter in. After the house was built, the people 
 spent their time in trapping beaver. About the latter 
 end of September, Hoback, Robinson, and Rezner came 
 to us ; but they were very poor, the Indians having 
 robbed them of every thing they had about fifteen days 
 before. Mr. Reed gave them some clothing and traps, 
 and they went to hunt with my husband. Landrie got 
 a fall from his horse, lingered a while, and died of it. 
 Delaunay was killed, when trapping : my husband told 
 me that he saw his scalp with the Indians, and knew 
 it from the color of the hair. The Indians about the 
 place were very friendly to us ; but when strange tribes 
 visited us, they were troublesome, and always asked 
 Mr. Reed for guns and ammunition : on one occasion, 
 they drove an arrow into one of the horses, and took 
 a capot from La Chapelle. Mr. Reed not liking the 
 place where we first built, we left it, and built farther 
 up the river, on the other side. After the second house 
 was built, the people went to trap as usual, sometimes 
 coming home every night, sometimes sleeping out for 
 
234 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 several nights together at a time. Mr. Reed and one 
 man generally stayed at the house. 
 
 " Late one evening, about the 10th of January, a 
 friendly Indian came running to our house, in a great 
 fright, and told Mr. Reed that a band of the bad Snakes 
 called the Dog-rib tribe, had burnt the first house that 
 we had built, and that they were coming on whooping 
 and singing the war-song. After communicating this 
 intelligence, the Indian went off immediately, and I 
 took up my two children, got upon a horse, and set off 
 to where my husband was trapping ; but the night was 
 dark, the road bad, and I lost my way. The next day 
 being cold and stormy, I did not stir. On the second 
 day, however, I set out again ; but seeing a large 
 smoke in the direction I had to go, and thinking it 
 might proceed from Indians, I got into the bushes 
 again and hid myself. On the third day, late in the 
 evening, I got in sight of the hut, where my husband 
 and the other men were hunting ; but just as I was ap 
 proaching the place, I observed a man coming from the 
 opposite side, and staggering as if unwell : I stopped 
 where I was till he came to me. Le Clerc, wounded 
 and faint from loss of blood, was the man. He told 
 me that La Chapelle, Rezner, and my husband had 
 been robbed and murdered that morning. I did not 
 go into the hut ; but putting Le Clerc and one of my 
 children on the horse I had with me, I turned round 
 immediately, took to the woods, and I retraced my 
 steps back again to Mr. Reed's ; Le Clerc, however, 
 
MRS. DORION. 235 
 
 could not bear the jolting of the horse, and he fell 
 once or twice, so that we had to remain for nearly a 
 day in one place ; but in the night he died, and I 
 covered him over with brushwood and snow, put my 
 children on the horse, I myself walking and leading 
 the animal by the halter. The second day I got back 
 again to the house. But sad was the sight ! Mr. 
 Reed and the men were all murdered, scalped, and 
 cut to pieces. Desolation and horror stared me in 
 the face. I turned from the shocking sight in agony 
 and despair ; took to the woods with my children and 
 horse, and passed the cold and lonely night without 
 food or fire. I was now at a loss what 'to do : the 
 snow was deep, the weather cold, and we had nothing 
 to eat. To undertake a long journey under such cir 
 cumstances was inevitable death. Had I been alone 
 I would have run all risks and proceeded ; but the 
 thought of my children perishing with hunger dis 
 tracted me. At this moment a sad alternative crossed 
 my mind ; should I venture to the house among the 
 dead to seek food for the living ? I knew there was 
 a good stock of fish there ; but it might have been 
 destroyed or carried off by the murderers ; and, be 
 sides, they might be still lurking about and see me ; 
 yet I thought of my children. Next morning, after a 
 sleepless night, I wrapped my children in my robe, tied 
 my horse in a thicket, and then went to a rising ground, 
 that overlooked the house, to see if I could observe 
 any thing stirring about the place. I saw nothing ; 
 
236 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 and, hard as the task was, I resolved to venture aftei 
 dark ; so I returned back to my children, and found 
 them nearly frozen, and I was afraid to make a fire in 
 the day time lest the smoke might be seen ; yet I had 
 no other alternative, I must make a fire or let my 
 children perish. I made a fire and warmed them. I 
 then rolled them up again in the robe, extinguished the 
 fire, and set off after dark to the house ; went into the 
 store and ransacked every hole and corner, and at last 
 found plenty of fish scattered about. I gathered, hid, 
 and slung upon my back as much as I could carry, 
 and returned again before dawn of day to my children. 
 They were nearly frozen, and weak with hunger. I 
 made a fire and warmed them, and then we shared the 
 first food we had tasted for the last three days. Next 
 night I went back again, and carried off another load ; 
 but when these efforts were over, I sank under the 
 sense of my afflictions, and was for three days unable 
 to move, and without hope. " On recovering a little, 
 however, I packed all up, loaded my horse, and putting 
 my children on the top of the load, set out again on 
 foot, leading the horse by the halter as before. In 
 this sad and hopeless condition I travelled through 
 deep snow among the woods, rocks, and rugged paths 
 for nine days, till I and the horse could travel no more. 
 " Here I selected a lonely spot at the foot of a rocky 
 precipice, in the Blue Mountains, intending there to 
 pass the remainder of the winter. I killed my horse, 
 and hung up the flesh on a tree for my winter food. 
 
MRS. DOKION. 237 
 
 I built a small hut with pine branches, long grass, and 
 moss, and packed it all round with snow to keep us 
 warm, and this was a difficult task, for I had no axe, 
 but only a knife to cut wood. In this solitary dwel 
 ling I passed fifty-three lonely days ! I then left my 
 hut and set out with my children to cross the moun 
 tains ; but I became snow blind the second day, and 
 had to remain for three days without advancing a step ; 
 and this was unfortunate, as our provisions were almost 
 exhausted. Having recovered my sight a little, I set 
 out again, and got clear off the mountains, and down 
 to the plains on the fifteenth day after leaving my 
 winter encampment ; but for six days we had scarcely 
 any thing to eat, and for the last two days not a 
 mouthful. Soon after we had reached the plains I per 
 ceived smoke at a distance ; but being unable to carry 
 my children farther, I wrapped them up in my robe, left 
 them concealed, and set out alone in hopes of reaching 
 the Indian camp, where I had seen the smoke ; but I 
 was so weak that I could hardly crawl, and had to 
 sleep on the way. Next day, at noon, I got to the 
 camp. It proved to belong to the Walla Wallas, and 
 I was kindly treated by them. Immediately on my 
 arrival the Indians set off in search of my children, 
 and brought them to the camp the same night. Here 
 we staid for two days, and then moved on to the river, 
 expecting to hear something of the white people on 
 their way either up or down.'* 
 
 The poor woman was well provided for by the whites 
 
238 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 at Walla Walla ; but it was a long time before she re 
 covered from the suffering and exertion of her extra 
 ordinary journey. It will be observed that in her nar 
 rative, Mrs. Dorion mentions that on several occa 
 sions she was about to yield to despair, to resign herself 
 to her fate, and perish without further struggles. But 
 the* feelings of the mother interfered. Her children's 
 lives were at stake, and she could not look on quietly 
 and see them freeze or starve. She lived and struggled 
 for their salvation, and God willed that she should be 
 successful. 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF 
 MALE EMIGRANTS. 
 
 IN many cases, where the " weaker" sex are brought 
 m direct rivalry of endurance with their sterner com 
 panions, they prove that they are at least equal ; and 
 when the difference of habit and occupation are taken 
 into consideration, we are compelled to a yard the 
 fresher laurels to woman. 
 
 In the summer and autumn of 1846, a party of 
 California emigrants met with a series of disasters 
 never before experienced by adventurers upon the 
 western plains, and of a nature so terrible that the 
 bare recital is painful. The party consisted of J. F. 
 Reed, wife, and four children ; Jacob Donner, wife, 
 and seven children; William Pike, wife, and two 
 children ; William Foster, wife, and one child, ; Lewis 
 Kiesburg, wife, and one child ; Mrs. Murphy, a widow 
 woman, and five children; William M'Cutchen. wife, 
 and one child ; W. H. Eddy, wife, and two children ; 
 W. Graves, wife, and eight children ; Jay Fosdicka 
 and his wife ; Noah James, Patrick Dolan, Samue 1 
 
 (239 s ! 
 
240 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Shoemaker, John Denton, C. F, Stanton, Milton El 
 
 liot, Smith, Joseph Bianhard, Augustus Spizer, 
 
 John Baptiste, Antoine, Herring, 
 
 Hallerin, Charles Burger, and Baylis Williams. 
 
 The party was well supplied with wagons, teams, 
 cattle, provision, arms, and ammunition. 
 
 At the camp, on the Sweet Water river, on the 
 eastern side of the Rocky Mountains, the party was 
 induced" by the representations of one Lansford W. 
 Hastings, to take a new route to California, and they 
 started through an unknown region, full of hope, and 
 of a speedy journey. But they found great difficulty 
 in proceeding, even before they came to the Utah 
 valley. One part of the road had to be cut through 
 a wood, and the emigrants were occupied thirty days 
 in travelling forty miles. On the 1st day of Septem 
 ber, they pursued their journey around the south side 
 of the Great Salt Lake, and through a beautiful val 
 ley, since occupied by the Mormons. There they 
 were detained a short time, by the death of Mr. Hal 
 lerin, and an accident to a wagon. Soon after resum 
 ing their journey, the party was compelled to travel 
 two days without finding grass or water, and many of 
 their cattle died from exhaustion. After this perilous 
 drive, gloomy forebodings seized upon the stoutest 
 hearts among the emigrants. 
 
 Many families were completely ruined. They were 
 yet in a country of hostile Indians, far from all succor, 
 betrayed by one of their own countrymen. They 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 241 
 
 could not tell what" was the character of the road yet 
 before them, since the man in whose veracity they re 
 posed confidence, had proved himself so utterly un 
 worthy of it. To retreat across the desert to Bridger 
 was impossible. There was no way left to them, but 
 to advance ; and this they now regarded as perilous in 
 the extreme. The cattle that survived were exhausted 
 and broken down ; but to remain there was to die. 
 Feeble and .dispirited, therefore, they slowly resumed 
 cheir journey. 
 
 On this drive thirty-six head of working cattle were 
 lost, and the oxen that survived were greatly injured. 
 One of Mr. Reed's wagons was brought to camp ; and 
 two, with all they contained, were buried in the plain. 
 George Donner lost one wagon. Kiesburg also lost a 
 wagon. The atmosphere was so dry upon the plain, 
 that the wood-work of all the wagons shrank to a de 
 gree that made it next to impossible to get any of 
 them through. 
 
 Having yoked some loose cows, as a team for Mr. 
 Reed, they broke up their camp on the morning of 
 September 16th, and resumed their toilsome' journey, 
 with feelings which can be appreciated by those only 
 who have travelled the road under somewhat similar 
 circumstances. On this day they travelled six miles, 
 encountering a very severe snow storm. About three 
 o'clock, P. M., they met Milton Elliot and William 
 Graves, returning from a fruitless effort to find some 
 cattle that had got off. .They informed them that they 
 16 
 
242 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 were in the immediate vicinity of a spring, at which com 
 menced another dry drive of forty miles. They en 
 camped for the night, and at dawn of day of Septem 
 ber 17th, they resumed their journey, and at four 
 o'clock, A. M., of the 18th, they arrived at water and 
 grass, some of their cattle having perished, and the 
 teams which survived being in a very enfeebled con 
 dition. Here the most of the little property which 
 Mr. Reed still had, was buried, or cached, together 
 with that of others. Here, Mr. Eddy proposed putting 
 his team to Mr. Reed's wagon, and letting Mr. Pike 
 have his wagon, so that the three families could be 
 taken on. This was done. They remained in camp 
 during the day of the 18th to complete these arrange 
 ments, and to recruit their exhausted cattle. 
 
 The journey was continued with scarcely any inter 
 ruption or accident, until the 1st of October, when 
 some Indians stole a yoke of oxen from Mr. Graves. 
 Other thefts followed, and it became evident that the 
 party would suffer severely, from the hostility of the 
 of the Indians. The women were kept in continual 
 , alarm by the proximity of the savages, and the pros 
 pects of their depredations. A large number of cattle 
 were stolen or shot by these merciless marauders. 
 
 On the morning of October 12th, the emigrants 
 resumed their journey. One of Mr. Eddy's oxen gave 
 out during the day, and they left him. At twelve 
 o'clock at night they encamped at the sinks of Ogden's 
 river. At daylight on the morning of the 13th they 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 243 
 
 drove their cattle to grass, and put them under a guard. 
 The guard came in to breakfast, and in their absence 
 the Indians killed twenty-one head, including the 
 whole of Mr. Eddy's team, except one ox; the whole 
 of "Wolfinger's, except one. Wolfinger wished to cache 
 his goods at the sinks, but the company refused to wait. 
 Rianhard and Spitzer, who was travelling with him, re 
 mained behind to assist him. Three days afterward 
 the two former came up to the company at Truckee 
 river, and said that the Indians came down from the 
 hills upon them, and after killing Wolfinger, drove 
 them from the wagons, which they burned, after taking 
 the goods out. 
 
 Here Mr. Eddy cached every thing he had, except 
 the clothing which he and his family had on. On this 
 morning they partook of their last remaining mouthful 
 of food. The Indians were upon the adjacent hills, 
 looking down upon them, and absolutely laughing at 
 their calamity. The lock of Mr. Eddy's rifle had been 
 broken some days before, and the gun left. He could 
 not obtain one, and had he been able to do so, it would 
 have been worse than insanity for him to have encoun 
 tered the Indians alone. Dejected and sullen, he took 
 up about three pounds of loaf sugar, put some bullets 
 in his pocket, and stringing his powder-horn upon his 
 shoulders, took up his boy in his arms, while his afflicted 
 Eleanor carried their still more helpless infant, and 
 in this most miserable and forlorn plight, they set out 
 once more on foot to make their way through the pitj- 
 
244 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 less wilderness. Trackless, snow-clad mountains in 
 tercepted their progress, and seemed to present an im 
 passable barrier to all human succor : mountains, 
 the passage of which, with even the accessories of 
 emigrant wagons, and in the most pleasant season, 
 would have been a feat of no small difficulty. Without 
 shoes these having been worn out by the jagged 
 rocks they had nothing to protect their feet but moc 
 casins, which were also so much worn as to be of little 
 service. Their painful and perilous way led over broker 
 rocks, presenting acute angles, or prickly pears, which 
 alike lacerated their feet in the most dreadful manner. 
 Nature disputed their passage, and Heaven seemed to 
 be offended. They struggled on, however, with their 
 precious charge, without food or water, until 4 o'clock 
 on the morning of the 14th, when they arrived at a 
 spring that jetted up a column of boiling hot water, 
 about twenty feet high. It was situated in a region 
 that had been rent into millions of fragments by vol 
 canic fires. The desolation was such as to impress 
 upon the mind the idea of expiring nature convulsed 
 with the throes and agonies of the last great and ter 
 rible day, or of an angry Deity having taken vengeance 
 on a guilty world. Having obtained some coffee from 
 Mrs. Donner, Mr. Eddy put it into a pot, and thus 
 boiled it in the hot spring for the nourishment of his 
 wife and children, refusing to partake of it himself. 
 
 About nine o'clock the party left the Geyser Spring 
 and travelled all that day until sunset, over a road ir 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 245 
 
 no respect different from that of the 13th. At thia 
 time Mr. Eddy's little children were in great danger 
 of perishing for the want of water. He applied to 
 Patrick Brinn, who he knew had ten gallons, for a 
 half pint to give to them. Brinn denied having any ; 
 but this Mr. Eddy knew to be untrue, for he had him 
 self filled Brinn's cask at the sinks of OgderA river ; 
 Brinn finally admitted that he had water, but he said 
 he did not know how far water was yet distant from 
 them, and he feared his own family would require it. 
 Mr. Eddy told him with an energy he never before 
 felt, that he would have it or have Brinn's life. He 
 immediately turned away from Brinn, and went m 
 quest of the water and gave some to his children. 
 
 At sunset they arrived at an exceedingly difficult 
 sand-ridge of ten miles in width. They crossed it 
 about four o'clock on the morning of the 15th, the 
 company losing three yoke of cattle that died from 
 fatigue. 
 
 Neither Mr. Eddy nor his wife had tasted food for 
 two days and nights, nor had the children any thing 
 except the sugar with which he left the sinks at Ogden's 
 river. He applied to Mrs. Graves and Mrs. Brinn for 
 a small piece of meat for his wife and children, who 
 were very faint. They both refused. The emigrants 
 remained in camp to rest the cattle. The Indians killed 
 some of them during the day. 
 
 Mr. Eddy procured a gun in the morning, and 
 started to kill some geese which he heard. In about 
 
246* HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST.' 
 
 two hours he returned with nine very fat ones. Mrs. 
 Brinn and Mrs. Graves congratulated him, and ex 
 pressed the opinion that they were very fine, and won 
 dered what he would do with them. He invited them 
 to help themselves, and they each took two. He gave 
 Kiesburg one. 
 
 October 16th, early in the morning, they resumed 
 their journey, and commenced driving up Truckee 
 river. Nothing of importance occurred until October 
 19th, about ten o'clock, A.M., when they met Mr. C. 
 F. Stanton and two Indian vaqueros (cow-herds) of 
 Captain Sutter, one named Lewis, and the other Sal- 
 vadore. Mr. Stanton had flour and a little dried 
 meat, which he had procured for them. 
 
 William Pike was killed by the accidental discharge 
 of a six-shooter in the hands of William Foster. He 
 died in one hour : he was shot through in the back. 
 
 On the evening of October 22d, they crossed the 
 Truckee river, the forty-ninth and last time, in eighty 
 miles. They encamped on the top of a hill. Here 
 nineteen oxen were shot by an Indian, who put one 
 arrow in each ox. The cattle did not die. Mr. Eddy 
 caught him in the act, and fired upon him as he fled. 
 The ball struck him between the shoulders, and came 
 out at the breast. At the crack of the rifle he sprung 
 up about three feet, and with a terrible yell fell down a 
 bank into a bunch of willows. 
 
 On the morning of October 23d they resumed their 
 journey, and continued travelling without any thing 
 
WONI/ERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 247 
 
 of importance occurring until October 28th at dark, 
 when they encamped upon Truckee Lake, situated at 
 the foot of Fremont's Pass of the main chain of the 
 Sierra Nevada. The Pass is here nine thousand eight 
 hundred and thirty eight feet high. 
 
 On the morning of October the 29th, they again con 
 tinued their journey, and went on within three miles 
 of the top of the Pass, where they found the snow about 
 five feet deep. This compelled them to return to a 
 cabin, which was situated one mile in advance of their 
 camp of the previous night. Here they remained in 
 camp during the 30th. At dark their fellow-travellers, 
 Stanton, Graves, the Donners and some others, came 
 up. On the morning of October 31st the whole body 
 again started to cross the mountain. They succeeded 
 in getting within three miles of the top of the Pass. 
 The snow had deepened to about ten feet. The night 
 was bitterly cold ; the wind howled through the trees, 
 and the snow and hail descended. Finding it utterly 
 impossible to cross, they commenced retracing their 
 step? on the morning of November 1st, and arrived 
 at the cabin about four o'clock.* 
 
 The emigrants now saw that they would be com 
 pelled to winter where they were, and they set to work 
 to build cabins and collect provisions. On the 12tb 
 of November, a party, headed by Mr. Eddy, started to 
 cross the mountains on foot, and obtain relief for the 
 families left behind. The parting between the hus* 
 ** Oregon and California," by Thornton. 
 
248 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 bands and wives was affecting, for neither knew but 
 that it would be final. But the snow was found to be 
 so deep upon the mountains, that the party could not 
 proceed, and it returned to the camp. Mr. Eddy now 
 succeeded in killing a grizzly bear and some game, 
 but starvation began to stare the emigrants in the face. 
 On the 21st of November, six women and sixteen 
 men, including Stanton and two Indians, made another 
 effort to cross the mountains on foot. They reached 
 the western side of the mountain, but there Stanton 
 refused to proceed, in consequence of not being able 
 to get along with seven mules belonging -to Captain 
 Sutter. Mr. Eddy argued and threatened in vain ; 
 and the party was once more compelled to return to 
 camp. A violent snow storm now set in, and it be 
 came exceedingly difficult for the emigrants to obtain 
 wood, to protect themselves against the severity of the 
 weather. The sufferings of the women were intense, 
 but, according to the testimony of the survivors of this 
 trying time, they bore it with extraordinary fortitude. 
 The snow continued to fall until the 5th of December, 
 and, when the clouds broke away, the emigrants found 
 it eight feet deep. The sunshine, however, cheered 
 them somewhat and some of the party manufactured 
 snow-shoes to make another attempt at crossing the 
 mountains. On the llth, the snow again descended, 
 and the hearts of. the emigrants died within them. On 
 the 14th, Baylis Williams died of starvation. Severa^ 
 others of the party seemed about to meet the same fate 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 24 ( J 
 
 On the 16th of December, the following personi 
 started on snow-shoes to cross the mountains : Sarah 
 Fosdick, Mary Graves, William Foster, Sarah Foster, 
 C. F. Stanton, William Graves, Jay Fosdick, William 
 Murphy, Patrick Dolan, Antoine, Lewis, Salvadore ; 
 Charles Burger, Harriet Pike, Lemuel Murphy, 
 Mrs. M'Cutchen, and William Eddy. The parting 
 between Eddy and his wife has been described by the 
 husband as agonizing in the extreme. In the early 
 part of the journey, two men, William Murphy and 
 Charles Burger, were compelled by weakness to turn 
 back. 
 
 The others pressed on, and, on the third day, they 
 encamped on the west side of the Sierra Nevada. On 
 the 22d of December, they consumed the last of their 
 little stock of provisions. The next day, Mr. Eddy, 
 while examining a bag for the purpose of throwing 
 out something, to enable him to get along with more 
 ease, found about half a pound of bear's meat, to which 
 was attached a paper, on which his wife had written a 
 note, signed, "Your own dear Eleanor," in which she 
 requested him to save it for the last extremity, and 
 expressed the opinion that it would be the means of 
 saving his life. The self-sacrifice involved in the little 
 present can scarcely be conceived by those who are 
 enjoying plenty. While the wife knew that every 
 morsel of food she had would be necessary to sustain 
 her and - her children, until the return of the party, 
 she had voluntary yielded a portion in the hope that 
 
250 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 her husband might be saved. She was ready to die 
 that he might live. 
 
 Mr. Stanton fell behind and perished soon after 
 provisions failed. On Christmas day, the snow fall 
 ing fast, the party held a council, for the purpose of 
 determining whether to proceed. All the men but 
 Mr. Eddy, refused to go forward. The women and 
 Mr. Eddy declared they would go through or perish. 
 It was now proposed that one person should be sacri 
 ficed to furnish food for the rest. This met with a 
 determined opposition, and the miserable travellers 
 continued to plod on for a few miles. They then 
 encamped; but the wind prevented them having a 
 fire. That night, Antoine, Mr. Graves, and Patrick 
 Dolan, perished of hunger and cold, and Lemuel Mur 
 phy became deranged. Mr. Eddy, retaining his re 
 sources of mind, devised various ways of keeping the 
 rest of the party alive. A fire was now built. Por 
 tions of the body of Patrick Dolan were eaten by the 
 famished travellers, except Mr. Eddy. Lemuel Mur 
 phy died. Never were more horrors concentrated 
 upon one spot than was witnessed at that " Camp of 
 Death." The women, singularly enough, endured 
 their privation with a fortitude that called forth the 
 admiration of Mr. Eddy. 
 
 On the 29th of December, the party left the " Camp 
 of Death," and marched slowly onward. Their In 
 dian guides declared that they had lost the way, but 
 they still moved forward. All their provisions were 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 251 
 
 now consumed. On the morning of the 4th of January, 
 1847, Mr. Eddy, seeing that all would soon perish, 
 unless food was quickly obtained, resolved to take the 
 gun, and press forward alone. He informed tne party 
 of his purpose. The women besought him not to leave 
 them. Mary Graves, who had more strength than 
 the other women, resolved that she would go with him 
 or perish. The two set forward. Soon afterwards, 
 Eddy had the great good fortune to shoot a deer, and 
 that night the couple made a meal upon the entrails 
 of the animal. The next day, the rest of the party, 
 with the exception of Jay Fosdick, who had perished 
 during the preceding night, were relieved. The emi 
 grants, somewhat refreshed, then pursued their jour 
 ney. The Indians, Lewis and Salvadore, being threat 
 ened with death at the hands of the famished party, 
 had, some days before, stolen away so that there 
 now remained five women, Mary Graves, Mrs. Pike, 
 Mrs. M'Cutchen, Mrs. Foster, and Mrs. Fosdick, in 
 charge of Mr. Eddy and Mr. Foster. Foster was 
 weak, and, at times, insane ; so that Mr. Eddy alone, 
 was able to guide the females. 
 
 After the body of the deer had been consumed, the 
 party fell upon the tracks of the two Indians. Foster 
 overtook and killed them both. The flesh was then 
 cut from their bones and dried. On the 10th of Jan 
 uary, when the emigrants were almost exhausted, and 
 even Mr. Eddy was beginning to despair, they arrived 
 at an Indian village, where they were hospitably re- 
 
252 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 ceived and their immediate wants satisfied. The In 
 dians accompanied them to the house of Colonel M. D, 
 Richey, where better fare was provided than the poor 
 Indians possessed. Mr. Eddy was immediately put to 
 bed, being completely exhausted by the privations of 
 his awful journey. 
 
 The government of California being informed of the 
 imminent peril of the emigrants in the mountain camp, 
 took measures to send out relief; and a number of in 
 habitants contributed articles of clothing and provi 
 sions. Two expeditions, however, failed to cross the 
 mountains in consequence of the depth of the snow. 
 At length, a party of seven men, headed by Aquilla 
 Glover and accompanied by Mr. Eddy, who, though 
 weak, insisted on returning to ascertain the fate of his 
 beloved wife and children, succeeded in crossing the 
 mountains and reaching the camp. What they found 
 there is best described by Judge Thornton, from whose 
 graphic account of this disastrous expedition we have 
 condensed the above. 
 
 They arrived at The Mountain Camp as the last 
 rays of the setting sun were departing from the tops 
 of the mountains. Every thing was as silent as the 
 grave. A painful stillness pervaded the scene. Upon 
 some of the party raising a shout, for the purpose of 
 finding their cabins, by attracting the attention of the 
 living if, indeed, any did live the sufferers were 
 seen coming out of the snow-holes, from the cabins, 
 which were completely covered, the snow presenting 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. '253 
 
 one unbroken level. They tottered toward their de 
 liverers, manifesting a delirium of iov. and acting in 
 the wildest and most extravagant manner. Some 
 wept ; some laughed. All inquired, " Have you 
 brought any thing for me?" Many of them had a 
 peculiarly wild expression of the eye ; all looked 
 haggard, ghastly, and horrible. The flesh was wasted 
 from their bodies, and the skin seemed to have dried 
 upon their bones. Their voices were weak and sepul 
 chral ; and the whole scene conveyed to the mind the 
 idea of that shout having awakened the dead from 
 the snows. Fourteen of their number, principally 
 men, had already died from starvation, and many 
 more were so reduced, that it was almost certain they 
 would never rise from the miserable beds upon which 
 they had lain down. The unhappy survivors were, in 
 short, in a condition the most deplorable, and beyond 
 the power of language to describe, or of the imagina 
 tion to conceive. The annals of human suffering no 
 where present a more appalling spectacle, than that 
 which blasted the eyes and sickened the hearts of 
 those brave men, whose indomitable courage and per 
 severance, in the face of so many dangers, hardships, 
 and privations, snatched some of these miserable sur 
 vivors from the jaws of death, and who, for having 
 done so much, merit the lasting gratitude and respect 
 of every man who has a heart to feel for human woe, 
 or a hand to afford relief. 
 
 Many of the sufferers had been living for weeks 
 
25 I HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 upon bullocks' hides, and even this sort of food was so 
 nearly exhausted with some, that they were about to 
 dig up from the snow the bodies of their companions, 
 for the purpose of prolonging their wretched lives. 
 Mrs. Reed, who lived in Brinn's cabin, had, during 
 a considerable length of time, supported herself and 
 four children, by cracking and boiling again the bones 
 from which Brinn's family had carefully scraped all 
 the flesh. These bones she had often taken, and 
 boiled again and again, for the purpose of extracting 
 the least remaining portion of nutriment. Mrs. Eddy 
 and her children had perished. 
 
 Some of the emigrants had been making prepara 
 tions for death, and at morning and evening the in 
 cense of prayer and thanksgiving ascended from 
 their cheerless and comfortless dwellings. Others 
 there were, who cursed God, cursed the snow, and 
 cursed the mountain, and in the wildest frenzy de 
 plored their miserable and hard fate. Some poured 
 bitter imprecations upon the head of L. W. Hastings, 
 for having deceived them as to the road upon which 
 he had conducted them ; and all united in common 
 fears of a common and inevitable death. Many of 
 them had, in a great measure, lost all self-respect. 
 Untold sufferings had broken their spirits, and pros 
 trated every thing like an honorable and commendable 
 pride. Misfortune had dried up the fountains of the 
 heart ; and the dead, whom their weakness had made 
 it impossible to carry out, were dragged from their 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 25 
 
 cabins by means of ropes, with an apathy that afforded 
 a laiiit indication of the extent of the change which a 
 few weeks of dire suffering had produced, in hearts 
 that once sympathized with the distressed, and mourned 
 the departed. With many of them, all principle, too, 
 had been swept away by this tremendous torrent of 
 accumulated and accumulating calamities. It became 
 necessary to place a guard over the little store of pro 
 visions brought to their relief; and they stole and de 
 voured the raw-hide strings from the snow-shoes of 
 those who had come to deliver them. But some there 
 were, whom no temptation could seduce, no suffering 
 move ; who were 
 
 44 Among the faithless, faithful still." 
 
 Upon going down into the cabins of this Mountain 
 Camp, the party were presented with sights of woe, 
 and scenes of horror, the full tale of which never will 
 be tfold, and never ought ; sights which, although the 
 emigrants had not yet commenced eating the dead, 
 were so revolting, that they were compelled to with 
 draw, and make a fire where they would not be under 
 the necessity of looking upon the painful spectacle. 
 
 On the morning of February 20th, John Rhodes, 
 Daniel Tucker, and R. S. Mootrey, went to the camp 
 of George Donner eight miles distant, taking with 
 them a little beef. These sufferers were found with 
 but one hide remaining. They had determined, thai, 
 upon consuming this, they would dig up from the sno\* 
 
256 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 the bodies of those who had died from starvation. Mr, 
 Donner was helpless. Mrs. Dormer was weak, but in 
 good health, and might have come into the settlements 
 with Mr. Glover's party, yet she solemnly but calmly 
 declared her determination to remain with her husband, 
 and perform for him the last sad offices of affection 
 and humanity. And this she did, in full view of the 
 fact, that she must necessarily perish by remaining 
 behind. 
 
 On the evening of the 20th, the party that had gone 
 down to Mr. Donner's camp in the morning, returned, 
 bringing seven persons with them. 
 
 The next day, at noon, the party, after leaving all 
 the provisions they could spare, commenced their re 
 turn from the Mountain Camp to the settlement, with 
 twenty-three persons, principally women and children. 
 The results of the disastrous and horrible journey of 
 Eddy and Foster were carefully concealed from these 
 poor sufferers. To have acted otherwise would have 
 been to overwhelm them with fear and despondency, 
 and this in their condition would have proved fatal. 
 
 Mrs. Pike's child and Mrs. Kiesburg's were carried 
 by the party. After proceeding about two miles, two 
 of Mrs. Reed's children gave out ; the one a little girl 
 of eight years old, and the other a little boy of four. 
 It became absolutely necessary, therefore, to Return 
 them to the Mountain Camp, or to abandon them upon 
 the way. The mother was informed by Mr. Glover, 
 that it was necessary to take them back. And 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 257 
 
 ensued that which is hoped none may ever be called 
 upon to witness again. She was a wife, and affection 
 for her husband, then in the settlement, no doubt sug 
 gested her going on. But she was a mother, also ; 
 and maternal love the strongest of all feelings, that 
 most powerful of all instincts determined her, inline* 
 diately, to send forward the two children who could 
 walk, while she would go back with the two youngest, 
 and die with them. It was impossible for Mr. Glover 
 to shake this resolution, although he promised, that 
 when he arrived at Bear river valley, he would go 
 back for them. At length she asked, "Are you a 
 mason?" Upon receiving an answer in the affirmative, 
 she said, " Do you promise me upon the word of a 
 mason, that when you arrive at Bear river valley, you 
 will return and bring out my children, if we shall not, 
 in the mean time, meet their father going for them ?" 
 Mr. Glover replied, "I do thus promise." She then 
 consented to go on. When the mother and children 
 were about to separate, Patty, a little girl eight years 
 of age, took her mother by the hand, and said, " Well, 
 mamma, kiss me. Good-bye ! I shall never see you 
 again. I am willing to go back to our Mountain Camp 
 and die ; but I cannot consent to your going back. I 
 shall die willingly, if I can believe that you will live 
 to see papa. Tell him, good-bye, for his poor Patty." 
 The mother and the little children lingered in a long 
 embrace, Being separated, Patty turned from hei 
 mother to go back to camp. As Mr. Glover and Mr. 
 17 
 
258 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Mootrey were taking the children back, she told them 
 that she was willing to go back and take care of her 
 little brother, but that she " should never see her 
 mother again."* 
 
 Messrs. Glover and Mootrey returned after the 
 party had encamped ; but they carefully concealed 
 from Mrs. Reed the fact that Brinn and his wife abso 
 lutely refused to permit the children to come into the 
 cabin until many promises of immediate succor were 
 made. On the return, the party was exposed to great 
 privation. The cache of provisions was found to have 
 been completely destroyed by a cougar. John Denton 
 perished of cold. But a little additional provision 
 was brought by two men from the settlements. Mrs. 
 Reed met her husband, who had been driven from the 
 party, for some offence, before its disasters began, and 
 who had never expected to see his wife again. Glover's 
 party then proceeded in safety to the settlements, 
 where the suffering emigrants were well provided. 
 
 Messrs. Reed and M'Cutchen next headed a party 
 that proceeded to the Mountain Camp, with supplies. 
 Mr. Reed found his children alive, but undergoing 
 dreadful sufferings. In some of the cabins, particu 
 larly that of Lewis Kiesburg, parts of human bodies 
 were found prepared for eating, and there were also 
 Been the traces of many a horrid feast. Mr. Reed 
 commenced his return to the settlements, with seven 
 teen of the unhappy beings who had wintered in 
 * " Oregon and California," by Thornton. 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 259 
 
 the camp. During the journey, hardships and pri 
 vations were endured, to which tiie journey of Mr. 
 Eddy's party alone could furnish a parallel. 
 
 The persons taken under Mr. Reed's guidance were 
 Patrick Brinn, wife, and five children ; Mrs. Graves 
 and four children ; Mary and Isaac Donner, children 
 of Jacob Donner ; Solomon Hook, a step-son of Jacob 
 Donner, and two of his children. They reached the 
 foot of the mountain without much difficulty ; but they 
 ascertained that their provisions would not last them 
 more than a day and a half. Mr. Reed then sent 
 three men forward with instructions to get supplies at 
 a cache about fifteen miles from the camp. The party 
 resumed its journey, crossed the Sierra Nevada, and 
 after travelling about ten miles, encamped on a bleak 
 point, on the north side of a little valley, near the 
 head of the Yuba river. A storm set in, and con 
 tinued for two days and three nights. On the morn 
 ing of the third day, the clouds broke away, and the 
 weather became more intensely cold than it had been 
 during the journey. The sufferings of the emigrants 
 in their bleak camp were too dreadful to be described. 
 There was the greatest difficulty in keeping up a fire, 
 and, during the night, the women and children who 
 had on very thin clothing, were in great danger of 
 freezing to death. When the storm passed away, 
 the whole party were very weak, having been two 
 days without taking food. None were able to travel 
 except Solomon Hook and Patrick Brinn and family. 
 
260 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 The latter said they would remain in camp, with the 
 disabled ones ; and Mr. Reed, with his California 
 friends, his two children, Solomon Hook, and a Mr, 
 Miller, pressed forward for supplies. Patty, Mr. 
 Reed's daughter, displayed wonderful powers of en 
 durance during the first day of the journey, and fre 
 quently encouraged the men by her remarks. At 
 night, the party was joined by Messrs. Stone and 
 Cady, from the Mountain Camp. The next day, after 
 proceeding a short distance, Mr. Reed found a small 
 supply of food that had been left by the first party 
 sent back to the cache for provisions. This was timely, 
 as Mr. Reed and his companions had been four days 
 without food. Pressing forward, they soon succeeded 
 in reaching the settlements. 
 
 Patrick Brinn and the others left by Mr. Reed, were 
 not relieved until Messrs. Eddy and Foster led an ex 
 pedition from the settlements to their camp. A shocking 
 spectacle was presented to the eyes of the adventurers 
 at what they appropriately called the " Starved 
 Camp." Patrick Brinn and his wife were * found 
 sunning themselves, and apparently unconcerned. 
 They had consumed the two children of Jacob Donner. 
 Mrs, Graves's body was lying there with almost all 
 the flesh cut away from her arms and limbs. Her 
 breasts, heart, and liver, were then being boiled on 
 the fire. Her child sat by the side of the mangled 
 remains, crying bitterly. After these emigrants had 
 been supplied with food, they were left to be con 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 261 
 
 ducted to the settlements by three men, while Messrs 
 F'My and Foster went on to the horrible Mountain 
 Camp. There mangled remains of bodies were found 
 strewed about the cabins, and among then) **+ the 
 emaciated survivors, who had fed upon human flesh, 
 and who then resembled demons. Kiesburg had de 
 voured Mr. Eddy's child, even when other food was to 
 be obtained, and the enraged father was with difficulty 
 restrained from killing him upon the spot. 
 
 The party of Messrs. Eddy and Foster, upon their 
 arrival at the Mountain Camp, found five living child 
 ren, to wit ; three of George Donner's, one of Jacob 
 Donner's, and one of Mrs. Murphy's. They also 
 found a man whose name is Clarke. He was a shoe 
 maker. 
 
 Clarke had gone out with Mr. Reed, under the pre 
 tence of assisting emigrants. He was found with a 
 pack of goods upon his back, weighing about forty- 
 pounds, and also two guns, about fco set off with his 
 booty. This man actually carried away this property 
 which weighed more than did a child he left behind to 
 perish. But this is not the only instance of the pro 
 perty of emigrants in distress being appropriated 
 under some pretence, or directly stolen by thieves 
 who prowled about the camp. 
 
 In addition to these, there were in camp, Mrs. Mur 
 phy, Mr. and Mrs. Donner, and Kiesburg the latter, 
 it was believed, having far more strength to trave 1 
 than others who had arrived in the settlements. But 
 
262 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 he would not travel, for the reason, as was suspected, 
 that he wished to remain behind for the purpose of 
 obtaining the property and money of the dead. 
 
 Mrs. George Donner was in good health, was some 
 what corpulent, and certainly able to travel. But her 
 husband was in a helpless condition, and she would 
 not consent to leave him while he survived. She ex 
 pressed her solemn and unalterable purpose, which no 
 clanger and peril could change, to remain, and perform 
 for him the last sad offices of duty and affection. She 
 manifested, however, the greatest solicitude for her 
 children ; and informed Mr. Eddy that she had fifteen 
 hundred dollars in silver, all of which she would give 
 to him, if he would save the lives of the children. He 
 informed her that he would not carry out one hundred 
 dollars for all that she had, but that he would save 
 the children, or perish in the attempt. 
 
 The party had no provisions to leave for the suste 
 nance of these unhappy and unfortunate beings. After 
 remaining about two hours, Mr. Eddy informed Mrs. 
 Donner that he was constrained by the force of cir 
 cumstances to depart. It was certain that George 
 Donner would never rise from the miserable bed 
 upon which he had lain down, worn out by toil, and 
 wasted by famine. It was next to absolutely certain, 
 if Mrs. Donner did not leave her husband, and avail 
 herself of the opportunity then presented for being 
 conducted into the settlement, that she would perish 
 by famine, or die a violent death at the hands of a 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 26 
 
 cannibal. The instinct of a mother strongly urged 
 her to. accompany her children, that she might be able 
 to contribute her own personal efforts and attention to 
 save the lives of her offspring. The natural love of 
 life, too, was without doubt then felt, urging her to 
 fly from a scene of so many horrors and dangers. Her 
 reason may have asked the question, " Why remain 
 in the midst of so much peril, and encounter an ine 
 vitable death a death of all others the most terrible 
 since it is certain that nothing can rescue your hus 
 band from the jaws of the all-devouring grave ? and 
 when you cannot hope to do better than beguile, with 
 your society, presence, and converse, the solitude of 
 the few hours that remain of a life, the flame of which 
 is absolutely flickering, and must in a very brief pe 
 riod be extinguished in the darkness and gloom of 
 death?" 
 
 A woman was probably never before placed in cir 
 cumstances of greater and more peculiar trial ; but 
 her duty and affection as a wife triumphed over all 
 her instincts and her reason. And when her husband 
 entreated her to save her life and leave him to die 
 alone, assuring her that she could be of no service to 
 him, since he would not probably survive, under any 
 circumstances, until the next morning, she bent over 
 him, and with streaming eyes kissed his pale, emaciated, 
 haggard, and even then, death-stricken cheeks, and 
 eaid : 
 
 " No ! no ! dear husband, I will remain with you 
 
264 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 and here perish, rather than leave you to die alone 
 with no one to soothe your dying sorrows, and to close 
 your eyes when dead. Entreat me not to leave you. 
 Life, accompanied with the reflection that I had thus 
 left you, would possess for me more than the bitter 
 ness of death ; and death would be sweet with the 
 thought, in my last moments, that I had assuaged one 
 pang of yours in your passage into eternity. No ! 
 no ! this once, dear husband, I will disobey you ! No ! 
 no ! no !" she continued sobbing convulsively. 
 
 The parting scene between the parents and children 
 is represented as being one that will never be forgotten, 
 as long as reason remains, or memory performs its 
 functions. My own emotions will not permit me to 
 attempt a description, which language, indeed, has 
 not the power to delineate. It is sufficient to say that 
 it was affecting beyond measure ; and that the last 
 words uttered by Mrs. Donner, in tears and sobs, to 
 Mr. Eddy, were, " 0, save! save my children !" 
 
 Mr. Eddy carried Georgiana Donner, who was about 
 six years old ; Hiram Miller carried Eliza Donner, 
 about four years old ; Mr. Thompson carried Frances 
 Ann Donner, about eight years old ; William Foster 
 carried Simon Murphy, eight years old ; and Clarke 
 carried his booty, and left a child of one of the Donnera 
 to perish. 
 
 After much toil and privation, this party reached 
 the settlements of California. The last of the sur 
 vivors of the Mountain Camp having been taken to 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 205 
 
 Bear river valley. The following was the result of 
 the inquiry as to those who perished and those who 
 were saved. 
 
 Those who perished were : C. F. Stanton ; Mr. 
 Graves ; Mrs. Graves ; Franklin Graves ; Jay Fos- 
 dick ; John Denton ; George Donner ; Mrs. Donner, 
 his wife ; Jacob Donner ; Betsy Donner ; Isaac Don 
 ner ; Louis Donner ; Samuel Donner ; Charles Burger ; 
 Joseph Rianhart ; Augustus Spitzer ; Samuel Shoe 
 maker ; James Smith ; Baylis Williams ; Bertha 
 Kiesburg ; Lewis Kiesburg ; Mrs. Murphy ; Lemuel 
 Murphy ; Lanthron Murphy ; George- Foster ; Catha 
 rine Pike ; Eleanor Eddy ; Margaret Eddy ; James 
 Eddy; Patrick Dolan ; Milton Elliot ; Lewis and Sal- 
 vadore, Captain Sutter's vaqueros. In all (including 
 two who died before reaching the Mountain Camp) 36. 
 
 The following survived: William Graves; Mary 
 Graves ; Ellen Graves ; Viney Graves ; Nancy Graves ; 
 Jonathan Graves ; Elizabeth Graves ; Sarah Fosdick ; 
 Loithy Donner; Leon Donner; Francis Donner; 
 Georgiana Donner ; Eliza Donner ; George Donner, 
 jr.; Mary Donner ; John Baptiste ; Solomon Hook ; 
 Mrs. Wolfinger ; Lewis Kiesburg ; Mrs. Kiesburg ; 
 William Foster ; Sarah Foster ; Simon Murphy ; Mary 
 Murphy ; Harriet Pike ; Miriam Pike ; Patrick Brinn , 
 Margaret Brinn ; John Brinn ; Edward Brinn ; Pat 
 rick Brinn, jr.; Simon Brinn ; James Brinn ; Peter 
 Brinn ; Isabella Brinn ; Eliza Williams ; Noah 
 James ; James F. Reed ; Virginia Reed ; Patty Reed j 
 
266 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 James Reed ; Thomas Reed ; William H. Eddy. In 
 all, 44. 
 
 Some of the unfortunate sufferers entirely lost their 
 reason. Of this number was Patrick Dolan at th 
 Camp of Death. His words were vague and uncon 
 nected. He struggled until he got out from under 
 the blankets. He called to Mr. Eddy, saying that he 
 was the only person of their number who could be de 
 pended upon. He then pulled off his boots, and, di 
 vesting himself of nearly all his clothing, he bade Mr. 
 Eddy follow him, and said that he would be in the 
 settlements in a few hours. He was with great diffi 
 culty brought under the blankets, and held there until 
 at length he became as quiet and submissive as a child ; 
 when he soon fell asleep, and expired. Lanthron 
 Murphy was of this number also. Mr. Foster was 
 likewise insane; but his insanity was of a totally dif 
 ferent character. He, in a considerable degree, rea 
 lized his situation, and in some respect was capable 
 of reasoning from cause to effect. Mr. Eddy was 
 probably the only really sane one of that party of 
 sixteen. With but few exceptions, all the sufferers, 
 both those who perished and those who survived, 
 manifested the same species of insanity as did Mr. 
 Foster. 
 
 ' Throughout the horrible scenes of this disastrous 
 expedition, the courage, devotion, and fortitude of 
 woman were gloriously illustrated. Amidst events 
 almost too frightful for thought, the wife was found 
 
WONDERFUL FORTITUDE OF FEMALE EMIGRANTS. 267 
 
 ready to sacrifice herself for her husband, and the 
 mother for her children. When the stoutest hearts 
 among the men sank under accumulating miseries, 
 women preserved an unmurmuring calmness, and an 
 unflinching energy. The genuine strength of human 
 creatures the power of soul over body was there 
 shown to be possessed in a greater degree by woman 
 than man and amid the savage winter of the wilder 
 ness, among horrid feasts, when to save themselves 
 from death, men became brutes, woman's true nobility 
 shone forth in all its splendor. The record of this 
 expedition will always have a thrilling interest on 
 account of the startling incidents ; but as a memorial 
 of what woman may endure and accomplish, it will 
 be more valuable. 
 
MISS WASHBUEN. 
 
 IN the following thrilling adventure of two scouts, 
 a, part was performed by a young girl, which did high 
 honor to her spirit and resolution. 
 
 As early as the year 1790, the block-house and 
 stockade, above the mouth of the Hockhocking river, 
 was a frontier post for the hardy pioneers of that por 
 tion of the state from the Hockhocking to the Scioto, 
 and from the Ohio to our northern Lakes. Then na 
 ture wore her undisturbed livery of dark and thick 
 forests, interspersed with green and flowery prairies. 
 Then the axe of the woodman had not been heard in 
 the wilderness, nor the plough of the husbandman 
 marred the business, of the green prairies. Among the 
 many rich and luxuriant valleys that of Hockhocking 
 was pre-eminent for nature's richest gifts and the 
 portion of it whereon Lancaster now stands, was marked 
 as the most luxuriant and picturesque, and became the 
 seat of an Indian village, at a period so early, that the 
 " memory of man runneth not parallel thereto." On 
 the green sward of the prairie was held many a rude 
 268 
 
MISS WASHBURN 269 
 
 gambol of the Indians ; and here too, was many an 
 assemblage of the warriors of one of the most powerful 
 tribes, taking counsel for a " war path" upon some 
 weak or defenceless frontier post. Upon one of these 
 war-stirring occasions, intelligence reached the little 
 garrison above the mouth of the Hockhockmg, that the 
 Indians were gathering in force somewhere up the 
 valley, for the purpose of striking a terrible and fatal 
 blow on one of the few and scattered defences of the 
 whites. A council was held by the garrison, and scouts 
 were sent up the Hockhocking, in order to ascertain 
 the strength of the foe, and the probable point of at 
 tack. In the month of October, and on one of the 
 balmiest days of our Indian summer, two men could 
 have been seen emerging out of the thick plumb and 
 hazel bushes skirting the prairie, and stealthily climbing 
 the eastern declivity of that most remarkable promon 
 tory, now known as Mount Pleasant, whose western 
 summit gives a commanding view to the eye of what ia 
 doing on the prairie. This eminence was gained by our 
 two adventurous and hardy scouts, and from this point 
 they carefully observed the movements taking place 
 on the prairie. Every day brought an accession of 
 warriors to those already assembled, and every day the 
 scouts witnessed from their eyrie, the horse-racing, 
 leaping, running and throwing the deadly tomahawk 
 by the warriors. The old sachems looking on with 
 indifference the squaws, for the most part, engaged 
 in their usual drudgeries, and the papooses manifesting 
 
270 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 all the noisy and wayward joy of childhood. The ar 
 rival of any new party of warriors was hailed by the 
 terrible war-whoop, which striking the mural face of 
 Mount Pleasant, was driven back into the various in 
 dentations of the surrounding hills, producing rever 
 beration on reverberation, and echo on echo, till it 
 seemed as if ten thousand fiends were gathered in their 
 orgies. Such yells might well strike terror into the 
 bosoms of those unaccustomed to them. To our scouts 
 these were but martial music strains which waked their 
 watchfulness, and strung their iron frames. From 
 their early youth had they been always on the frontier, 
 and therefore well practised in all the subtlety, craft 
 and cunning, as well as knowing the ferocity and blood 
 thirsty perseverance of the savage. They were there 
 fore not likely to be circumvented by the cunning of 
 their foes ; and without a desperate struggle, would 
 not fall victims to the scalping-knife. 
 
 On several occasions, small parties of warriors left 
 the prairies and ascended the Mount ; at which times 
 the scouts would hide in the fissures of the rocks, or 
 lying by the side of some long, prostrate tree, cover 
 themselves with the sear and yellow leaf, and again 
 leave their hiding-places when their uninvited visitors 
 had disappeared. For food they depended on jerked 
 venison, and cold corn bread, with which their knap 
 sacks had been well stored. Fire they dared not kindle, 
 and the report of one of their rifles would bring upon 
 them the entire force of the Indians. For drink they 
 
MISS WASHBURN. 271 
 
 depended on some rain water, which still stood in ex- 
 eavations of the rocks, but in a few days this stock 
 was exhausted, and M'Clelland and White must aban 
 don their enterprise, or find a new supply. To ac 
 complish this hazardous affair, M'Clelland being the 
 elder, resolved to make the attempt with his trusty 
 rifle in his grasp, and two canteens strung across his 
 shoulders, he cautiously descended to the prairie, and 
 skirting the hills on the north as much as possible 
 within the hazle thickets, he struck a course for the 
 Hockhocking river. JHe reached its margin, and turn 
 ing an abrupt point of a hill, he found a beautiful 
 fountain of limpid water, now known as the Cold 
 Spring, within a few feet of the river. He filled his 
 canteens and returned in safety to his watchful com 
 panion. It was now determined to have a fresh supply 
 of water every day, and this duty was to be performed 
 alternately. 
 
 On one of these occasions, after White had filled 
 his canteens, he sat a few moments watching the limpid 
 element, as it came gurgling out of the bosom of the 
 earth the light sound of footsteps caught his prac 
 tised ear, and, upon turning round, he saw two squaws 
 within a few feet of him ; these upon turning the jet 
 of the hill had thus suddenly come upon him. The 
 elder squaw gave one of those far-reaching whoops 
 peculiar to the Indians. White at once comprehended 
 his perilous situation for if the alarm should reach 
 tne camp, he and his companion must inevitably perish 
 
272 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 Self-preservation impelled him to inflict a noiselea*, 
 death upon the squaws, and in such a manner as to 
 leave no trace behind. Ever rapid in thought, and 
 prompt in action, he sprang upon his victims with the 
 rapidity and power of a panther, and grasping the 
 throat of each, with one bound he sprang into the 
 Hockhocking, and rapidly thrust the head of the elder 
 squaw under the water, and making strong efforts to 
 submerge the younger, who, however, powerfully re 
 sisted. During the short struggle, the younger female 
 addressed him in his own language, though almost in 
 inarticulate sounds. Releasing his hold, she informed 
 him, that ten years before, she had been made a pri 
 soner on Grave Creek flats, and that the Indians, in 
 her presence, butchered her mother and two sisters, 
 and that an only remaining brother, had been captured 
 with her, who succeeded on the second night in making 
 his escape ; but what had become of him she knew not. 
 During the narrative, White, unobserved by the girl, 
 had let go his grasp on the elder squaw, whose body 
 floated where it would not, probably, soon be found. 
 He now directed the girl hastily to follow him, and 
 with his usual energy and speed, pushed for the Mount. 
 They had scarcely gone two hundred yards from the 
 spring, before the alarm cry was heard some quarter 
 of a mile down the stream. It was supposed that some 
 warriors returning from a hunt, struck the Hock hock 
 ing just as the body of the drowned squaw floated past. 
 White and the girl succeeded in reaching the Mount, 
 
MISS WASHBURN. 273 
 
 where Mr. McClelland had been no indifferent spec 
 tator to the sudden commotion among the Indians, aa 
 the practising parties of warriors were seen to strike off 
 in every direction, and before White and the girl had 
 arrived, a party of some twenty warriors had already 
 gained the eastern acclivity of the Mount, ar^ were 
 cautiously ascending, carefully keeping under cover. 
 Soon the two scouts saw the swarthy faces of the foe, 
 as they glided from tree to tree, and rock to rock, 
 until the whole of the rock was surrounded, and all 
 hope of escape cut off. 
 
 In this peril nothing was left, other than to sell their 
 lives as dearly as they could ; this they resolved to do, 
 and advised the girl to escape to the Indians, and tell 
 them she had been a captive to the scouts. She said, 
 "no ! death, and that in presence of my people, is to me 
 a thousand times sweeter than captivity furnish me 
 with a rifle, and I will show you that I can fight as well 
 as die. This spot I leave not ! here my bones shall 
 lie bleaching with yours ! and should either of you es 
 cape, you will carry the tidings of my death to my re 
 maining relatives." Remonstrance proved fruitless ; 
 the two scouts matured their plans for a vigorous de 
 fence opposing craft to craft, expedient to expedient, 
 and an unerring fire of the deadly rifle. The attack 
 now commenced, in front, where, from the narrow 
 back bone of the Mount, the savages had to advance 
 in single file, but where they could avail themselves of 
 the rock and trees. In advancing the warrioi must 
 18 
 
274 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 be momentarily exposed, and two bare inches of his 
 swarthy form was target enough for the unerring rifle 
 of the scouts. After bravely maintaining the fight in 
 front, and keeping the enemy in check, they discovered 
 a new danger threatening them. The wary foe now 
 made every preparation to attack them in flank, which 
 could be most successively and fatally done by reach 
 ing an insulated rock lying in one of the ravines on 
 the southern hill side. This rock once gained by the 
 Indians, they could bring the scouts under point blank 
 shot of the rifle ; and without the possibility of escape. 
 Our brave scouts saw the hopelessness of their situ 
 ation, which nothing could avert but brave companions 
 and an unerring shot them they had not. But the 
 brave never despair. With this certain fate resting 
 upon them, they had continued as calm, and as calcu 
 lating, and as unwearied as the strongest desire of 
 vengeance on a treacherous foe could produce. Soon 
 M'Clelland saw a tall and swarthy figure preparing 
 to spring from a cover so near the fatal rock, that a 
 single bound must reach it, and all hope be destroyed. 
 He felt that all depended on one advantageous shot, 
 although but one inch of the warrior's body was ex 
 posed, and that at a distance of one hundred yards 
 he resolved to risk all coolly he raised his rifle to 
 his eye, carefully shading the sight with his hand, he 
 drew a bead so sure, that he felt conscious it would 
 do he touched the hair trigger with his finger the 
 bammer came down, but in place of striking fire, i* 
 
MISS WASHBURN. 275 
 
 crushed his flint into a hundred fragments ' Although 
 he felt that the savage must reach the fatal rock be 
 fore he could adjust another flint, he proceeded to the 
 task with the utmost composure, casting many a fur 
 tive giancc towards the fearful point. Suddenly he 
 saw the warrior stretching every muscle for the leap 
 and with the agility of a deer he made the spring 
 instead of reaching the rock he sprung ten feet in the 
 air, and giving one terrific yell he fell upon the earth 
 and his dark corpse rolled fifty feet down the hill. He 
 had evidently received a death shot from some unknown 
 hand. A hundred voices from below re-echoed the 
 terrible shout, and it was evident that they had lost a 
 favorite warrior, as well as been foiled for a time in 
 their most important movement. A very few moments 
 proved that the advantage so mysteriously gained would 
 be of short duration ; for already the scouts caught a 
 momentary glimpse of a swarthy warrior, cautiously 
 advancing towards the cover so recently occupied by 
 a fellow companion. Now, too, the attack in front was 
 resumed with increased fury, so as to require the in 
 cessant fire of both scouts, to prevent the Indians from 
 gaining the eminence and in a short time M'Clelland 
 saw the wary warrior turning a somerset, his corpse 
 rolled down towards his companion : again a myste 
 rious agent had interposed in their behalf. This second 
 sacrifice cast dismay into the ranks of the assailants 
 and just as the sun was disappearing behind the western 
 hills, the foe withdrew a short distance, for the pur- 
 
276 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 pose of devising new modes of attack. The respite 
 came most seasonably to the scouts, who had bravely 
 kept their position, and boldly maintained the unequal 
 fight from the middle of the day. 
 
 Now, for the first time was the girl missing, and the 
 scouts supposed that through terror she had escaped 
 to her former captors, or that she had been killed 
 during the fight. They were not .long left to doubt, 
 for in a few moments the girl was seen emerging from 
 the rock and coming to them with a rifle in her hand. 
 During the heat of the fight she saw a warrior fall, 
 who had advanced some fifty yards before the main 
 body in front. She at once resolved to possess her 
 self of his rifle, and crouching in undergrowth she 
 crept to the spot, and succeeded in her enterprise, be 
 ing all the time exposed to the cross fire of the de 
 fenders and assailants her practised eye had early 
 noticed the fatal rock, and hers was the mysterious 
 hand by which the two warriors had fallen the last 
 being the most wary, untiring and blood thirsty brave 
 of the Shawanese tribe. He it was, who ten years 
 before had scalped the family of the girl, and had 
 been her captor. In the west dark clouds were gather 
 ing, and in an hour the whole heavens were shrouded 
 in them ; this darkness greatly embarassed the scouts in 
 their contemplated night retreat, for they might 
 readily lose their way, or accidentally fall on the 
 enemy this being highly probable, if not inevitable. 
 An hour's consultation decided their plans, and it 
 
MISS WASHBURN. 277 
 
 was agreed that the girl, from her intimate knowledge 
 of their localities, should lead the advance a few steps. 
 Another advantage might be gained by this arrange 
 ment, for in case they should fall in with some out-post, 
 the girl's knowledge of the Indian tongue, would per 
 haps enable her to deceive the sentinel : and so the 
 sequel proved, for scarcely had they descended one 
 hundred feet, when a low " whist" from the girl, 
 warned them of present danger. The scouts sunk 
 silently to the earth, where by previous agreement, they 
 were to remain till another signal was given them by 
 the girl, whose absence for more than a quarter of an 
 hour now began to excite the most serious apprehen 
 sions. At length she again appeared, and told them 
 that she had succeeded in removing two sentinels who 
 were directly in their route to a point some hundred 
 feet distant. The descent was noiselessly resumed 
 the level gained, and the scouts followed their intrepid 
 pioneer for half a mile in the most profound silence, 
 when the barking of a small dog, within a few feet, 
 apprised them of a new danger. The almost simulta 
 neous click of the scouts' rifles was heard by the girl, 
 who rapidly approached them, and stated that they 
 were now in the midst of the Indian wigwams, and 
 their lives depended on the most profound silence, and 
 implicitly following her footsteps. A momc nt after 
 wards, the girl was accosted by a squaw from an opei>- 
 ing in a wigwam. She replied in the Indian language, 
 and without stopping pressed forward. In a shor 4 
 
278 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 time she stopped and assured the scouts that the vil 
 lage was cleared, and that they were now in safety. 
 
 She knew that every pass leading out of the prairie 
 was safely guarded by Indians, and at once resolved 
 to adopt the bold adventure of passing through the 
 very centre of their village as the least hazardous. 
 The result proved the correctness of her judgment. 
 They now kept a course for the Ohio, being guided 
 by the Hockhocking river and after three days march 
 and suffering, the party arrived at the block-house in 
 safety. 
 
 The courage, energy, and fortitude of the girl were 
 nobly displayed throughout the perilous scenes of the 
 fight and escape. She proved to be a sister of Neil 
 Washburn, one of the most renowned scouts upon the 
 frontier. She possessed her brother's spirit in the 
 delicate frame of a woman. 
 
 The escape of the party from the Indians deranged 
 the plan of attack upon the fort, and compelled the 
 savages to return to their homes without having effected 
 any thing of importance. 
 
THE HUNTER'S WIFE. 
 
 THE following story appeared in " Chamber's Edin 
 burgh Journal," in June, 1851. We are ignorant of 
 its original source. 
 
 Tom Cooper was a fine specimen of the North 
 American trapper. Slightly but powerfully made, 
 with a hardy, weather-beaten, yet handsome face, 
 strong, indefatigable, and a crack shot, he was admi 
 rably adapted for a hunter's life. For manj" years 
 he knew not what it was to have a home, but lived 
 like the beasts he hunted wandering from one part 
 of the country to the other in pursuit of game. All 
 who knew Tom were much surprised when he came, 
 with a pretty young wife, to settle within three miles 
 of a planter's farm. Many pitied the poor young crea 
 ture, who would have to lead such a solitary life ; 
 whilst others said ; " If she was fool enough to marry 
 him it was her own look-out." For nearly four months 
 Tom remained at home, and employed his time in 
 making the old hut he had fixed on for their residence 
 
 (279) 
 
280 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 more couffortable. He cleared and tilled a small spot 
 of land around it, and Susan began to hope that for 
 her sake he would settle down quietly as a squatter. 
 But these visions of happiness were soon dispelled, for 
 as soon as this work was finished he recommenced his 
 old erratic mode of life, and was often absent for week? 
 together, leaving his wife alone, yet not unprotected, 
 for since his marriage, old Nero, a favorite hound, 
 was always left at home as her guardian. He was a 
 noble dog a cross between the old Scottish deer 
 hound and the bloodhound and would hunt an In 
 dian as well as a deer or bear, which Tom said, " was 
 a proof they Ingins was a sort o' varmint, or why 
 should the brute beast take to hunt 'em, nat'ral like 
 him that took no notice of white men ?" 
 
 One clear, cold morning, about two years after their 
 marriage, Susan was awakened by a loud crash, im 
 mediately succeeded by Nero's deep baying. She 
 recollected that she had shut him in the house as usual 
 the night before. Supposing he had winded some 
 solitary wolf or bear prowling around the hut, and 
 effected his escape, she took little notice of the cir 
 cumstance ; but a few moments after came a shrill, 
 wild cry, which made her blood run cold. To spring 
 from her bed, throw on her clothes, and rush from the 
 hut, was the work of a minute. She no longer doubted 
 what the hound was. in pursuit of. Fearful thoughts 
 shot through her brain ; she called wildly on Nero, 
 and to her joy he came dashing through the thick un 
 
HE HUNTER'S WIFE. 281 
 
 derwood. As the dog drew near she saw that he gal- 
 lopped heavily, and carried in his mouth some large 
 dark creature. Her brain reeled ; she felt a cold and 
 sickly shudder dart through her limhs. But Susan 
 was a hunter's daughter, and all her life had been 
 accustomed to witness scenes of danger and of horror, 
 and in this school had learned to subdue the natural 
 timidity of her character. With a powerful effort she 
 recovered herself, just as Nero dropped at her feet 
 a little Indian child, apparently between three and 
 four years old. She bent down over him, but there 
 was no sound or motion ; she placed he** hand on his 
 little naked chest ; the heart within had ceased to beat, 
 he was dead ! The deep marks of the dog's fangs 
 were visible on the neck, but the body was untorn. 
 Old Nero stood with his large bright eyes fixed on the 
 face of his mistress, fawning on her, as if he expected 
 to be praised for what he had done, and seemed to 
 wonder why she looked so terrified. But Susan 
 spurned him from her ; and the fierce animal, who 
 would have pulled down an Indian as he would a deer, 
 crouched humbly at the young woman's feet. Susan 
 carried the little body gently to the hut, and laid it 
 on her own bed. Her first impulse was to seize a 
 loaded rifle that hung over the fireplace, and shoot the 
 hound ; and yet she felt she could not do it, for in 
 the lone life she led, the faithful animal seemed like a 
 dear arid valued friend, who loved and watched over 
 her, as if aware of the precious charge entrusted to 
 
282 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 him. She thought also of what her husband would 
 say, when on his return he should find his old com 
 panion dead. Susan had never seen Tom roused. To 
 her he had ever shown nothing but kindness ; yet she 
 feared as well as loved him, for there was a fire in 
 .those dark eyes which told of deep, wild passions hid 
 den in his breast, and she knew that the lives of a 
 whole tribe of Indians would be light in the balance 
 against that of his favorite hound. 
 
 Having securely fastened up Nero, Susan, with a 
 heavy heart, proceeded to examine the ground around 
 the hut. In several places she observed the impression 
 of a small moccasoned foot, but not a child's. The 
 tracks were deeply marked, unlike the usual light, 
 elastic tread of an Indian. From this circumstance, 
 Susan easily inferred that the woman had been carry 
 ing her child when attacked by the dog. There was 
 nothing to show why she had come so near the hut ; 
 most probably the hopes of some petty plunder had 
 been the inducement. Susan did not dare to wander 
 far from home, fearing a band of Indians might be in 
 the neighborhood. She returned sorrowfully to the 
 hut, and employed herself in blocking up the window, 
 or rather the hole where the window had been, for 
 the powerful hound had in his leap dashed out the 
 entire frame, and shattered it to pieces. When this was 
 finished, Susan dug a grave, and in it laid the little 
 Indian boy. She made it close to the hut, for she 
 could not bear that wolves should devour those deli- 
 
THE HUNTER'S WIFE. 283 
 
 cate limbs, and she knew there it would be safe. The 
 next day Tom returned. He had been very unsuc 
 cessful, and intended setting out again JP a few days 
 in a different direction. 
 
 " Susan," he said, when he had heard her sad story, 
 " I wish you'd lef the child where the dog killed him. 
 The squaw's high sartan to come back a-seekin' for 
 the body, a^d 'tis a pity the poor crittur should be 
 disapinted. Besides, the Ingins will be high sartan 
 to put it down to us ; whereas if so be as they'd found 
 the body, 'pon the spot, maybe they'd onderstand 
 as 'twas an accident like, for they're unkimmon 
 cunning warmints, though they a'nt got sense like 
 Christians." 
 
 " Why do you think the poor woman came here ?" 
 said Susan. " I never knew an Indian squaw so near 
 the hut before." 
 
 She fancied a dark shadow flitted across her hus 
 band's brow. He made no reply ; and on her repeat 
 ing the question, said angrily how should he know ? 
 'Twas as well to ask for a bear's reasons as an Ingin's. 
 
 Tom only stayed at home long enough to mend the 
 broken window, and plant a small spot of Indian corn, 
 and then again set out, telling Susan not 'to expect 
 him home in less than a month. " If that squaw comes 
 this way agin," he said, " as maybe she will, jist put 
 any broken victuals you've a-got, for the poor crittur ; 
 though maybe she wont come, for they Ingins be on 
 kimmon skeary." Susan wondered at his taking au 
 
284 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 interest in the woman, and often thought of that dark 
 look she had noticed, and Tom's unwillingness to speak 
 on the subject. She never knew that on his last hunting 
 expedition, when hiding some skins which he intended 
 to fetch on his return, he had observed an Indian 
 watching him, and had shot him with as little mercy 
 as he would have shown a wolf. On Tom's return to 
 the spot, the body was gone ; and in the soft damp 
 soil was the mark of an Indian squaw's foot, and by 
 its side a little child's. He was sorry then for the 
 deed he had done ; he thought of the grief of the poor 
 widow, and how it would be possible for her to live 
 until she could reach her tribe, who were far, far dis 
 tant, at the foot of the Rocky Mountains ; and now to 
 feel that through his means, too, she had lost her child, 
 put thoughts into his mind that had never before found 
 a place there. He thought that one God had formed 
 the Red Man as well as the White of the souls of 
 the many Indians hurried into eternity by his uneriing 
 rifle ; and they perhaps were more fitted for their 
 " happy hunting-grounds" than he was for the white 
 man's heaven. In this state of mind, every word his 
 wife had said to him seemed to him a reproach, and 
 he was glad again to be alone in the forest with his 
 rifle and his hounds. 
 
 The afternoon of the third day after Tom's depar 
 ture, as Susan was sitting at work, she heard some 
 thing scratching and whining at the door. Nero, who 
 was by her side, evinced no sign of anger, but ran to 
 
THE HUNTER'S WIFE. 285 
 
 the door, showing his white teeth, as was his custom 
 when pleased. Susan unbarred it, when to her asto 
 nishment, the two deerhounds her husband had taken 
 with him walked into the hut, looking weary and soiled. 
 At first she thought Tom might have killed a deer not 
 far from home, and had brought her a fresn supply of 
 venison ; but no one was there. Sfce rushed from the 
 hut, and soon, breathless and terrified, reached the 
 squatter's cabin. John Wilton and his three sons 
 were just returned from the clearings, when Susan 
 ran into their comfortable kitchen ; her long black 
 hair streaming on her shoulders, and her wild arid 
 bloodshot eyes, gave her the appearance of a maniac. 
 In a few unconnected words, she explained to them 
 the cause of her terror, and implored them to set off 
 immediately in search of her husband. It was in vain 
 they told her of the uselessness of going at that time 
 of the impossibility of following a trail in the dark. 
 She said she would go herself; she felt sure of finding 
 him ; and at last they were obliged to use force to 
 prevent her leaving the house. 
 
 The next morning at daybreak, Wilton and his two 
 sons were mounted, and ready to set out, intending 
 to take Nero with them ; but nothing could induce him 
 to leave his mistress ; he resisted passively for some 
 time, until one of the young men attempted to pass a 
 rope round his neck, to drag him away : then his for 
 bearance vanished ; he sprung on his tormentor, threw 
 him f 1 wn, and would have strangled him, if Susan 
 
280 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 had not been present. Finding it impossible to make 
 Nero accompany them, they left without him, but had 
 not proceeded many miles before he and his mistress 
 were at their side. They begged Susan to return, 
 told her of the hardships she must endure, and of the 
 inconvenienoe she would be to them. It was of no 
 avail ; she had but one answer : "I am a hunter'a 
 wife, and a hunter's daughter." She told them that 
 knowing how useful Nero would be to them in their 
 search, she had secretly taken a horse and followed 
 them. 
 
 The party first rode to Tom Cooper's hut, and there 
 having dismounted, leading their horses through the 
 forest, followed the trail, as only men long accustomed 
 to a savage life can do. At night they lay on the 
 ground, covered with their thick bear-skin cloaks ; 
 for Susan only they heaped up a bed of dry leaves ; 
 but she refused to occupy it, saying it was her duty 
 to bear the same hardships they did. Ever since their 
 departure she had shown no sign of sorrow. Although 
 slight and delicately formed, she never appeared fa 
 tigued ; her whole soul was absorbed in one longing 
 desire to find her husband's body ; for from the first 
 she had abandoned the hope of ever again seeing him 
 in life. This desire supported her through every thing. 
 Early the next morning they were again on the trail. 
 About noon, as they were crossing a small brook, the 
 hound suddenly dashed away from, and was lost in 
 the thicket. At first they fancied they might have 
 
THE HUNTER'S WIFE. 287 
 
 crossed the track of a deer or wolf; but a long mourn 
 ful howl soon told the sad truth, for not far from the 
 brook lay the faithful dog on the body of his master, 
 which was pierced to the heart by an Indian arrow. 
 
 The murderer had apparently been afraid to ap 
 proach on account of the dogs, for the body was left 
 as it had fallen not even the rifle was gone. No 
 sign of Indians could be discovered save one small 
 footprint, which was instantly pronounced to be that 
 of a squaw. Susan showed no grief at the sight of 
 the body ; she maintained the same forced calmness, 
 and seemed comforted that it was found. Old Wilton 
 stayed with her to remove all that now remained of 
 her darling husband, and his two sons again set out 
 on the trail, which soon led them into the open prairie, 
 where it was easily traced through the tall thick grass. 
 They continued riding that afternoon, and the next 
 morning were again on the track, which they followed 
 to the banks of a wide but shallow stream. There they 
 saw the remains of a fire. One of them thrust his hand 
 in the ashes, which were still warm. They crossed the 
 river, and in the soft sand on the opposite bank saw 
 again the print of a small moccasoned footsteps. Here 
 they were at a loss ; for the rank prairie grass had 
 been consumed by one of those fearful fires so common 
 in the prairies, and in its stead grew short sweet 
 herbage, where even an Indian's eye could observe no 
 trace. They were on the point of abandoning the 
 pursuit, when Richard, the younger of the two, called 
 
288 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 his brother's attention to Nero, who had of his own 
 accord left his mistress to accompany them, as if he 
 now understood what they were about. The hound 
 was trotting to and fro, with his nose to the ground, 
 as if endeavoring to pick out a cold scent. Edward 
 laughed at his brother, and pointed to the track of a 
 deer that had come to drink at the river. At last he 
 agreed to follow Nero, who was now cantering slowly 
 across the prairie. The pace gradually increased, 
 until, on a spot where the grass had grown more luxu 
 riantly than elsewhere, Nero threw up his nose, gave 
 a deep bay, and started off at a furious pace, that 
 although well mounted, they had great difficulty in 
 keeping up with him. 
 
 It was not long before the dog brought them to the 
 borders of another forest, where, finding it impossible 
 to *ake their horses farther, they fastened them to a 
 tree, and set off again on foot. They lost sight of the 
 hound, but still from time to time they heard his loud 
 baying far away. At last they fancied it sounded 
 nearer instead of becoming less and distinct ; and 
 of this they were soon convinced. They still went on 
 in the direction whence the sound proceeded, until 
 they saw Nero sitting with his forepaws against the 
 trunk of a tree, no longer mouthing like a well-trained 
 hound, but yelling like a fury^ They looked up in a 
 tree, but could see nothing ; until at last Edward 
 espied a large hollow about half way up the trunk. 
 " I was right, you see," he said. " After all it is only 
 
THE HUNTER'S WIFE. 28S 
 
 a bear ; but we may as well shoot the brute that has 
 given us so much trouble." 
 
 They set to work immediately with their axes to 
 fell the tree. It began to totter, when a dark object, 
 they could not tell what in the dim twilight, crawled 
 from its place of concealment to the extremity of a 
 branch, and from thence sprung into the next tree. 
 Snatching up their rifles, they both fired together ; 
 when to their astonishment, instead of a bear, a young 
 Indian squaw, with a loud yell, fell to the ground. 
 They ran to the spot where she lay motionless, and 
 carried her to the borders of the wood where they 
 had that morning dismounted. Richard lifted her on 
 his horse, and springing himself into the saddle, car 
 ried the almost lifeless body before him. The poor 
 creature never spoke. Several times they stopped, 
 thinking she was dead ; her pulse only told the spirit 
 had not flown from its earthly tenement. "Wlien they 
 reached the river which had been crossed by them 
 before, they washed the wounds, and sprinkled water 
 on feer face. This appeared to revive her ; and when 
 Richard again lifted her in his arms to place her on 
 his horse, 'he fancied he heard her utter in Iroquois. 
 one word " revenged !" 
 
 It was a strange sight, these two powerful men 
 tending so carefully the being they had a few hours 
 before sought to slay, and endeavoring to staunch the 
 blood that flowed from the wound they had made ! 
 Yet so it was. It would have appeared to them a 
 19 
 
290 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 sin to leave the Indian woman to die ; yet they fel 
 no remorse at having inflicted the wound, and would 
 have been better pleased had it been mortal ; but they 
 would not have murdered a wounded enemy, even an 
 Indian warrior, still less a squaw. The party con 
 tinued their journey until midnight when they stopped 
 to rest their jaded horses. Having wrapped the squaw 
 in their bear-skins, they lay down themselves with no 
 covering save the clothes they wore. They were in 
 no want of provisions, as not knowing when they might 
 return, they had taken a good supply of bread and 
 dried venison, not wishing to lose any precious time 
 in seeking food whilst on the trail. .The brandy, still 
 remaining in their flasks, they preserved for the use 
 of their captive. The evening of the following day 
 they reached the trapper's hut, where they were not 
 a little surprised to find Susan. She told them that 
 although John Wilton had begged her to live with 
 them, she could not bear to leave the spot where every 
 thing reminded her of one to think of whom was now 
 her only consolation, and that whilst she had Nero, 
 she feared nothing. They needed not to tell their 
 mournful tale Susan already understood it but too 
 clearly. She begged them to leave the Indian woman 
 with her. "You have no one," she said, "to tend 
 and watch her as I can do ; besides, it is not right 
 that I should lay such a burden on you." Although 
 unwilling to impose on her the painful task of nursing 
 her husband's murderess, they could not but allow sho 
 
THE HUNTER S WIFE. 291 
 
 was right ; and seeing how earnestly she desired it, at 
 last consented to leave the Indian woman with her. 
 
 For many long weeks, Susan nursed her charge as 
 tenderly as if she had been her sister. At first she 
 lay almost motionless, and rarely spoke ; then she grew 
 delirious, and raved wildly. Susan, fortunately, could 
 not understand what she said, but often turned shud- 
 deringly away, when the Indian woman would strive 
 to rise from her bed, and move her arms as if drawing 
 a bow ; or yell wildly, and cower in terror beneath 
 the clothes, reacting in her delirium the fearful scenes 
 through which she had passed. By degrees reason 
 returned ; she gradually got better, but seemed rest 
 less and unhappy, and could not bear the sight of Nero. 
 The first proof of returning reason she had shown 
 was to shriek in terror when he once accidentally 
 followed his mistress into the room where she lay. 
 One morning Susan missed her ; she searched around 
 the hut, but she was gone, without having taken fare 
 well of her kind benefactress. 
 
 A few years after Susan Cooper (no longer " pretty 
 Susan," for time and grief had done their work) heard 
 late one night a hurried knock, which was repeated 
 several times before she could unfasten the door, each 
 time more loudly than before. She called to ask who 
 it was at that hour of the night. A few hurried words 
 in Iroquois were the. reply, and Susan congratulated 
 herself on having spoken before unbarring the door , 
 But on listening again, she distinctly heard the same 
 
292 HEROIC WOMEN OP THE WEST. 
 
 voice say, " Quick quick !" and recognised it as the 
 Indian woman's whom she had nursed. The door wag 
 instantly opened, when the squaw rushed into the hut, 
 seized Susan by the arm, and made signs to her tc 
 come away. She was too much excited to remember 
 then the few words of English she had picked up when 
 living with the white woman. Expressing her mean 
 ing by gestures w T ith a clearness peculiar to the In 
 dians, she dragged rather than led Susan from the hut. 
 They had just reached the edge of the forest when 
 the wild yells of the Indians sounded in their ears. 
 Having gone with Susan a little way into the forest 
 her guide left her. For nearly four hours she lay there 
 half-dead with cold and terror, not daring to move 
 from her place of concealment. She saw the flames 
 of the dwelling, where so many lonely hours had been 
 passed, rising above the trees, and heard 'the shrill 
 " whoops" of the retiring Indians. Nero, who was 
 lying by her side, suddenly rose and gave a loud growl. 
 Silently a dark figure came gliding among the trees 
 directly to the spot where she lay. She gave her 
 self up for lost ; but it was the Indian woman who 
 came to her, and dropped at her feet a bag of money, 
 the remains of her late husband's savings. The grate 
 ful creature knew where it was kept ; and whilst the 
 Indians were busied examining the rifles and other 
 objects more interesting to them, had carried it off un 
 observed. Waving her arm around to show that all was 
 
THE HUNTER'S WIFE. 293 
 
 now quiet, she pointed in the direction of Wilton's 
 house, and was again lost among the trees. 
 
 Day was just breaking when Susan reached the 
 squatter's cabin. Having heard the sad 'story, Wilton 
 and two of his sons started immediately for the spot. 
 Nothing was to be seen save a heap of ashes. The 
 party had apparently consisted of only three or four 
 Indians ; but a powerful tribe being in the neighbor 
 hood, they saw that it would be too hazardous to 
 follow them. From this time Susan lived with the 
 Wiltons. She was as a daughter to the old man, and 
 a sister to his sons, who often said : " That, as far as 
 they were concerned, the Indians had never done a 
 kindlier action than in burning down Susan Cooper's 
 hut," 
 
MRS. JORDAN'S CAPTIVITY. 
 
 NARRATED BY HERSELF. 
 
 " ON the night of 22d January, 1807, we were sud 
 denly awakened from slumber by the hideous yells of 
 the savages, who, before we could put ourselves in a 
 situation to oppose them, succeeded in forcing the 
 doors of the house. They were, to the number of 
 forty or fifty, frightfully painted, and armed with to 
 mahawks and scalping knives. My husband met them 
 at the door, and in their own tongue asked them what 
 they wanted " The scalps of your family !" was their 
 answer. My husband entreated them to have compas 
 sion on me and his innocent children, but his entrea 
 ties availed nothing ; we were dragged naked out of 
 the house, and tied severally with cords. By order 
 of one, who appeared to be a chief, about twenty of 
 the Indians took charge of us, who were ordered to 
 conduct us with all possible dispatch to their settlement, 
 about two hundred miles distant, while the remainder 
 were left to pillage and fire the house. We commenced 
 our journey about midnight, though an uncultivated 
 (294) 
 
MRS. JORDAN'S CAPTIVITY. 295 
 
 wilderness, at the rate nearly seven miles an hour. If 
 either of us, through fatigue, slacked our pace, we were 
 most inhumanly beaten and threatened with instant 
 death. 
 
 " After a tedious travel of more than forty miles, 
 the savages halted in a swamp ; here for the first 
 time, from the time of our departure, we were per 
 mitted to lie down the Indians kindled a fire, on 
 which they broiled some bear's flesh, of which they 
 allowed us but a small portion. 
 
 " After they had refreshed themselves and extin 
 guished the fire, we were again compelled to pursue 
 our journey. We travelled until sunset, when the In 
 dians again halted and began to prepare a covering 
 for themselves for the night. My poor children com 
 plained much of their feet being swollen, but I was not 
 permitted to give them any relief, nor was their father 
 allowed to discourse with them. As night approached, 
 we shook each other by the hand, expecting never 
 again to witness the rising of the sun. Contrary to 
 our expectations, however, we had a tolerable night's 
 rest, and on the succeeding day, though naked and 
 half starved, travelled with much more ease than on the 
 preceding one. The Indians occasionally allowed us a 
 little raw food, sufficient only to keep us alive ; we 
 this day travelled, according to the reckoning of the 
 Indians, nearly forty miles, and were, about sunset, 
 joined by the remaining savages who were left behind j 
 f 'iey were loaded with the spoils of my husband's pro- 
 
296 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 perty ; among other articles they had a keg of spirits 
 of which they had drank plentifully, and as they be 
 came intoxicated, they exercised the more cruelty to 
 wards us they beat my poor children so unmercifully 
 that they were unable to stand upon their feet the 
 ensuing morning the Indians attributed their ina 
 bility to wilfulness, and again renewed their acts of 
 barbarity, beating them with clubs, cutting and gash 
 ing them with their knives and scorching their naked 
 bodies with brands of fire. Finding that their hellish 
 plans had no other effect than to render the poor un 
 happy sufferers less able to travel, they came to the 
 resolution to butcher them on the spot. 
 
 " Six holes were dug in the earth, of about five feet 
 in depth, around each of which some dried branches 
 of trees were placed. My husband at this moment, 
 filled with horror at what he expected was about to 
 take place, broke the rope with which he was bound, 
 and attempted to escape from the hands of the un 
 merciful cannibals he was, however, closely pursued, 
 soon overtaken and brought back as he passed me, 
 he cast his eyes towards me and fainted in this situa 
 tion he was placed erect in one of the holes. The 
 woods now resounded with the heart-piercing cries of 
 my poor children i spare, spare my father,' was 
 their cry 'have mercy on my poor children!' was 
 the cry of their father ; but all availed nothing my 
 dear children were all placed in a situation similar to 
 that of their father the youngest (only nine years 
 
MRS. JORDAN'S CAPTIVITY. 297 
 
 old) broke from them and ran up to me, crying, < don't 
 mamma, mamma, don't let them kill me !' 
 
 " Alas, Heavens, what could I do ? In vain did 
 I beg of them to let me take my dear child's place ! 
 by force it was torn from me. 
 
 ' Maving placed the poor unfortunate victims li 
 the manner above described, they secured them in a 
 standing position by replacing the earth, which buried 
 them nearly to their necks ! The inhuman wretches 
 now began their hideous pow-wows, dancing to and 
 fro around the victims of their torture, which they 
 continued about a half an hour, when they communi 
 cated fire to the fatal piles ! As the flames increased, 
 shrieks and dying groans of my poor family were the 
 heightened ! thank heaven ! their sufferings was of 
 short duration ; in less than a quarter of an hour from 
 the time the fire was first communicated, their cries 
 ceased, and they sunk into the arms of their kind 
 deliverer. 
 
 " The callous-hearted wretches having sufficiently 
 feasted their eyes with the agonies of the unfortunate 
 sufferers, retired to regale themselves with what liquor 
 remained ; they drank freely, and soon became stupid 
 and senseless. With one of their tomahawks I might 
 with ease have dispatched them all, but my only de 
 sire was to flee from them as quick as possible. I suc 
 ceeded with difficulty in liberating myself by cutting 
 the cord with which I was bound, on which I bent my 
 course for this place. A piece of bear's flesh, which 
 
298 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 I fortunately found in one of the Indian's packs, served 
 me for food. I travelled only by night, in the day 
 time concealing myself in the thick swamps or hollow 
 trees. A party of Indians passed within a few rods 
 of the place of my concealment the second day after 
 my departure, but did not discover me ; they were 
 undoubtedly of the same party from whom I had es 
 caped, in pursuit of me. Two days after, I was met 
 by an Indian of the Shawanese without his assistance 
 I must have again fallen into the hands of my foes." 
 
CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS OF 
 THE GILBERT FAMILY 
 
 BENJAMIN GILBERT was the owner and occupier of a 
 farm, situated on Mahoning creek, in Penn Township, 
 Northampton county, Pennsylvania, not far from where 
 Fort Allen was built. The improvements he had made, 
 were such as were of great value in a new settlement. 
 They were, besides a convenient log-house, and log- 
 barn, a saw-mill and commodious stone grist-mill. 
 But from this scene of comfort, the backwoodsman, 
 with his family, was destined to be torn away ; and 
 the improvements, erected at great cost, and with much 
 difficulty, upon the borders of the wilderness, were 
 scarcely completed, when they were doomed to the 
 flames. 
 
 On the 25th day of April, 1780, about sunrise, the 
 family were alarmed by a party of Indians, who came 
 upon them so suddenly, that to have attempted to 
 escape would have been useless. Their only chance 
 of saving their lives was to surrender. Without re- 
 
 (299) 
 
300 HEROIC WOMEN OS 1 THE WEST. 
 
 sistance they therefore gave themselves up to their 
 savage foes, hoping, yet scarcely expecting, to escape 
 from death by being carried off to endure the horrors 
 of an Indian captivity. 
 
 The Indians who made this incursion were of diffe 
 rent tribes, who had abandoned their country upon the 
 approach of General Sullivan's army, and fled within 
 command of the British forts in Canada, settling 
 promiscuously within their neighborhood, and, accord 
 ing to Indian custom, carrying on war, frequently in 
 vading the frontier settlements, and taking captive the 
 surprised and defenceless inhabitants. The present 
 party consisted of two half-breeds, descended from a 
 Mohawk and French woman, three Cayugas, one Del 
 aware, and five Senecas in all eleven. The two 
 Mohawk half-breeds, whose names were Rowland 
 Monteur and John Monteur, seemed to have command 
 of the party. 
 
 The prisoners taken at the house of Mr. Gilbert were, 
 himself, his wife, his sons Joseph, Jesse and Abner, 
 his daughters Rebecca and Elizabeth, his daughter-in- 
 law, Sarah Gilbert, wife of his son Jesse, Thomas 
 Peart, a son of Mrs. Gilbert by a former husband, 
 Benjamin Gilbert, jr., a grandson, Andrew Harrigar, 
 a German laborer in the employment of Mr. Gilbert, 
 and Abigail Dodson, a girl about fourteen years of 
 age, who had been sent that morning by one of the 
 neighbors with a grist to the mill. 
 
 With these captives the Indians proceeded abou 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 301 
 
 half a mile to the house of Benjamin Peart, (another 
 son of Mrs. Gilbert,) whom, with his wife and their 
 child, about nine months old, they also captured. 
 
 The prisoners were here bound with cords, and left 
 under a guard for half an hour, during which time the 
 rest of the Indians employed themselves in pillaging 
 the house, and packing up such goods as they chose 
 to carry off, until they had got together a sufficient 
 loading for three horses, which they took. This com 
 pleted, they began their retreat, two of their number 
 being detached to fire the buildings. From an emi 
 nence called Summer Hill, which they passed over, 
 the captives could observe the flames and the falling 
 in of the roofs of the houses. They cast back a sor 
 rowful look towards their dwellings, but were not per 
 mitted to stop until they had reached the further side 
 of the hill, where the party sat down to make a short 
 repast ; but grief prevented the prisoners from eating. 
 
 The Indians speedily put forward again not being 
 so far removed from the settlement as to be secure 
 from pursuit. A little further on was a hill, called 
 Machunk, where they halted nearly an hour, and 
 prepared moccasons for some of the children. 
 
 Resuming their journey, they passed over another 
 steep hill, and in a short time they reached Broad 
 Mountain, the prisoners wearied and almost exhausted. 
 Mrs. Gilbert, who was nearly sixty years of age, be 
 lieving herself unable to make the ascent cf this moun 
 tain on foot, sat down in weariness of body and in 
 
 26 
 
302 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 anguish of spirit, declaring she could proceed no far 
 ther. But being threatened by the Indians with 
 instant death, if she delayed them in their journey, 
 she was compelled to make her toilsome way up th 
 mountain, nearly fainting at every step. Having 
 reached the summit, the captives were permitted to 
 rest for about an hour. The Broad Mountain is said 
 to be seven miles across, and about ten miles from 
 Gilbert's settlement. 
 
 Leaving Broad Mountain, they struck. into Neska- 
 peck path, which they followed the remainder of the 
 day, crossing Quackac creek, and passing over Pis 
 mire Hill, and through the Moravian Pine Swamp, to 
 Mahoniah Mountain, where they lodged that night. 
 The prisoners were allowed, for beds, branches of 
 hemlock strewed on the ground, and blankets for 
 covering an indulgence scarcely to have been ex 
 pected from their savage captors. To prevent their 
 escape, however, a contrivance was resorted to that 
 completely marred the little comfort they might other 
 wise have enjoyed. A sapling about the thickness of 
 a man's thigh was cut down, in which notches were 
 made ; the legs of the prisoners were then placed in 
 notches, and another sapling placed over the first and 
 made fast ; a cord was also put about their necks and 
 fastened to a tree ; thus effectually confining them, in 
 this stretched-out position, all night upon their backs. 
 
 Early the next morning they continued their route 
 the waters of terrapin ponds. The Indians that 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 303 
 
 day deemed it best to separate in companies of two, 
 each under the command of a particular Indian, 
 spreading them to a considerable distance, in order to 
 render a pursuit as nearly impracticable as possible. 
 During the day, the Indian under whose direction 
 Benjamin Gilbert and his wife were placed, frequently 
 threatened them with instant death, whenever from 
 fatigue they began to lag in the journey. Towards 
 evening the parties again met and encamped. Having 
 killed a deer, they kindled a fire and roasted the flesh, 
 each man holding a piece of it over the coals or in the 
 flame, by means of pointed sticks. The confinement 
 of the prisoners was similar to that which they endured 
 the night before. 
 
 After breakfast the next morning, a council was 
 held concerning the division of the prisoners. An 
 allotment being made, they were delivered to their 
 several masters, with instructions to obey the com 
 mands of the particular Indian whose property they 
 became. In this day's journey they passed near Fort 
 Wyoming, on the eastern branch of the Susquehanna, 
 about forty miles from their late habitation. The In 
 dians were alarmed as they approached this garrison, 
 and observed great caution, suffering not the least 
 unnecessary noise, and stepping on the stones that lay 
 on the path, lest any footsteps should lead to a dis 
 covery. The night was spent on the banks of a stream 
 emptying itself into the Susquehanna, not far distant 
 from the fort. On the following morning the prisoners 
 
304 HEKOIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 were all painted, according to Indian custom, soma 
 of them with red and black, some all red, and ethers 
 with black only. Those whom they painted black, 
 without the mixture of any other color, are in most 
 cases devoted to death; and though they are not 
 usually killed immediately, they are seldom preserved 
 to reach the Indian hamlets alive. In the evening of 
 this day, they came to the Susquehanna, having had 
 a painful and wearisome journey over a very stony and 
 hilly country. Here the Indians were more than 
 ordinarily careful in seeking a secluded lodging-place, 
 chat they might be as secure as possible from any 
 scouting parties of the white people. In the night 
 their horses strayed away from them, and it was late 
 the next morning before they found them and were 
 ready to proceed on their journey. Their course lay 
 along the river. In the afternoon they came to a 
 place where the Indians had left four negroes, with a 
 supply of corn for their subsistence, waiting their re 
 turn. These negroes had escaped from their masters, 
 and were on their way to Niagara when first dis 
 covered by the Indians. Being challenged by the 
 latter, they said they " were for the king," upon which 
 they were received into protection. 
 
 It was not to the comfort of the prisoners that these 
 negroes were added to the company. They manifested 
 an insolence and domineering spirit which were almost 
 intolerable, frequently insulting the captives, whipping 
 them in mere wantonness and sport, and in all respects 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 305 
 
 treating them with more severity than the Indians did 
 themselves. 
 
 On the 1st of May, the whole company came to a 
 place where two Indians lay dead at the side of the 
 path. Two others had been killed there, but were re 
 moved. The captives were informed that a party of 
 Indians had taken some white people whom they were 
 carrying off as prisoners ; the latter rose upon their 
 captors in the night time, killed four of them, and 
 then effected their escape. When the present company 
 came to this place the women were sent forward, and 
 the male captives commanded to draw near and view 
 the dead bodies. After remaining to observe them 
 for some time, they were ordered to a place where a 
 tree was blown down. They were then directed to 
 dig a grave ; to effect which they sharpened a piece 
 of sapling with a tomahawk, with which rude instru 
 ment one of them broke the ground, and the others 
 threw out the earth with their hands ; the negroes 
 being permitted to beat them severely all the time they 
 were thus .employed. The bodies were deposited in 
 the grave, and the prisoners marched a short distance 
 farther, where they found the Indians who had gone 
 forward with the women, preparing a lodging place 
 for the night. The captives were still secured every 
 night, in the manner already described. 
 
 The next day, towards evening, they crossed the 
 east branch of the Susquehanna in canoes, at the same 
 place where General Sullivan's army had crossed it 
 20 
 
306 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 in the expedition against the Indians. The horses 
 swam the river by the side of the canoes. Their en 
 campment that night was on the western bank of the 
 stream ; but two Indians who did not cross it, sent 
 for Benjamin Gilbert jr. and Jesse Gilbert's wife. 
 Not being able to assign any probable cause for this 
 order, the remaining captives spent the night in great 
 anxiety and uneasiness of mind. The next morning, 
 however, their fears were dispelled by seeing their 
 companions again, who had received no worse treat 
 ment than usual. This* day, the Indians, in their 
 march, found a scalp which they took along with them, 
 and also some corn, on which they made a supper. 
 They frequently killed deer, which was the only pro 
 vision the party had, as the flour which they took 
 with them from the settlement was expended. 
 
 On the 4th of May, the party was divided into two 
 companies ; the one taking a path to the westward, 
 with whom were Thomas Peart, Joseph Gilbert, Ben 
 jamin Gilbert, jr., and Jesse Gilbert's wife; the other 
 company travelled more to the north. 
 
 In the evening, as the company that took the north 
 ern route was about to encamp, the prisoners inquired 
 of their captors what had become of their four com 
 panions who had been taken on the western path. The 
 reply was, " They are killed and scalped, and you 
 may expect the same fate to-night." Andrew Harrigar 
 was so terrified at the threat that he resolved upon 
 flight. As soon as it was dark, he took a kettle, with 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 307 
 
 pretence of bringing some water, and made his escape 
 under cover of the night. Pursuit was made by 
 several of the Indians as soon as he was missing ; they 
 remained out all night in search of hin: They were 
 not able, however, to overtake him, and in the morn 
 ing they returned. Harrigar endured many hardships 
 in the woods, and at length reached the settlements, and 
 gave the first authentic intelligence of the captives to 
 their friends and neighbors. 
 
 After this escape, the prisoners were treated with 
 great severity on'account of it, and were often accused 
 of being privy to the design of Harrigar. Rowland 
 Monteur carried his resentment so far that he threw 
 Jesse Gilbert down, and lifted his tomahawk to strike 
 him, which Mrs. Gilbert prevented by placing her 
 head on that of her son, and beseeching the enraged 
 savage to spare him. Turning round, he kicked her 
 over, and then tied both mother and son by their necks 
 to a tree, where they remained until his fury was a 
 little abated ; he then loosed them, and bade them pack 
 up and go forwards. In the evening they came to one 
 of their lodging places in one of the deserted towns of 
 the Shipquegas, and took their lodgings in one of the 
 wigwams still standing. The Shipquegas towns had 
 been abandoned a short time before, upon the ap 
 proach of General Sullivan's army. The party re 
 mained for three days among the deserted villages of 
 this tribe. Besides an abundance of game here, there 
 were plenty of potatoes and turnips remaining in the 
 
308 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 fields attached to the villages, which had not been dv. 
 stroyed by the invading army. Several horses were 
 taken here, which had been left by the Shipquagas in 
 their hasty flight. Upon resuming their march, Mrs. 
 Gilbert was placed upon one of these horses, which 
 seemed wild and dangerous to ride, but she was not 
 thrown ; she continued to ride him for several days. 
 
 The day they renewed their journey, they first 
 passed through a long and dreary swamp, and then 
 began the ascent of a rugged mountain, where there 
 was no path. The underwood ma5e it difficult for 
 the women to ascend ; but they were compelled to 
 keep pace with their masters, however great the 
 fatigue. When the mountain was crossed, the party 
 tarried awhile for the negroes, who lagged behind with 
 the horses that carried the baggage. The whole com 
 pany being now together, they agreed to encamp in 
 a swarnp not far distant. A long reach of savannas 
 and low grounds rendering their next day's journey 
 very fatiguing and painful, especially to the women ; 
 and Elizabeth Peart in particular was wearied almost 
 to fainting, by being compelled to carry her child, her 
 husband not being permitted to carry it for her, or to 
 lend her the least assistance ; and once as she was just 
 ready to drop from fatigue, the Indian who had charge 
 of her, struck her, a violent blow, to impel her forward. 
 
 On the third day after their departure from the 
 Shipquagas villages, their provisions began to fail 
 them ; and there was no game in the country through 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 309 
 
 winch they journeyed. At night, worn down with toil 
 and suffering from the want of food, Mrs. Gilbert was 
 seized with a chill. The Indians, however, gave her 
 some flour and water boiled, which afforded her some 
 relief. But the next day she was so weak that she 
 could only get along by the assistance of two of her 
 children her horse having been taken from her. 
 
 On the 14th of May, they came to Canadosago, 
 where they met with Benjamin Gilbert, jr., and Jesse 
 Gilbert's wife, Sarah, two of the four captives that had 
 been separated from the rest for the last ten days, and 
 taken along the western path. On the same day, John 
 Huston, jr., the younger of the Cayuga Indians, under 
 whose care Benjamin Gilbert, sr., was placed, design 
 ing to dispatch him, painted him black ; this exceed 
 ingly terrified the family ; but no entreaties of theira 
 being likely to prevail, they resigned their cause to Him 
 whose power can control all events. Wearied with 
 travelling, and weak from the want of food, they made 
 a stop to recover themselves ; when the elder of the 
 Cayugas, who had been sent forward with Abner 
 Gilbert two days before to procure a supply of pro 
 visions, returned, assuring them that a supply was at 
 hand. 
 
 The negroes were reduced so low with hunger, that 
 their behavior was different from what it had been, 
 conducting themselves with more moderation. At 
 their quarters, in the evening, two white men came to 
 them, one of whom was a volunteer among the British, 
 
810 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 || 
 the other had been taken prisoner some time before ; 
 
 these two men brought some hommony, and sugar 
 made from the sweet maple ; of this provision they 
 made a more comfortable supper than they had eaten 
 for many days. 
 
 In the morning the volunteer, having received in 
 formation of the rough treatment the prisoners met 
 with from the negroes, relieved them by taking the 
 negroes under his charge They crossed a large creek 
 which was in their way, and had to swim their horses 
 over it. Benjamin Gilbert began to fail, when an 
 Indian put a rope around his neck, leading him along 
 with it ; fatigue at last overpowered him, and he fell 
 to the ground, when the Indian pulled the rope so 
 hard that it almost choked him. His wife interceded 
 for him, when her entreaties prevailed, and their hearts 
 were turned from their cruel purpose. 
 
 Necessity induced two of tht Indians the next day 
 to set off on horseback, into the Seneca country, in 
 search of provisions. The prisoners, in the mean time, 
 were ordered to dig up a root, something resembling 
 a potato, which the Indians call whappanies. They 
 tarried at this place, until towards the evening of the 
 second day, and made a soup of wild onions and tur 
 nip tops ; this they ate without bread or salt, it could 
 not therefore afford sufficient sustenance, either for 
 young or old ; their food being so very light their 
 strength daily wasted. 
 
 Having left this place, they crossed the Genesee 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 311 
 
 river on a raft of logs, bound together by hickory 
 withes ; this appeared to be a dangerous method of 
 ferrying them over such a river, to those who had been 
 unaccustomed to such conveyances. They fixed their 
 station near the Genesee banks, and procured more of 
 the wild potato roots before mentioned, for their 
 supper. 
 
 On the following day, one of the Indians left the 
 company, taking with him the finest horse they had, 
 and in some hours after returned with a large piece 
 of meat, ordering the captives to broil it ; this com 
 mand they cheerfully performed, anxiously watching 
 the kettle, fresh meat being a rarity which they had 
 not for a long time enjoyed. The Indians, when it 
 was sufficiently boiled, distributed to each person a 
 piece, eating sparingly themselves. The prisoners 
 made their repast without bread or salt, and ate with 
 a good deal of relish what they supposed to be fresh 
 beef, but afterwards understood it was horse flesh. 
 
 A shrill halloo which they heard, gave the prisoners 
 some uneasiness ; one of the Indians immediately rode 
 to examine the cause, and found it was Captain Row 
 land Monteur, and his brother John's wife, with some 
 other Indians, who were seeking them with provisions. 
 The remainder of the company soon reached them, 
 and they divided some bread, which they had brought, 
 into small pieces, according to the number of the com 
 pany. The captain and his company had brought with 
 them cakes of hommony and Indian corn ; of this they 
 
312 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 made a good meal. He appeared pleased to see the 
 prisoners, having been absent from them several days, 
 and ordered them all round to shake hands with him. 
 From him they received information respecting Joseph 
 Gilbert and Thomas Peart, who were separated from 
 the others on the fourth of the month, and learned 
 that they ha'd arrived at the Indian settlements, some 
 time before, in safety. The company staid the night 
 at this place. One of the Indians refused to suffer 
 any of them to come near his fire, or converse with 
 the prisoner, who, in the distribution had fallen tc 
 him. Pounding hommony was the next day's employ 
 ment ; the weather being warm, made it a hard task ; 
 they boiled and prepared it for supper, the Indians 
 sitting down to eat first, and when they had concluded 
 their meal, they wiped the spoon on the sole of their 
 moccasons, and then gave it to the captives. 
 
 Having resumed their journey, Elizabeth Gilbert, 
 being obliged to ride alone, missed the path, for which 
 the Indians repeatedly struck her. Their route still 
 continued through rich meadows. After wandering 
 for a time out of the direct path, they came to an In 
 dian town, and obtained the necessary information to 
 pursue their journey ; the Indians ran out of their 
 huts to see the prisoners, and to partake of the plunder, 
 but no part of it suited them. Being directed to travel 
 the back path again, for a short distance, they did so, 
 and then struck into another, and went on until night, 
 by which time they were very hungry, not having 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 313 
 
 on ton sin?e morning; the kettle was again set on the 
 fire for hommony, this being their only food. 
 
 On the 21st of May, the report of a morning-gun 
 from Niagara, which they heard, contributed to raise 
 their hopes they rejoiced at being so near. An In 
 dian was dispatched, on horseback, to procure some 
 provisions from the fort. 
 
 Elizabeth Gilbert could not walk as fast as the rest, 
 she was therefore sent forward on foot, but was soon 
 overtaken and left behind, the rest being obliged by 
 the Indians to go on without regarding her. She 
 would have been greatly perplexed, when she came to 
 a division path, had not her husband laid a branch 
 across the path which would have led her wrong an 
 affecting instance of both ingenuity and tenderness. 
 She met several Indians, who passed by withouj; 
 speaking to her. 
 
 An Indian belonging to the company, who was on the 
 horse Elizabeth Gilbert had ridden, overtook her, and 
 endeavored to alarm her, by saying that she would be 
 left behind, and perish in the woods : yet, notwith 
 standing this, his heart was so softened before he had 
 gone any great distance .from her, that he alighted 
 from his horse and left him, that she might be able to 
 reach the rest of the company. The more seriously 
 she considered this, the more it appeared to her to be 
 a convincing instance of the overruling protection of 
 Him, who can " turn the heart of man as the husband 
 man turneth the water-course in his field." 
 
311 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 As the Indians approached nearer their habitations, 
 they frequently repeated their halloos, and after some 
 time they received an answer in the same manner, 
 which alarmed the company much ; but they soon dis 
 covered it to proceed from a party of whites and In 
 dians, who were on some expedition, though their pre 
 tence was that they were for New York. Not long 
 after parting with these, Rowland Monteur's wife 
 CB,rne to them ; she was daughter to Siangorochti, 
 kmg of the Senecas, but her mother being a Cayuga, 
 she was ranked among that nation, the children gene 
 rally reckoning their descent from the mother's side. 
 This princess was attended by the captain's brother, 
 John, one other Indian, and a white prisoner who had 
 been taken at Wyoming, by Rowland Monteur ; she 
 was dressed altogether in the Indian manner, shining 
 with gold lace and silver baubles. They brought with 
 them from the fort a supply of provisions. The cap 
 tain being at a distance behind, when his wife came, 
 the company waited for him. After the customary 
 salutations, he addressed himself to his wife, telling 
 her that Rebecca was her daughter, and that she must 
 not be induced, by any consideration, to part with her ; 
 whereupon she took a silver ring off her finger, and 
 put it upon Rebecca's, by which she was adopted as 
 her daughter. 
 
 They feasted upon the provisions that were brought, 
 for they had been for several days before pinched with 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 313 
 
 hunger, what sustenance they could procure nol being 
 sufficient to support nature. 
 
 The next day, the Indians proceeded on their jour 
 ney, and continued whooping in the most frightful 
 manner. In this day's route, they met another com 
 pany of Indians, who compelled Benjamin Gilbert, 
 the elder, to sit on the ground, when they put several 
 questions to kirn, to which he gave them the best an 
 swer he could ; they then took his hat from him and 
 went off. 
 
 Going through a small town near Niagara, an In 
 dian woman came out of one of the huts, and struck 
 each of the captives a blow. Not long after their 
 departure from this place, Jesse, Rebecca, and their 
 mother, were detained until the others had got out of 
 thei* sight, when the mother was ordered to push on ; 
 and as she had to go by herself, she was much per 
 plexed what course to take, as there was no path by 
 which she could be directed. In this dilemma, she 
 concluded to keep as straight forward as possible, and 
 after some space of time, she had the satisfaction of 
 overtaking the others. The pilot then made a short 
 stay, that those who were behind might come up, and 
 the captain handed some rum round, giving each a 
 dram, except the two old folks, whom they did not 
 consider worthy of this notice. Here the captain, 
 who had the chief direction, painted Abner, Jesse, 
 Rebecca, and Elizabeth Gilbert, jr., and presented 
 each with a belt of wampum, as a token of their being 
 
316 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 received into favor, although they took from them all 
 their hats and bonnets, except Rebecca's. 
 
 The prisoners were released from the loads they 
 had heretofore been compelled to carry, and had it not 
 been for the treatment they expected on their ap 
 proaching the Indian towns, and the hardships after 
 a separation, their situation would have been tolerable ; 
 but the horrors of their minds, arising from the dread 
 ful yells of the Indians, as they approached the ham 
 lets, is easier conceived than described, for they were 
 no strangers to the customary cruelty exercised upon 
 captives on entering their towns. The Indians, men, 
 women, and children, collect together, bringing clubs 
 and stones in order to beat them, which they usually 
 do with great severity, by way of revenge for their 
 relations who have been slain ; this is performed im 
 mediately upon their entering the village where the 
 warriors reside. This treatment cannot be avoided, 
 and the blows, however cruel, must be borne without 
 complaint, and the prisoners are sorely beaten, until 
 their enemies are wearied with the cruel sport. Their 
 sufferings were in this case very great, they received 
 several wounds, and two of the women, who were on 
 horseback, were much bruised by the falling of their 
 horses, which were frightened by the Indians. Eliza 
 beth, the mother, took shelter by the side of one of 
 them, but upon observing that she met with some 
 l avor upon his account, he sent her away ; she then 
 received several violent blows, so that she was almost 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 317 
 
 disabled. The bjood trickled from their heads in a 
 stream, their hair being cut close, and the clothes they 
 had on, in rags, made their situation truly piteous. 
 Whilst they were inflicting this revenge upon the cap 
 tives, the king came, and put a stop to any farther 
 cruelty, by telling them "It was sufficient," which 
 they immediately attended to. 
 
 Benjamin Gilbert, and Elizabeth his wife, were or 
 dered to Captain Rowland Monteur's house ; the wo 
 men belonging to it were kind to them, and gave them 
 something to eat : Sarah Gilbert, Jesse's wife, was 
 taken from them by three, women, in order to be put 
 in the family she was to be adopted by. 
 
 Two officers, froM Niagara Fort, Captains Dace 
 and Powel, came to see the prisoners, and prevent, 
 as they were informed, any abuse that might be given 
 them. Benjamin Gilbert informed these officers, that 
 he was apprehensive they were in great danger of be 
 ing murdered, upon which they promised him they 
 would send a boat, the next day, to bring them to 
 Niagara. 
 
 Notwithstanding the kind intention of the officers, 
 they did not derive the expected advantage from it, 
 the next day, for the Indians insisted on their going 
 to the rort on foot, although the bruises they had re 
 ceived the day before, from the many severe blows 
 given them, rendered their journey on foot very dis 
 tressing ; but Captain Monteur obstinately persisting, 
 they dared not remonstrate, or refuse. 
 
318 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 When they left the Indian town, several issued from 
 theii huts after them with sticks in their hands, yell 
 ing and screeching in the most dismal manner ; but 
 through the interposition of four Indian women, who 
 had come with the captives, to prevent any further 
 abuse they might receive, they were preserved. One 
 of them walking between Benjamin Gilbert and his 
 wife, led them, and desired Jesse to keep as near them 
 as he could, the other three walked behind, and pre 
 vailed with the young Indians to desist. They had 
 not pursued their route long, before they saw Captain 
 John Powel, who came from his boat, and persuaded 
 (though with some difficulty) the Indians to get into 
 it, with the captives, which relieved them from their 
 apprehensions of further danger. After reaching the 
 fort, Captain Powel introduced them to Colonel Guy 
 Johnson, and Colonel Butler, who asked the prisoners 
 many questions, in the presence of the Indians. They 
 presented the captain with a belt of wampum, which 
 is a constant practice among them, when they intend 
 a ratification of the peace. Before their connection 
 with Europeans, these belts were made of shells, found 
 on the coasts of New England and Virginia, which 
 were sawed out into beads of an oblong shape, about 
 a quarter of an inch long, which when strung together 
 on leather strings, and these strings fastened with fine 
 threads made of sinews, compose what is called a belt 
 of wampum. But since the whites have gained footing 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 319 
 
 amongst them, they make use of the common glass 
 beads for this purpose. 
 
 On the 25th of May, Benjamin Gilbert, his wifd 
 Elizabeth, and their son Jesse, were surrendered to 
 Colonel Johnson, in whose family they received much 
 kindness. The colonel's housekeeper was particularly 
 attentive to them, not only inviting them to her house, 
 where she gave the old folks her best room, but ad 
 ministering to their necessities and endeavoring to 
 soothe their sorrows. 
 
 A few days after they came to the fort, they had 
 information that Benjamin Peart was by the river side, 
 with the Indians ; upon hearing this report, his mo 
 ther went to see him, but every attempt to obtain his 
 release was in vain ; the Indians would by no means 
 give him up. From this place they intended to march 
 with their prisoners to the Genesee river, about one 
 hundred miles distant. As the affectionate mother's 
 solicitations proved fruitless, her son not only felt the 
 afflicting loss of his wife and child, from whom he had 
 been torn some time before, but the renewal of his 
 grief on this short sight of his parent. She procured 
 him a hat, and also some salt, which was an acceptable 
 burden for the journey. 
 
 Benjamin Gilbert, conversing with the Indian cap 
 tain who made them captives, observed that he migh. 
 Bay what none of the other Indians could, " That he 
 had brought in the oldest man, and the youngest 
 child;" his reply to this was expressive ; " It was not 
 
320 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 I. but the great God who brought you through, for 
 we were determined to kill you, but were prevented.' 
 
 The British officers being informed that Jesse Gil 
 bert's wife was among the Indians, with great tender 
 ness agreed to seek her out, and after a diligent in 
 quiry, found that she was among the Delawares ; they 
 went to them, and endeavored to agree upon some 
 terms for her release ; the Indians brought her to the 
 fort the next day, but would not give her up to her 
 relations. 
 
 Early next morning, Captain Kobeson generously 
 undertook to procure her liberty, which, after much 
 attention and solicitude, he, together with Lieutenant 
 Hillyard, happily accomplished. They made the In 
 dians some small presents, and gave them one hundred 
 and fifty dollars as a ransom. When Sarah Gilbert 
 had obtained her liberty, she altered her dress more 
 in character for her sex, than she had been able to do 
 whilst among the Indians, and went to her husband 
 and parents at Colonel Johnson's, where she was joy 
 fully received. Colonel Johnson's housekeeper con 
 tinued her kind attentions to them, during their stay, 
 and procured clothing for them from the public stores 
 
 About the 1st of June, the Senecas, among whom 
 Elizabeth Peart was a captive, brought her with them 
 to the fort ; as soon as the mother heard of it, she went 
 to her, and had some conversation with her, but could 
 not learn where she was to be sent to ; she then in 
 quired of the interpreter, and pressed on his friend 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 
 
 ship, to learn what was to become of her daughter , 
 this request he complied with, and informed her that 
 she was to be given away to another family of the Se- 
 necas, and adopted among them, in the place of a de 
 ceased relation. Captain Powel interested himself 
 in her case likewise, and offered to purchase her of 
 them, but the Indians refused to give hp.r up ; and as 
 the mother and daughter expected they should see 
 each other no more, their parting was very affecting. 
 
 The woman who had adopted Rebecca as her 
 daughter, came also to the fort, and Elizabeth Gilbert 
 made use of this opportunity to inquire concerning 
 her daughter ; the interpreter informed her that there 
 was no probability of obtaining the enlargement of 
 her child, as the Indians would not part with her. All 
 she could do was to recommend her to their notice, as 
 very weakly, and in consequence not able to endure 
 much fatigue. 
 
 Not many days after their arrival at Niagara, a 
 vessel came up Niagara to the fort, with orders for 
 the prisoners to go to Montreal. In this vessel came 
 the notorious Indian chief, Brant. Elizabeth Gilbert 
 immediately applied to him in behalf of her children 
 who yet remained in captivity, when he promised to 
 use his endeavors to procure their liberty, A short 
 time before they sailed for Montreal, they received 
 accounts of Abner and Elizabeth Gilbert the younger, 
 but it was understood that their possessors were not 
 disposed to give them up. As the prospect of obtaining 
 21 
 
322 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 the release of their children was so very discouraging, 
 it was no alleviation to their distress to be removed to 
 Montreal, where, in all probability, they would seldom 
 be able to gain any information respecting them ; on 
 which account, they were very solicitous to stay at 
 Niagara, but the colonel said they could not remain 
 there, unless the son would enter into the king's ser 
 vice ; this could not be consented to, therefore they 
 chose to submit to every calamity which might be per 
 mitted to befal them, and confide in the great Con 
 troller of events. After continuing ten days at Co 
 lonel Johnson's, they took boat and crossed the Nia 
 gara, in order to go on board the vessel which was to 
 take them to Montreal. 
 
 Benjamin Gilbert had been much indisposed before 
 they left the fort, and his disorder was increased by a 
 rain which fell on their passage, as they were without 
 any covering. They passed Oswagatchy, an English 
 garrison, by the side of the river, but they were not 
 permitted to stop here ; they proceeded down the St. 
 Lawrence, and the rain continuing, went on shore on 
 an island in order to secure themselves from the wea 
 ther. Here they made a shelter for Benjamin Gilbert, 
 and when the rain ceased, a place was prepared for 
 him in the boat, that he might lie down with more 
 ease. His bodily weakness made such rapid progress, 
 that it rendered all the aare and attention of his wife 
 necessary, and likewise called forth all her fortitude : 
 she supported him in her arms, affording every pos- 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 322 
 
 sible relief to mitigate his extreme pains. Although 
 in this distressed condition, he, notwithstanding, gave 
 a satisfactory evidence of the virtue and power of a 
 patient and holy resignation, which can disarm the 
 king of terrors, and receive him as a welcome mes 
 senger. Thus prepared, he passed from this state of 
 probation, the 8th of June, 1780, in the evening, 
 leaving his wife and two children, who were with him, 
 in all the anxiety of deep distress, although they had 
 no doubt but that their loss was his everlasting gain. 
 Being without a light in the boat, the darkness of the 
 night added not a little to their malancholy situation. 
 As there were not any others with Elizabeth Gilbert 
 but her children, and four Frenchmen, who managed 
 the boat, and her apprehensions alarmed her lest they 
 should throw the corpse overboard, as they appeared 
 to be an unfeeling company, she therefore applied to 
 some British officers who were in a boat behind them, 
 who dispelled her fears, and received her under their 
 protection. In the morning they passed the garrison 
 of Cceur de Lac, and waited for some considerable 
 time, a small distance below it. Squire Campbell, who 
 had the charge of the prisoners, when he heard of 
 Benjamin Gilbert's decease, sent Jesse to the com 
 rnandant of this garrison to get a coffin, in which they 
 put the corpse, and very hastily interred him under an 
 oak, not far from the fort. The boatmen would not 
 allow his widow to pay the last tribute to his memory, 
 )ut regardless of her affliction refused to wait. 
 
824 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 The next day, they arrived at Montreal, where the} 
 remained for more than a year, receiving much kind 
 ness both from the British officers and soldiers and a 
 number of the inhabitants. Being placed upon the 
 list of the king's prisoners, daily rations were allowed 
 them. 
 
 During the time they remained here, they applied 
 to Colonel Campbell for such assistance as he could 
 render them in procuring the release of the other cap- 
 tives from the Indians. He took down a short account 
 of their sufferings, and forwarded the narrative to 
 General Huldimund, at Quebec, desiring his attention 
 to the sufferers. The general immediately issued or 
 ders that all the officers under his command should 
 endeavor to procure the release of the prisoners, and 
 that every garrison should furnish them with neces 
 saries as they came down. Soon after this, Mrs. Gilbert 
 was one day at the house of a Mrs. Scott, in Mon 
 treal, when she was informed that some persons in an 
 adjoining room were desirous of seeing her. Her joy 
 may be imagined when, upon entering the apartment, 
 she beheld six of her long lost children. 
 
 A messenger was sent to inform Jesse and his wife, 
 that Joseph Gilbert, Benjamin Peart, Elizabeth his 
 wife, and young child, Abner and Elizabeth Gilbert, 
 the younger, were with their mother. It must afford 
 very pleasing reflections to any affectionate disposi 
 tion, to dwell awhile on this scene, that after a cap 
 tivity of nearly fourteen months, so happy a meeting 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 325 
 
 should take place. Thomas Peart, who had obtained 
 his liberty, tarried at Niagara, that he might be of 
 service to the two jet remaining in captivity, viz. Ben 
 jamin Gilbert, jr. and Rebecca Gilbert. Abigail Dod- 
 son, the daughter of a neighboring farmer, who was 
 taken with them, having inadvertently informed the 
 Indians she was not of the Gilbert family, all attempts 
 for her liberty were fruitless. 
 
 * We shall now relate hpw Joseph Gilbert, the eldest 
 son of the deceased, fared among the Indians. He, 
 with Thomas Peart, Benjamin Gilbert, jr. and Jesse 
 Gilbert's wife Sarah, were taken along the westward 
 path, as before related ; after some short continuance 
 in this path, Thomas Peart and Joseph Gilbert were 
 taken from the other two, and by a different route 
 through many difficulties, they were brought to Cara- 
 cadera, where they received the insults of the women 
 and children, whose husbands had fallen in their hostile 
 excursions. 
 
 Joseph Gilbert was separated from his companion, 
 and removed to an Indian town, called Nundow, about 
 seven miles from Caracadera ; his residence was, for 
 several weeks, in the king's family, whose hamlet was 
 superior to the. other small huts. The king himself 
 brought him some hommony, and treated him with 
 great civility, intending his adoption into his family, 
 in place of one of his sons, who was slain when Gene 
 ral Sullivan drove them from their habitations. A s 
 Nundow was not to be the place of his abode, his 
 
 28 
 
326 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 quarters were soon changed, and he was taken back 
 to Caracadera. 
 
 The situation of Elizabeth Peart, wife of Benjamin., 
 and her child is next related. After she and the child 
 were parted from her husband, Abigail Dodson and 
 ;he child were taken several miles in the night, to a 
 little hut, where they staid till morning, and the day 
 following were taken within eight miles of Niagara, 
 where she was adopted into one of the families of Se- 
 necas ; the ceremonies of adoption to her were tedious 
 and distressing ; they obliged her to sit down with a 
 young man, an Indian, and the eldest chieftain of the 
 family repeated a jargon of words, to her unintelli 
 gible, but which she considered as some form of mar 
 riage, and this apprehension introduced the most vio 
 lent agitations, as she was fully determined, at all 
 events, to oppose any steps of this nature ; but after 
 the old Indian concluded his speech, she was relieved 
 from the dreadful embarrassment she had been under, 
 as she was led away by another Indian. Abigail Dod 
 son was given the same day to one of the families of 
 the Cayuga nation, so that Elizabeth Peart saw her 
 no more. 
 
 The man who led Elizabeth from the company, took 
 her into the family for whom they adopted her, and 
 introduced her to her parents, brothers, and sisters, 
 in the Indian style, who received her very kindly, and 
 made a grievous lamentation over her, according to 
 custom. After she had been with them two days, the 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 827 
 
 whole family left their habitation and went about two 
 miles to Fort Slusher, where they staid several days. 
 This fort is about one mile above Niagara Falls. 
 
 As she was much indisposed, the Indians were de 
 tained several days for her*; but as they cared little 
 for her, she was obliged to lie on the damp ground, 
 which prevented her speedy recovery. As soon as her 
 disorder abated its violence, they set off in a bark 
 canoe for Buffalo creek ; and as they went slowly, 
 they had an opportunity of taking some fish. When 
 they arrived at their place of intended settlement, they 
 went on shore to build a house. A few days after they 
 came to this new settlement, they returned with Eli 
 zabeth to Fort Slusher, when she was told her child 
 must be taken away from her ; this was truly afflict 
 ing, but all remonstrances were in vain. From Fort 
 Slusher she travelled on foot, carrying her child to 
 Niagara, it being eighteen miles, and in sultry weather, 
 which rendered it a painful addition to the thoughts 
 of parting with her tender offspring. The intent of 
 their journey was to obtain provisions, and their stay 
 at the fort was of several days continuance, Captain 
 Powel offered her an asylum in his house. 
 
 The Indians took the child from her, and went with 
 it across the river, to adopt it into the family they 
 had assigned for it, notwithstanding Captain Powel, 
 at his wife's request, interceded that it might not be 
 removed from its mother ; but as it was so young, 
 they returned it to its mother after its adoption, until 
 
328 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 it should be convenient to send it to the family under 
 whose protection it was to be placed. Obtaining the 
 provision and other necessaries they came to Niagara 
 to trade for, they returned to Fort Slusher on foot, 
 from whence they embarked in their canoes. 
 
 It being near the time of planting, they used much 
 expedition in this journey. The labor and drudgery 
 in a family falling to the share of the women, Eliza 
 beth had to assist the squaw in preparing the ground 
 and planting corn. Their provisions being scant, they 
 suffered much, and their dependence for a sufficient 
 supply until gathering their crop, was on what they 
 should receive from the fort, they were under the 
 necessity of making a second journey thither. 
 
 They were two days on the road at this time. A 
 small distance before they came to the fort, they took 
 her child from her, and sent it to its destined family, 
 and it was. several months before she had an opportu 
 nity of seeing it again. After being taken from her 
 husband, to lose her darling infant was a severe stroke : 
 she lamented her condition and wept sorely, for which 
 one of the Indians inhumanly struck her. Her Indian 
 father seemed a little moved to see her so distressed ; 
 and in order to console her, assured her they would 
 bring it back again, but she saw it not until the spring 
 following. After they had disposed of their peltries, 
 they returned to their habitation by the same route 
 which they had come. 
 
 With a heart oppressed with sorrow, Elizabeth trod 
 
CAPTIVITY DF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 329 
 
 back her steps, mourning for her lost infant, for this 
 idea presented itself continually to her mind ; but as 
 she experienced how fruitless, nay, how dangerous 
 solicitations in behalf of her own child were, she dried 
 up her tears and pined in secret. 
 
 Soon after they had reached their own habitation, 
 Elizabeth Peart was again afflicted with sickness. At 
 first they showed some attention to her complaints, 
 but as she did not speedily recover so as to be able 
 to work, they discontinued every attention, and built 
 a small hut by the side of a cornfield, placing her in 
 it to mind the corn. In this lonely condition she saw 
 a white man, who had been made prisoner among the 
 the Indians. He informed her that her child was re 
 leased and with the white people. This information 
 revived her drooping spirits, and a short time after 
 she recovered of her indisposition, but her employment 
 still continued to be that of attending corn until it was 
 ripe for gathering, which she assisted in. When the 
 harvest was over, they permitted her to return and 
 live with them. A time of plenty now commenced, 
 and they lived as if they had sufficient to last the year 
 through, faring plenteously every day. 
 
 A drunken Indian came to the cabin one day, and 
 the old Indian woman complained of him to Elizabeth, 
 his behaviour exceedingly terrified her ; he stormed 
 like fury, and at length struck her a violent blow, 
 which laid her on the ground ; he then began to pull 
 her about and abuse her much, when another of the 
 28* 
 
330 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 women interposed, and rescued her from further suf 
 fering. Such is the shocking effects of spirituoua 
 liquor on these people, that it totally deprives them 
 both of sense and humanity. 
 
 A tedious winter prevented them from leaving their 
 habitation, and deprived her of the pleasure of hear 
 ing often of her friends, who were very much scattered ; 
 but a prisoner, who had lately seen her husband, in 
 formed her of his being much indisposed at the Ge- 
 nesee river, which was one hundred miles distant. On 
 receiving this intelligence, she stood in need of much 
 consolation, but had no source of comfort except in 
 her own bosom. 
 
 Near the return of spring, the provision failing, 
 they were compelled to go off to the fort for a fresh 
 supply, having but a small portion of corn, which 
 they apportioned out once each day. Through snow 
 and severe frost they set out for Niagara, suffering 
 much from the excessive cold. And when they came 
 within a few miles of the fort, which they were four 
 days in accomplishing, they struck up a small wig 
 wam for some of the family, with the prisoners, to live 
 in, until the return of the warriors from the fort. 
 
 As soon as Captain Powel's wife heard that the 
 young child's mother had come with the Indians, she 
 desired to see her, claiming some relationship in the 
 Indian way, as she had also been a prisoner amongst 
 them. They granted her request, and Elizabeth was 
 accordingly introduced, and informed that her hus 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 331 
 
 band was returned to the fort, and there was some 
 expectation of his release. The same day Benjamin 
 Peart came to see his wife, but he was not permitted 
 to continue with her, as the Indians insisted on her 
 going back with them to the cabin, which, as has been 
 related, was some miles distant. She was not allowed 
 for several days to go from the cabin, but a white 
 family who had bought the child from the Indians to 
 whom it had been presented, offered the party with 
 whom Elizabeth had been confined a bottle of rum if 
 they would bring her across the river to her child, 
 which they did, and delighted the fond mother with 
 this happy meeting, as she had not seen it for the 
 space of eight months. 
 
 She was permitted to remain with the family where 
 her child was for two days, when she returned with 
 the Indians to their cabin. After some time she ob 
 tained a further permission to go to the fort, where 
 she had some needle work from the white people, 
 which afforded her a plea for often visiting it. At 
 length Captain Powel's wife prevailed with them to 
 suffer her to continue a few days at her house and 
 work for her family, which was granted. At the ex 
 piration of the time, upon the coming of the Indians 
 for her to return with them, she pleaded indisposition, 
 and by this means they were repeatedly dissuaded 
 from taking her with them. 
 
 As the time of planting drew nigh, she made use 
 of a little address to retard her departure ; having a 
 
332 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 small swelling on her neck, she applied a poultice, 
 which led the Indians into a belief that it was improper 
 to remove her, and they consented to come again for 
 her in two weeks. Her child was given up to her 
 soon after her arrival at the fort, where she had lodged 
 at Captain Powel's, and her husband came frequently 
 to visit her, which was a great satisfaction, as her 
 trials in their separation had been many. 
 
 At the time appointed, some of the Indians came 
 again, but she still pleaded indisposition, and had con 
 fined herself to her bed. One of the women interro 
 gated her very closely, but did not insist upon her 
 going back. Thus several months elapsed, she con 
 triving delays as often as they came. 
 
 When the vessel, which was to take the other five, 
 among whom was her husband and child, was ready 
 to sail, . the officers at Niagara concluded that she 
 might also go with them, as they saw no reasonable 
 objection, and they doubted not but that it was in 
 their power to satisfy those Indians who considered 
 her as their property. 
 
 Abner Gilbert, another of the captives, when the 
 company had reached the Indian towns, within three 
 miles of Niagara Fort, was, with Elizabeth Gilbert 
 the younger, separated from the rest about the latter 
 part of May, 1780, and were both adopted into John 
 Huston's family, who was of the Cayuga nation. After 
 a stay of three days, at or near the settlements of 
 these Indians, they removed to a place near the Greai 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 333 
 
 Falls, which is about eighteen miles distant from the 
 fort, and loitered there three days more ; they then 
 crossed the river, and settled near its banks, clearing 
 a piece of land, and preparing it with a hoe for plant 
 ing. Until they could gather their corn, their de 
 pendence was entirely upon the fort. After the space 
 of three weeks they packed up their moveables, which 
 they generally carry with them in their rambles, and 
 went down the river to get provisions at Butlersbury, 
 a small village built by Colonel Butler, and is on the 
 opposite side of the river to Niagara Fort. They 
 staid one night at the village, observing great caution 
 that none of the white people should converse with 
 the Indians. Next day, after transacting their busi 
 ness, they returned to their settlement, and continued 
 there but about one week, when it was concluded they 
 must go again for Butlersbury ; after they had left 
 their habitation a small distance, the head of the fa 
 mily met with his brother, and as they are very cere 
 monious in such interviews, the place of meeting was 
 their rendezvous for that day and night. In the morn 
 ing, the family, with the brother before mentioned, 
 proceeded for Butlersbury, and reached it before dark 
 They went to the house of an Englishman, one John 
 Secord, who was styled brother to the chief of the fa 
 mily, having lived with him some time before. After 
 some deliberation, it was agreed that Elizabeth Gil 
 bert should continue in this family until sent for ; 
 this was an agreeable change to her. 
 
331 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 From the time of Elizabeth being first introduced 
 by the Indian into the family of John Secord, who 
 was one in whom he placed great confidence, she was 
 under the necessity of having new clothes, as those 
 she had brought from home were much worn. Her 
 situation in the family where she was placed was com 
 fortable. 
 
 After she had resided a few days with them she 
 discovered where the young child was, that had some 
 time before been taken from its mother, Elizabeth 
 Peart, and herself, together with John Secord's wife, 
 with whom she lived, and Captain Fry's wife, went to 
 Bee it, in order to purchase it from the Indian woman 
 who had it under her care ; but they could not then 
 prevail with her, though some time after Captain Fry's 
 wife purchased it for thirteen dollars. Whilst among 
 the Indians, it had been for a long time indisposed, 
 and in a lingering, distressed situation ; but under its 
 present kind protectress, who treated the child as her 
 own, it soon recruited. 
 
 Elizabeth Gilbert jr., lived very agreeably in John 
 Secord's family rather more than a year, and became 
 BO fondly attached to her benefactors, that she usually 
 styled the mistress of the house her mamma. During 
 her residence here, her brother Abner and Thomas 
 Peart came several times to visit her. The afflicting 
 loss of her father, to whom she was affectionately en 
 deared, and the separation from her mother, whom 
 she had no expectation of seeing again, was a severe 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 335 
 
 trial, although moderated by the kind attentions shown 
 her by the family in which she lived. 
 
 John Secord, having some business at Niagara, 
 took Betsy with him, where she had the satisfaction 
 of seeing six of her relations, who had been captives, 
 but were most of them released. This happy meeting 
 made the trip to the fort a very agreeable one. She 
 staid with them all night, and then returned. Not 
 long after this visit, Colonel Butler and John Secord 
 sent for the Indian who claimed Elizabeth as his pro 
 perty, and when he arrived they made overtures to 
 purchase her, but he declared he would not sell his 
 own flesh and blood ; for thus they style those whom 
 they have adopted. They then had recourse to pre 
 sents, which, overcoming his scruples, they obtained 
 her discharge ; after which she remained two weeks 
 at Butlersbury, and afterwards went to her mother at 
 Montreal. 
 
 Having given a brief relation of the release and 
 meeting of such of the captives as had returned from 
 among the Indians, it may not be improper to return 
 to the mother, who, with several of her children, were 
 at Montreal. Elizabeth Gilbert suffered no opportu 
 nity to pass her, of inquiring about her relations and 
 friends in Pennsylvania, and had the satisfaction of 
 being informed by one who came from the southward, 
 that the Friends of Philadelphia had been very assi 
 duous in their endeavors to gain information where 
 the family was, and had sent to the different meetings, 
 
336 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 desiring them to inform themselves of the situation ot 
 the captured family, and, if in their power, afford 
 them such relief as they might need. 
 
 A person who came from Crown Point, informed 
 her that Benjamin Gilbert, a son of the deceased by 
 his first wife, had come thither in order to be of what 
 service he could to the family, and had desired him 
 to make inquiry where they were, and in what situa 
 tion, and send him the earliest information possible. 
 The next agreeable intelligence she received from Nia 
 gara, by a young woman who came from thence, who 
 informed her that her daughter Rebecca was given up 
 to the English by the Indians. This information must 
 have been very pleasing, as their expectations of her 
 release were but faint; the Indian with whom she 
 lived considering her as her own child. It was not 
 long after this, that Thomas Peart, Rebecca Gilbert, 
 and their cousin Benjamin Gilbert, came to Montreal 
 to the rest of the family. This meeting, after such 
 scenes of sorrow as they had experienced, was more 
 completely happy than can be expressed. 
 
 Rebecca Gilbert and Benjamin Gilbert jr. were 
 separated from their friends and connections at a 
 place called the Five Mile Meadows, which was said 
 to be that distance from Niagara. The Seneca king's 
 daughter, to whom they were allowed in the distribu 
 tion of captives, took them to a small hut where her 
 father, Siangorochti, his queen, and the rest of the 
 family were, eleven in number. Upon the reception 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 337 
 
 of the prisoners into the family, there was much sor 
 row and weeping, as is customary on such occasions, 
 and the higher in favor the adopted prisoners are to 
 be placed, the greater lamentation is made over them. 
 A fter three days the family removed to a place called 
 the Landing, on the banks of the Niagara river. Here 
 they continued two days more, and then two of the 
 ^omen went with the captives to Niagara, to procure 
 clothing from the king's store for them, and permitted 
 them to ride on horseback to Fort Slusher, which is 
 about eighteen miles distant from Niagara Fort. On 
 this journey they had a sight of the great Falls of 
 Niagara. 
 
 During a stay of six days at Fort Slusher, the Bri 
 tish officers and others used their utmost endeavors to 
 purchase them of the Indians ; but the Indian king 
 said he would not part with them for one thousand 
 dollars. The Indians who claimed Elizabeth Peart, 
 came to the fort with her at^ this time, and although 
 she was very weakly and indisposed, it was an agree 
 able opportunity to them both, of conversing with each 
 other, but they were not allowed to be^frequently to 
 gether, lest they should increase each other's discon 
 tent. Rebecca being dressed in the Indian manner, 
 appeared very different from what she had been accus 
 tomed to ; short clothes, leggings, and a gold laced hat. 
 From Fort Niagara they went about eighteen miles 
 above the Falls to Fort Erie, a garrison of the En 
 glish, and continued their journey about four miles 
 22 29 
 
HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 further, up Buffalo creek, and pitched their tent. At 
 this place they met Rebecca's father and mother, by 
 adoption, who had gone before on horseback. They 
 caught some fish and made some soup of them, but 
 Rebecca could eat none of it, as it was cooked without 
 salt, and with all the carelessness of Indians. This 
 spot was intended for their plantation, they therefore 
 began to clear the land for a crop of Indian corn. 
 While the women were thus employed, the men built 
 a log house for their residence, and then went out a 
 hunting. 
 
 Notwithstanding the family they lived with was of 
 the first rank among the Indians, and the head of it 
 styled king, they were under the necessity of laboring 
 as well as those of lower rank, although they often had 
 advantages of procuring more provisions than the rest. 
 This family raised this summer about seventy-five 
 bushels of Indian corn. As Rebecca was not able to 
 pursue a course of equal labor with the other women, 
 she was favored by them by often being sent into their 
 hut to prepare something to eat ; and as she dressed 
 their provisions after the English method, and had 
 erected an oven by the assistance of the other women, 
 in which they baked their bread, their family fared 
 more agreeably than the others. 
 
 Benjamin Gilbert jr., who was only eleven years of 
 age when he was captured, was considered as the king's 
 successor, and entirely freed from restraint, so that 
 he even began to be delighted with his manner of life ,- 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 839 
 
 and had it not been for the frequent counsel of hia 
 fellow captive, he would not have been anxious for ar 
 exchange. 
 
 In the waters of the lakes there are various kinds 
 of fish, which the Indians take sometimes with spears ; 
 but whenever they can obtain hooks and lines they 
 prefer them. A fish called ozoondah, resembling a 
 shad in shape, but rather thicker and less bony, with 
 which Lake Erie abounded, was often dressed for 
 their table, and was of an agreeable taste, weighing 
 from three to four pounds. 
 
 They drew provisions this summer from the forts, 
 which frequently induced the Indians to repair thither. 
 The king, his daughter, granddaughter, and Rebecca, 
 went together upon one of these visits to Fort Erie, 
 where the British officers entertained them with a rich 
 feast, and so great a profusion of wine, that the Indian 
 king got very drunk ; and as he had to manage the 
 canoe on their return, they were repeatedly in danger 
 of being overset among the rocks in the lake. 
 
 Rebecca and Benjamin met with much better fare 
 than the other captives, as the family they lived with 
 Were but seldom in great want of necessaries, which 
 were the only advantages they enjoyed beyond the 
 rest of their tribe. Benjamin Gilbert, as a badge of 
 his dignity, wore a silver medal pendant from his neok. 
 The king, queen, and another of the family, together 
 with Rebecca, and her cousin Benjamin, set off' for 
 Niagara, going as far as Fort Slusher by water, from 
 
310 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 whence they proceeded on foot, carrying their loads 
 on their backs. Their business at the fort was to ob 
 tain provisions, which occasioned them frequently to 
 visit it. 
 
 Rebecca indulged herself with the pleasing expecta 
 tion of obtaining her release, or at least permission to 
 remain behind among the whites ; but in both these 
 expectations she was disagreeably disappointed, having 
 to return again with her captors ; all efforts for her 
 release being in vain. Colonel Johnson's housekeeper, 
 whose repeated acts of kindness to this captured 
 family have been noticed, made her some acceptable 
 presents. As they had procured some rum to carry 
 home with them, the chief was frequently intoxicated, 
 and always in such unhappy fits behaved remarkably 
 foolish. On their return, Thomas Peart, who was at 
 Fort Niagara, procured for Rebecca a horse to carry 
 her as far as Fort Slusher, where they took boat and 
 got home after a stay of nine days. 
 
 Soon after their return, Rebecca and her cousin 
 were seized with the chills and fever, which held them 
 for near three months. During their indisposition the 
 Indians were very kind to them ; and as their strength 
 of constitution alone could not check the progress of 
 the disorder, the Indians procured some herbs, with 
 which the patients were unacquainted, and made a 
 plentiful decoction ; with this they washed them, and 
 't seemed to afform them some relief. The Indians 
 accounted it a sovereign remedy. The decease of her 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 34* 
 
 father, cf which Rebecca received an account, kept 
 her in a drooping way a considerable time longer 
 than she would otherwise have beenJBfinCTOtt L 
 
 As soon as she recovered her health, some of the 
 family again went to Niagara, and Rebecca was per 
 mitted to be of the company. They staid at the fort 
 about two weeks, and Colonel Johnson exerted him 
 self in order to obtain her release, holding a treaty 
 with the Indians for this purpose ; but this mediation 
 proved fruitless : she had therefore to return with 
 many a heavy step. When they came to Lake Erie, 
 where their canoe was, they proceeded by water. 
 While in their boat, a number of Indians in another, 
 came towards them, and informed them of the death 
 of her Indian father, who had made an expedition to 
 the frontiers of Pennsylvania, and was there wounded 
 by the militia, and afterwards died of his wounds ; on 
 which occasion she was under the necessity of making 
 a feint of sorrow, and weeping aloud with the rest. 
 When they arrived at their settlement, it was the 
 time of gathering their crop of corn, potatoes, and 
 pumpkins, and preserving their hickory-nuts. About 
 the beginning of the winter, some British officers came 
 amongst them, and staid with them until spring, 
 using every endeavor to obtain the discharge of the 
 two captives, but without success. Rebecca and her 
 cousin had the pleasure of seeing her brother, Abner, 
 who came with the family amongst whom he lived, 
 to settle near this place ; and as they had not seen each 
 29* 
 
342 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 other for almost twelve months, it proved very agree 
 able. Thomas Peart endeavored to animate his sister, 
 by encouraging her with the hopes of speedily obtain 
 ing her liberty ; but her hopes had so often failed, 
 that she received little consolation. 
 
 An officer among the British, one Captain Latte- 
 ridge, came and staid some time with them, and inte 
 rested himself on behalf of the prisoners, and appeared 
 in a fair way of obtaining their release ; but being 
 ordered to his regiment, he was prevented from fur 
 ther attention until his return from duty ; and after 
 wards was commanded by Colonel Johnson to go with 
 him to Montreal on business of importance, which 
 effectually barred his undertaking any thing further 
 that winter. 
 
 It afforded her many pleasing reflections when she 
 heard that six of her relatives were freed from their 
 difficulties, and Thomas Peart visiting her again, con 
 tributed, in some measure, to reanimate her with 
 fresh hopes of obtaining her own freedom. They 
 fixed upon a scheme of carrying her off privately ; 
 but when they gave time for a full reflection, it was 
 evidently attended with too great danger, as it would 
 undoubtedly have much enraged the Indians, and per 
 haps the life of every one concerned would have been 
 forfeited by such indiscretion. During the course of 
 this winter she suffered many hardships and severe 
 disappointments, and being without a friend to un 
 bosom her sorrows to, they appeared to increase by 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 343 
 
 concealment; but making a virtue of necessity, she 
 summoned up a firmness of resolution, and was sup 
 ported under her discouragement beyond her own 
 expectations. 
 
 The youth and inexperience of her cousin did not 
 allow a sufficient confidence in him, but she had often 
 to interest herself in an attention to, and oversight 
 cf, his conduct ; and it was in some measure owing to 
 this care, that he retained his desire to return to his 
 people. Colonel Butler sent a string of wampum to 
 the Indian chief, who immediately called a number of 
 the Indians together upon this occasion, when they 
 concluded to go down to Niagara, where they under 
 stood the design of the treaty was for the freedom of 
 the remainder of the prisoners ; for especial orders 
 were issued by General Haldimand, at Quebec, that 
 their liberty should be obtained. At this council-fire 
 it was agreed that they should surrender up the pri 
 soners. When they returned, they informed Rebecca 
 that Butler had a desire to see her, which was the only 
 information she could gain ; this being a frequent 
 custom among them to offer a very slight surmise of 
 their intentions. 
 
 After this the whole family moved about six miles 
 further up Lake Erie, where they staid about two 
 months to gather their annual store of maple sugar, 
 of which they made a considerable quantity. As soon 
 as the season for this business was over, they returned 
 to their own settlement, where they had not continued 
 
344 HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 long, before an Indian came with an account that an 
 astonishing number of young pigeons might be pro 
 cured at a certain place, by felling trees that were 
 filled with nests of young, and the distance was com 
 puted to be about fifty miles ; this information de 
 lighted the several tribes ; they speedily joined to 
 gether, young and old, from different parts, and with 
 great assiduity pursued their expedition, and took an 
 abundance of the young ones, which they dried in the 
 sun and with smoke, and filled several bags which 
 they had taken with them for this purpose. Benjamin 
 Gilbert was permittel to accompany them in this ex 
 cursion, which must have been a curious one for whole 
 tribes to be engaged in. 
 
 As the time approached when, according to appoint 
 ment, they were to return to Niagara and deliver up 
 the prisoners, they gave Rebecca the agreeable infor 
 mation, in order to allow her some time to make pre 
 paration. She made them bread for their journey 
 with great cheerfulness. The Indians, to the number 
 of thirty, attended on this occasion, with the two cap 
 tives. They went as far as Fort Slusher in a bark 
 canoe. It was several days before they reached 
 Niagara Fort, as they went slowly on foot. After 
 attending at Colonel Butler's, and conferring upon 
 this occasion, in consideration of some valuable pre 
 sents made them, they released the two last of the 
 captives, Rebecca Gilbert and Benjamin Gilbert jr. 
 
 As speedily as they were enabled, their Indian dress 
 
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY. 345 
 
 was exchanged for the more customary and agreeable 
 one of the Europeans ; and on the 3rd of June, 1782, 
 two days after their release, they sailed for Montreal. 
 On the 22d of August, attended by a great number 
 of the inhabitants of that place, they embarked in boats 
 prepared for them, and took their departure for home 
 and on the 28th of the following month, arrived at 
 Byberry, the place of their nativity, where Elizabeth 
 and her children were once more favored with the 
 agreeable opportunity of seeing and conversing with 
 her ancient mother, together with their other nearest 
 relatives and friends, to their mutual joy and satis 
 faction ; under which happy circumstances we now 
 leave them. 
 
 We have condensed the foregoing narrative from 
 an anonymous work, entitled "Incidents of Border 
 Life," 
 
THE EVENTFUL SHOT. 
 
 THE following narrative is given in the " Ohio His 
 torical Collections." Mr. Joel Thorp, with his wife 
 moved with an ox team, in May, 1799, from North 
 Haven, Connecticut, to Millsford, in Ashtabula county, 
 and they were the first settlers in that region. They 
 Boon had a small clearing on and about an old beaver 
 dam, which was very rich and mellow. Towards the 
 first of June, the family being short of provisions, Mr. 
 Thorp started off alone to procure some, through the 
 wilderness, with no guide but a pocket compass, to the 
 nearest settlement, about twenty miles distant, in 
 Pennsylvania. His family, consisting of Mrs. Thorp 
 and three children, the oldest child, Basil, being but 
 eight years of age, were before his return reduced to 
 extremities for the want of food. They were compelled, 
 in a measure, to dig for and subsist on roots, which 
 yielded but little nourishment. The children in vain 
 asked for food, promising to be satisfied with the least 
 (346) 
 
THE EVENTFUL SHOT. 347 
 
 possible portion. The boy Basil remembered to have 
 seen some kernels of corn in a crack of one of the logs 
 of the cabin, and passed hours in a unsuccessful search 
 for them. Mrs. Thorp emptied the straw out of her 
 bed and picked it over to obtain the little wheat it 
 contained, which she boiled and gave to her children. 
 Her husband, it seems, had taught her to shoot at a 
 mark, in which she acquired great skill. When all 
 her means for procuring food were exhausted, she 
 saw, as she stood in her cabin door, a wild turkey 
 flying near. She took down her husband's rifle, and, 
 on looking for ammunition, was surprised to find only 
 sufficient for a small charge. Carefully cleaning the 
 barrel, so as not to lose any by its sticking to the 
 sides as it went down, she set some apart for priming, 
 and loaded the piece with the remainder, and started 
 in pursuit of the turkey, reflecting that on her success 
 depended the lives of herself and children. Under the 
 excitement of her feelings she came near defeating 
 her object, by frightening the turkey, which flew a 
 short distance and again alighted in a potato patch. 
 Upon this, she returned to the house and waited until 
 the fowl had begun to wallow in the loose earth. On 
 her second approach, she acted with great caution and 
 coolness, creeping slyly on her hands and knees from 
 log to log until she had gained the last obstruction 
 between herself and the desired object. It was now 
 a trying moment, and a crowd of emotions passed 
 through her mind as she lifted the rifle to a level with 
 
HEROIC WOMEN OF THE WEST. 
 
 her eye. She fired ; the result was fortunate : the 
 turkey was killed and herself and family preserved 
 from death by her skill. Mrs. Thorp married three 
 times. Her first husband was killed, in Canada, in the 
 war of 1812 ; her second was supposed to have been 
 murdered. Her last husband's name was Gordiner. 
 died in Orange, November 1st, 1846. 
 
1