University of California Berkeley 
 
 Gift of 
 PAUL PADGETTE 
 
MVLDKOW6 ADVENTURB. 
 
THE DEATH OF JAMES BRADY. 
 
Indian alc$ for Roys 
 
 The 
 
 BACK-WOODSMAN, 
 
 AND 
 
 TRUE STORIES OF THE FRONTIER 
 
 Fantastic War Dances ; Mysterious Medicine Men ; Desparate In 
 
 dian Braves; Tortures of Prisoners; Adventures of the 
 
 Chase, etc.; Together with Thrilling Incidents, 
 
 Bloody Wars, Strange Marriage Customs, 
 
 Famous Chiefs, Efforts Civilize 
 
 the Red Men of the 
 
 Forest, Etc. 
 
 FORTY-EIGHT FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ...By... 
 
 WALTER SPOONER, 
 
 W. H. FERGUSON COMPANY, 
 
 PUBLISHERS, 
 230 and 232 East Fifth Street, ^ CINCINNATI, O. 
 
THE INDIAN BETRAYED BY HIS WHITE BROTHER. 
 
THE STORY OF SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY 
 AMONG THE INDIANS. 
 
 TRUE NARRATIVE. 
 
 AMONG the various stories of early adventure, 
 enterprise, and heroism, related in these pages, 
 none are more remarkable, or will be read with 
 greater attention, than that of O. M'. Spencer, who, 
 during a period of eight months' captivity with the 
 Indians, passed through an experience of the most 
 singular and eventful character, gaining, in that time, 
 a knowledge of the language, manners, and customs 
 of the Indian tribes, which was at once highly inter- 
 esting and instructive. This story possesses more 
 than usual interest, not only on account of the 
 exciting nature of the narrative, but also of the 
 extreme youth of the adventurer; and the insight 
 which it affords us into the early history of the 
 Western country, as well as of the character of the 
 savage races who populated it, renders it very use- 
 ful and pleasing to the thoughtful reader. 
 
 It was on a pleasant day in October, of the year 
 
 (17) 
 
1 8 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 1790, that young Spencer, then only nine years of 
 age, mounted the leading horse attached to the 
 foremost of two wagons destined to the far West. 
 In these wagons were stowed such indispensable 
 articles of household furniture as could not at that 
 time be easily procured west of the Alleghanies. 
 With spirits naturally buoyant, pleased with the 
 novelty of traveling, from which he anticipated a 
 great deal, of pleasure, the few tears which the 
 youthful emigrant shed on quitting forever the home 
 of his childhood were soon dried ; and he won- 
 dered not a little at the sober sadness of his father, 
 the deep sighs of his mother, and the frequent sobs 
 of his sisters, whose feelings ^ and expectations he 
 supposed would naturally correspond with his own. 
 
 Mr. Spencer's father had descended from one of 
 the first families who left England on account of the 
 persecutions for religious opinions, in the reign of 
 the second Charles, to seek, in the unbroken wilds 
 of New England, an asylum from oppression, and to 
 rear a temple to the God of their fathers, in which 
 they might worship "according to the dictates of 
 their own consciences." Inheriting the spirit of his 
 ancestors, he was among the first to resist the pre- 
 tensions of Great Britain, and to arm in defense of 
 American rights and liberties. Having signalized 
 himself on several occasions, particularly in the battle 
 of Springfield, N. J., at the head of a battalion of 
 militia, he was appointed, by Congress, to the com- 
 mand of a regiment, which he led i*i the battles of 
 Brandy wine, Germantown, and Monmouth; and at 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 19 
 
 the head of this regiment he continued until the 
 close of the war. 
 
 Before entering the Continental army, he had 
 become possessed of a small fortune, the fruits of 
 his industry in a lucrative business; but of this, a 
 large amount was destroyed by the enemy, and 
 more than ten thousand dollars, advanced by him 
 in specie to pay and clothe his regiment, was repaid 
 to him by Congress, in Continental money, on which 
 he sustained a total loss. Like many of his com- 
 panions in arms, after encountering the dangers and 
 enduring the hardships of a protracted war, Colonel 
 Spencer found himself at its close reduced from 
 affluence to comparative poverty; but with them, 
 too, he enjoyed the proud satisfaction of having 
 aided in achieving that independence which laid the 
 foundation of our national greatness and prosperity, 
 and the hope of perpetuating to his children's chil- 
 dren the blessings of civil and religious liberty. 
 
 With impaired health and injured constitution, he 
 again engaged in business, hoping in time to retrieve 
 his losses, and trusting in the honor and justice of 
 the government to pay his equitable claims against 
 it; but in this hope and confidence he was deeply 
 disappointed. After toiling many years with little suc- 
 cess, hearing the flattering accounts then in circulation 
 of the beauty and fertility of the Miami country, he 
 determined to explore it. He visited it in 1789; 
 and, being much pleased with it, determined to make 
 it his future home. Previous to his leaving home, 
 
 he had disposed of his certificates for his military 
 2 
 
2O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 services at one-third of their nominal value, and 
 invested their proceeds in Miami lands; and, hav- 
 ing purchased some lots, and erected a cabin in 
 Columbia for the reception of his family, he returned 
 to effect the removal. 
 
 The first few days of the journey passed very 
 heavily, the thoughtless whistle of young Spencer, 
 and the quaint expressions and occasional humorous 
 sayings of the driver, an old soldier, being all that 
 for hours broke upon the stillness of the lonely 
 woods, or varied the dull monotony of the rumbling 
 wheels. Gradually, however, the family became more 
 cheerful. Dwelling less upon the past, their thoughts 
 began to be occupied with their present condition and 
 future prospects, and they now found much to interest 
 them, and to render their journey agreeable. 
 
 From Mendham, a small village in East Jersey 
 (their late residence), their route lay through Easton 
 and Harrisburg. Passing these towns, the formida- 
 ble mountains which separate the waters of the At- 
 lantic States from those of the Mississippi Valley 
 were soon reached, and here the family were called 
 upon to exercise all their fortitude and patience. 
 Few who now make the journey by rail from New 
 York or Philadelphia to Cincinnati, with all the com- 
 forts of modern travel, can conceive of the hazards 
 incurred by the early emigrants, who, besides being 
 subjected to the greatest personal inconvenience and 
 exposure, were not unfrequently placed in imminent 
 peril of life and limb, partly from the dangerous 
 character of the roads, which were narrow in width 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 2! 
 
 and often extremely steep and even precipitous, and 
 partly from attacks by hostile Indians, who at that 
 time infested every part of the then Western country. 
 
 During the journey across the mountains, an inci- 
 dent occurred which, though happily not serious in 
 its results, caused the family considerable alarm. 
 They had taken shelter one evening in a dense 
 forest, two miles from any habitation, and, after 
 eating their slender meal, had retired for the night. 
 Young Spencer had slept, perhaps, two hours, when, 
 awaking at about eleven o'clock, he discovered that 
 his bed-fellow, a nephew a year his senior, had left 
 the wagon. After waiting some time, as he did not 
 return, he called him; and, repeating his calls louder 
 and louder, soon awakened the family. Search was 
 made in every direction, but in vain ; loud calls and 
 the firing of guns received no response but the 
 louder howling of the wolves, which, as the family 
 now believed, had torn him to pieces. But, in the 
 midst of their alarm and distress, they received the 
 welcome information of his safety. He had walked 
 in his sleep, with bare feet, and almost naked, in a 
 cold night of October, to a house about two miles 
 distant, had knocked at the door, and was admitted, 
 but did not awake until the screams of the inmates, 
 some of whom were terror-stricken, aroused him. 
 Recovering himself, he soon convinced them that he 
 was not an apparition, but a real "spirit of health," 
 and, as it was late, was kindly accommodated with a 
 bed for the night. 
 
 Before the application of steam to the propulsion 
 
22 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 of vessels, almost the only conveyance on the West- 
 ern waters was by keel and flat-boats. The latter, 
 being cheap and easily built, and intended wholly 
 for conveyance down the Ohio and Mississippi, were 
 always sought by families descending these rivers ; 
 and, as there were several places along the Monon- 
 gahela at which these boats were built, and where 
 they could be obtained on better terms than at Pitts- 
 burgh, instead of taking the direct road to that place, 
 the Spencers took a south-westerly direction to 
 Jacob's Creek, a branch of the Youghiogheny. 
 Here, having arrived and waited more than a month 
 for the building of a boat, and for a rise of water, 
 they embarked for Columbia; and, in company with 
 another family, which augmented their numbers to 
 about sixteen, they soon found themselves quietly 
 gliding down the beautiful waters of the Ohio. 
 
 The remainder of the journey was made without 
 any event of an unusual nature ; and, although the 
 emigrants were sometimes alarmed, and often appre- 
 hended an attack, they saw no Indians, and but few 
 signs of any, during their progress. Passing by 
 Pittsburgh, Wheeling, Marietta, Kanawha, Gallipolis, 
 Maysville, and a few other intermediate settlements, 
 they arrived safely at Columbia, their future home, 
 in December, 1790. 
 
 This town, like all others in the neighborhood of 
 Cincinnati, was at that time in its primitive state. 
 It had been laid out by Major Benjamin Stites, its 
 original proprietor, into blocks, each containing 
 eight lots of half an acre apiece, bounded by streets 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 1$ 
 
 intersecting at right angles, and was expected by 
 him and others to become some day a large city, the 
 capital of the great West. 
 
 It was in a small log hut in this village that the 
 Spencer family took up their residence. The doors 
 were of thick oak plank, turning on stout wooden 
 hinges, and secured with strong bars braced with 
 timber from the floor, thus forming a safe barrier to 
 the entrance below ; while above, on every side, were 
 port holes or small embrasures, from which the in- 
 mates might see and fire upon the enemy. Of 
 windows, there were but two, containing only four 
 panes of glass each, in openings so small that any 
 attempt to enter them by force must have proved 
 fatal to the intruder. 
 
 The new habitation had been occupied about a 
 month, during which time its accommodations had 
 been greatly increased, before any event occurred 
 to disturb the peace or happiness of the family. In- 
 deed, they had begun to submit to the inconven- 
 iences, privations, hardships, and dangers common 
 to the pioneers of the West, without much repin- 
 ing; and, having heard of no recent disturbances by 
 Indians in their immediate neighborhood, had begun 
 to give over their apprehension of danger. Their 
 fears were, however, suddenly aroused by the news 
 of an attack made by several hundred Indians on 
 Dunlap's Station (now Colerain); fifteen or twenty 
 miles north-west of Cincinnati, then garrisoned by a 
 few inhabitants, and thirty or forty soldiers, under 
 the command of Lieutenant Kingsbury. This intelli- 
 
24 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 gence was brought by Mr. John S. Wallace (after 
 ward Colonel Wallace), who, at the risk of his 
 life, left the garrison ,at night, passed unperceived 
 through the enemy, and reached Cincinnati the same 
 night. Of the volunteers, who marched immediately 
 to relieve the garrison, one company was from Co- 
 lumbia. All were well mounted, and armed with 
 rifles, knives, and some even with tomahawks, and 
 dressed in hunting shirts; and, thus prepared, they 
 moved off in single file. Arriving at Colerain too 
 late to encounter the enemy, who a few hours before 
 had raised the siege, they, after a short pursuit, 
 returned home. The apprehensions of the citi- 
 zens were by no means allayed by their fearful ac- 
 counts of Indian warfare and barbarity; and the 
 story of the burning of Mr. Abner Hunt, whom 
 the savages had taken prisoner a few hours before 
 their attack on the garrison, shocked them beyond- 
 measure. It is much easier to conceive than to de- 
 scribe the feelings of the garrison, when, after being 
 urged and entreated by the wretched man to purchase 
 their own safety, and, above all, his life, by surrender- 
 ing to the enemy, they saw him led off, and witnessed 
 the fearful preparations for torture ; or the heart-sick- 
 ening anguish of hope suddenly extinguished, and the 
 mute despair of the prisoner, as he heard the decided 
 though reluctant refusal of the garrison to save his life 
 at the certain loss of their own. The Indians had tied 
 their prisoner to a sapling within sight of the garrison, 
 by whom his screams were distinctly heard, and built 
 a large fire so near as to scorch him, inflicting the most 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 27 
 
 acute pain ; then, as his flesh, from the action of the 
 fire, and the frequent application of live coals, became 
 less sensible, making deep incisions in his limbs, as if 
 to renew his susceptibility of pain ; answering his cries 
 for water, to allay the extreme thirst caused by burn- 
 ing, by fresh tortures; and finally when, exhausted 
 and fainting, death seemed approaching to release the 
 wretched prisoner, terminating his sufferings by ap- 
 plying flaming brands to his naked bowels. In this 
 siege, which lasted two days, the Indians suffered 
 severely in killed and wounded, without inflicting any 
 serious personal injury on the garrison, whose princi- 
 pal loss was in cattle, destroyed or driven off by the 
 enemy. 
 
 The attack on Dunlap's Station was followed by 
 successive depredations and murders by the Indians. 
 In the ensuing spring, they attacked several boats, 
 killed many persons, and took some prisoners on 
 the Ohio. Men were killed, or made prisoners, even 
 on the outlets of Cincinnati, and near the mouth 
 of Deer Creek, and many were the hair-breadth 
 escapes from captivity or death. A Mr. Bailey, 
 while returning home one night on horseback, was 
 seized and made prisoner in the immediate neigh- 
 borhood of the Spencers by Indians who had con- 
 cealed themselves behind a large elm which grew 
 near the turnpike ; and shortly afterwards, near the 
 narrows of the Little Miami River, the brave but 
 unfortunate Newell fell a victim to the rifle and 
 scalping-knife of the savage. 
 
 The successful expedition of General Scott, of Ken- 
 
28 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 tucky, against the Indians on the Wabash, in May, 
 1791, had but little effect on the tribes to the north, 
 whose boldness and daring remained unchecked. 
 Early in the summer of that year, they stole the 
 horses of the Spencer family, two in number, from 
 a shed adjoining the cabin; and only a few days 
 afterwards the whole family narrowly escaped total 
 massacre. They had just ended their evening's re- 
 past, and were about to rise from the table, when 
 one of the women, hearing, as she believed, the 
 almost noiseless tread of approaching footsteps, 
 casting her eyes upon the door, and perceiving, 
 as she thought, the latch gently rising, sprang up, 
 and, seizing it, held it down until the doors were 
 barred. Immediate preparations were made for de- 
 fense. The lights were instantly extinguished ; and, 
 while the females of the family sought safety by cov- 
 ering themselves with beds, the men, three in num- 
 ber, with a rifle and two muskets, manned the port- 
 holes above, and, by frequently moving to the differ- 
 ent sides of the house, endeavored to impress the 
 Indians with an idea of their strength. The tread of 
 the Indians was now distinctly heard, and the forms 
 of two or three of them were indistinctly seen gliding 
 through the darkness. Their intention, no doubt, 
 had been to take the family by surprise, and, open- 
 ing the back door silently, to have first fired, and 
 then to have rushed into the house, and with their 
 tomahawks completed the work of destruction ; but, 
 being too weak in numbers to accomplish this, and 
 seeing no opportunity of making an attack, and, 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 2 9 
 
 probably, too, not wishing to alarm the town with- 
 out first effecting some mischief, they soon stole off 
 and disappeared. But a few minutes, however, had 
 elapsed before the crack of rifles within two hun- 
 dred yards was heard, followed by the shrill war- 
 whoop of the Indians. Three musket shots in 
 quick succession soon sounded an alarm; and, in 
 ten minutes, about thirty men had assembled at the 
 cabin of Ensign Bowman, on the hill-side, a short 
 distance west of the Spencer house. They found 
 the family in great consternation. The Indians had 
 fired into the house through an opening between the 
 logs, and, guided by the light within, had wounded 
 Mrs. Bowman slightly in the body. At sunrise of 
 the following day, a small party pursued the In- 
 dians, whose number, judging from their trails, 
 did not exceed six; and, toward noon, finding their 
 tracks quite fresh, and judging that they were now 
 almost in view of the enemy, moved cautiously, half 
 bent, and straining their eyes as if they would look 
 through every tree before them. Suddenly, at the 
 sharp crack of one of their own rifles, as by one im- 
 pulse, each sprang behind a tree, waiting a few mo- 
 ments, in breathless suspense, the appearance of the 
 Indians. At this moment a huge bear was seek 
 "bounding off a few rods from the left, and the dis- 
 appointed marksman was heard muttering curses on 
 his rifle for deceiving his expectations. The rest of 
 the party, however, who had strong doubts of his 
 courage, and believed that he had availed himself 
 of this opportunity to avoid an encounter with the 
 
3O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 enemy, were deeply incensed, and could with diffi- 
 culty be prevented from anticipating the decision of 
 a court-martial, by inflicting summary punishment on 
 the culprit, who, in one unlucky moment, as they con- 
 fidently believed, had deprived them of the certain 
 spoils of victory. 
 
 Soon after the failure of Colonel Harmar's expedi- 
 tion, the government determined to send a powerful 
 force against the Indians, sufficient at once to reduce 
 them to subjection. Troops were daily arriving at 
 Cincinnati, so that, in September, 1791, a large force, 
 consisting of regulars, levies, and militia, under the 
 command of General St. Clair, then Governor of the 
 North-Western Territory, was ready to march against 
 the enemy. From the known experience and distin- 
 guished reputation of the general as a soldier, and 
 the character of the officers under his command, the 
 greater part of whom had "seen service," complete 
 success was confidently anticipated ; and, in the full 
 expectation that the Indians would soon be humbled 
 into submission, and apprehending no danger while 
 a force so formidable guarded their frontiers, the in- 
 habitants of the Miami Valley enjoyed for some 
 weeks tranquillity and repose. 
 
 From Cincinnati, the march of General St. Clair's 
 army was in a direction a little west of north. Pass- 
 ing Fort Hamilton, which they had previously built 
 on the site of the present city of Hamilton, and 
 crossing the Great Miami at that place, they ad- 
 vanced about twenty-six miles; and, having built 
 Fort St. Clair, near the present town of Eaton, 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 31 
 
 marched twenty-two miles farther north, and erected 
 Fort Jefferson. 
 
 Their progress had been slow, not only from the 
 delay of building forts, but from the nature of the 
 ground over which they passed, where much labor 
 was required in opening and making a road for 
 the passage of artillery and baggage wagons. They 
 had suffered some detention, too, from the want 
 of supplies; sometimes failing from the neglect of 
 contractors, and at others interrupted or cut off 
 by the enemy. Pursuing the direct course to the 
 Indian villages on the Maumee River, or Miami of 
 Lake Erie, they had, on the 3d of November, ad- 
 vanced about thirty miles north-westwardly of Fort 
 Jefferson, and within forty-five miles of the nearest 
 town of the enemy ; while the inhabitants' of the 
 Miami settlements, who had almost daily heard of 
 the progress of the army, and who confidently 
 anticipated a complete success, were anxiously ex- 
 pecting soon to hear that a glorious and deci- 
 sive victory had been achieved. But inexpressible 
 was their disappointment, and deep was their con- 
 sternation, when, on the evening of the 6th of No- 
 vember, accounts reached them of the total defeat 
 of the army, accounts confirmed every hour by 
 fugitives, with more fearful details of Indian bar- 
 barity: and almost immediately afterward, Novem- 
 ber 8th, the broken remains of the army, who had 
 marched night and day, reached Cincinnati. 
 
 Of about fifteen hundred men who engaged in 
 battle on the fatal morning of the 4th of November, 
 
32 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 six hundred and thirty, including thirty-seven officers, 
 were killed ; and two hundred and forty-four, includ- 
 ing thirty officers, were wounded. Beside these ; a 
 number of pack horsemen, wagoners, and others at- 
 tached to the army, were killed; and of nearly two 
 hundred women, principally its followers, three only- 
 escaped about fifty were killed, and all the rest were 
 made prisoners. Had the Indians pursued their ad- 
 vantage, they might easily have cut off the whole 
 remnant of the troops, many of whom, soon after the 
 retreat commenced threw away their arms, betaking 
 themselves to flight. But, having signally defeated 
 the army, and satisfied for a time their thirst for car- 
 nage, the greater part of them remained to plunder 
 the camp ; while those who pursued the flying troops, 
 cutting off the stragglers and scalping the wounded, 
 after following them about four miles, fearing they 
 should not obtain their share of the spoil, suddenly 
 gave up the pursuit, and returned to the encamp- 
 ment. Here, after plundering and stripping the 
 dead, securing every thing that they could individ- 
 ually appropriate and, after having gorged them 
 selves with feasting, principally on slaughtered bul- 
 locks, they began to drink and carouse; and, while 
 some became stupid, others grew more ferocious 
 as they felt the influence of the "fire water," and 
 rent the air with their hideous war-whoops, acting 
 over their savage feats, cutting and mangling the 
 dead bodies. A few Indians, less ferocious, dressing 
 themselves in the uniforms of the dead officers, 
 strutted about the encampment. One of these 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 33 
 
 Mr. Spencer afterward saw, while a prisoner among 
 the Shawnees. He wore the dress coat of a field 
 officer of infantry, with silver epaulets on his shoul- 
 ders, and a watch suspended from each ear. With 
 one hand on the facing of his coat, he said: "Me 
 kill um ; " and, smiting his breast with the other, 
 vociferated: "Captain Walker! Great man me!" 
 The Indians were led by several brave and experi- 
 enced chiefs; and, beside the infamous renegade 
 Girty, and the notorious Colonel Elliot, it is said 
 that Captain McKee of the royal Americans, and 
 several of the British officers, were in the battle. 
 
 The defeat of General St. Clair was not followed 
 by those disastrous consequences which at first were 
 apprehended. Strong garrisons being kept at Ham- 
 ilton, St. Clair, and even Fort Jefferson, afforded the 
 inhabitants of the Miami settlements great protec- 
 tion ; while in Fort Washington several companies of 
 troops, more than were necessary for its defense, not 
 only gave constant security to the citizens of Cincin- 
 nati, but also the means of repelling any inroads of 
 the enemy, and of extending aid to other villages in 
 case of attack. 
 
 The winter of 1791-2 was followed by an early and 
 delightful spring. On the last of February, some of 
 the trees were putting forth their foliage; in March, 
 the red-bud, the hawthorn, and the dog-wood, in full 
 bloom, checkered the hills, displaying their beauti- 
 ful colors of rose and lily; and, in April, the ground 
 was covered with may-apple, bloodroot, ginseng, vio- 
 lets, and a great variety of herbs and flowers. At 
 
34 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 this delightful season, the settlers of Columbia weot 
 out to plough their ground and plant their crops. 
 The principal corn field was distant about a mile and 
 a half from the village, and adjoined the extensive 
 plain on which the town stood. This field was laid 
 off into lots of five acres each; and, of these lots, 
 some of the citizens owned one, and others two or 
 more : and, to save labor, the whole was enclosed 
 by one fence. Here the men generally worked in 
 companies, exchanging labor; or, in adjoining fields, 
 with their fire arms near them, in order that, in case 
 of an attack, they might be ready to unite for their 
 common defense. 
 
 Small as he then was, young Spencer did his share 
 of the work on the farm, driving the oxen, while his 
 father, followed by the corn dressers, guided the plow 
 between the rows; for, having lost their horses, they 
 were obliged to substitute cattle, which, however, fully 
 answered the purpose, being connected by a long 
 yoke, having the draft near to one of them, and so 
 permitting each to walk in a separate row. The 
 ground was very fertile, and, though quite ordinarily 
 cultivated, yielded an average crop of eighty bushels 
 of corn to the acre; and some lots, well tilled, pro- 
 duced a hundred, and, in very favorable seasons, a 
 hundred and ten bushels to the acre. An inhabitant 
 of New England, New Jersey, or some portions of 
 Maryland, would think it scarcely credible that, in 
 hills four feet apart, were four or five stalks, one 
 and a half inches in diameter, and fifteen feet high, 
 bearing each two or three ears of corn, of which 
 
SPENGER S CAPTIVITY. 35 
 
 some were so far from the ground, that, to pull 
 them, a man of medium height was obliged to stand 
 on tiptoe. 
 
 We now come to the period of Spencer's captivity 
 with the Indians of the Ohio Valley, all that has 
 been written previous to this serving merely to in- 
 troduce the more important subject. Extraordinary 
 as are the adventures which we now have to relate, 
 it is a fact which has forcibly impressed itself upon 
 the minds of all who have read Mr. Spencer's 
 remarkable, though in every respect sincere and 
 truthful, narrative, that the story has not the small- 
 est element of fiction or improbability, and is, in- 
 deed, a record of actual occurrences. 
 
 It was a time-honored custom among the pioneers 
 of this part of the Ohio Valley to celebrate the an- 
 niversary of the Declaration of Independence by a 
 grand fete at Fort Washington, the present site of 
 the city of Cincinnati ; and, to this end, the settlers 
 from all parts of the neighboring country congre- 
 gated at the fort, and passed the day in sports and 
 festivities. On the afternoon of the 3d of July, 1792, 
 the boy Spencer, in company with his sister, several 
 ladies of Columbia, and some officers, who had come 
 on the morning of that day for the express purpose 
 of acting as an escort to the party, left his home for 
 Fort Washington, where he was to spend the follow- 
 ing Fourth, and remain for a few days. The party 
 left the shore, in front of Mr. Spencer's dwelling, in a 
 fine barge rowed by eight soldiers, and were soon de- 
 
36 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 scending, with the rapid current of the river, at the 
 rate of six miles an hour. 
 
 The scenery of the Ohio, between Columbia and 
 Cincinnati, was, in those days, truly romantic, scarcely 
 a tree having been cut on either side, between the 
 mouth of Crawfish Creek and that of Deer Creek, 
 a distance of more than four miles. The right bank 
 of the river, crowned with its lofty hills, now gradu- 
 ally ascending, and now rising abruptly to their sum- 
 mits, and forming a vast amphitheater, was, from 
 Columbia, for a distance of about two miles, very 
 steep, and covered with trees quite down to the 
 beach. From this point (marked by a small island 
 in the middle of the stream), the ascent became 
 more gradual, and, for two miles further down, the 
 bank was covered with a thick growth of willows, 
 through which, in many places, it was difficult to 
 force one's way. 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. We have been thus 
 particular in describing the river between Columbia 
 and Cincinnati, not only that those who now see it 
 may have some idea of its former appearance, but 
 also that the reader may better understand the nar- 
 rative that follows. 
 
 The party in the boat enjoyed a rapid, safe, and 
 very agreeable passage down the river, and, arriving 
 at their destination, landed on the shore, and in a few 
 moments entered Fort Washington. 
 
 The morning of the Fourth was ushered in by the 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 37 
 
 discharge of thirteen rounds from the cannon of the 
 fort. At twelve the firing was repeated, and the 
 troops under arms performed various evolutions; at 
 dinner, as usual, the toasts were followed by the dis- 
 charge of artillery ; at dusk there was a brilliant ex- 
 hibition of fireworks ; and at night the festivities of 
 the day were concluded by a very agreeable and 
 sprightly ball. 
 
 The two following days were spent by young Spen- 
 cer in various boyish amusements; but, having ex- 
 hausted these, and growing tired of play, he became 
 restless and uneasy, and formed the rash, though, to 
 a youth of his age, he was at that time only eleven 
 years old, not unnatural, resolution of returning 
 home. He accordingly separated himself from his 
 companions, and, watching his chances, secretly left 
 the garrison, who, as he afterwards learned, knew 
 nothing of his absence until receiving the intelli- 
 gence of his capture. Reaching the bank in front 
 of the fort about three o'clock on the afternoon of 
 the 7th, he found a canoe, with four persons on board, 
 bound for Columbia, just about to push off from the 
 shore. Recognizing one of them as an acquaint- 
 ance, he hailed them, and requested them to take 
 him on board. This request, after a few moments' 
 consultation, was complied with, and the canoe, 
 which was small, narrow, and quite unsteady, pushed 
 out into the middle of the stream. 
 
 They had proceeded for but a short distance, when 
 one of the men, who was in a state of beastly intoxi- 
 cation, fell overboard, nearly capsizing the boat as he 
 3 
 
38 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 did so. He swam to the shore, and, as the rest of 
 the party did not care to endanger their safety by 
 again taking him into the vessel, they left him on 
 the bank, and resumed their voyage. The boy Spen- 
 cer had, however, been so much frightened by the 
 accident, that he was afraid to remain in the boat, 
 and entreated the men to set him on shore, which 
 they accordingly did; and, while the canoe continued 
 on its way within a few feet of the beach, he kept 
 pace with it, amusing himself in the meantime by 
 skimming stones over the smooth surface of the 
 water. 
 
 In the bow of the boat stood Mr. Jacob Light, 
 aiding its propulsion by a stout pole ; in the stern 
 was a stranger, a swarthy, athletic man, with thick 
 black, bushy hair, who had in his hand a paddle, 
 which he sometimes used as an oar, and sometimes 
 as a rudder; and in the center sat Mrs. Coleman, 
 an old woman of sixty. The canoe had rounded 
 the point of a small cove less than a mile below the 
 foot of the island already mentioned, and had pro- 
 ceeded a few hundred yards along the close willows 
 here bordering the beach at about two rods dis- 
 tance from the water, when the stranger in the 
 stern, looking back, and seeing the drunken man 
 staggering along the shore nearly a mile below, 
 remarked, with an oath, that he would be "bait for 
 the Indians." He had scarcely made this remark, 
 and resumed his labor, for a few moments sus- 
 pended, when Spencer (who was still walking along 
 the shore), turning his eyes from the drunken man 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 39 
 
 to the men in the canoe, saw Mr. Light spring sud- 
 denly into the river, and the stranger at the stern 
 fall over toward the shore. At the next instant, the 
 sharp crack of two rifles in quick succession was 
 heard, and, looking toward the willows, the boy saw, 
 through the thick smoke of their guns, two Indians, 
 with faces black as midnight, rushing toward the 
 canoe. 
 
 The feelings of the solitary witness of this terri- 
 ble affair, who was himself so soon to experience, 
 a treatment scarcely less merciless, may perhaps be 
 imagined, but certainly can not be adequately de- 
 scribed. For an instant he stood motionless, and 
 in this instant his brief reflection was, as he invol- 
 untarily drew down his head between his shoulders: 
 / have made some narrow escapes, but now death is 
 inevitable! One Indian was, by this time, within ten 
 feet of him ; in his right hand was the uplifted toma- 
 hawk, and in his left the naked scalping knife. Con- 
 trolled by a sort of instinct, the boy ran toward the 
 water, hoping to reach the canoe, and push out into 
 the river. As he did so, the Indian passed above 
 him down to the shore, where the body of the dead 
 stranger lay. Striking his tomahawk into the head 
 of the unfortunate man, and seizing him by the hair, 
 the Indian passed his knife quickly round the scalp, 
 and, tearing it violently off, held it up for a moment 
 in fiendish exultation. Finding that he could not gain 
 the canoe, which by this time had got out into the 
 current, and turning from the heart sickening sight 
 of the mangled man, dreading every moment a simi- 
 
4O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 lar fate, Spencer next attempted to escape by 
 running ; but he had not gone ten steps, when the 
 other Indian discovered his design and checked 
 him. Instead, however, of seizing him violently, 
 his captor approached within a few feet and ex- 
 tended his hand in token of peace. This proffer 
 was not unwelcome ; for, from what he had heard 
 of the character and customs of the Indians, Spencer 
 now knew that he was in no immediate danger, 
 and therefore became comparatively calm. 
 
 The whole of these events did not occupy more 
 than thirty seconds. The Indians had been on the 
 hill in quest of horses, when, hearing the loud crying 
 of a child in a canoe that had descended the stream 
 about ten minutes before, they came down to the 
 bank of the river, thinking they might have an oppor- 
 tunity of doing some mischief. Arriving too late 
 to injure those in the first canoe, and discovering 
 the second one about a quarter of a mile below, the 
 Indians determined to await its approach ; and, hav- 
 ing planned to kill "the men and woman, and to 
 take the youth a prisoner, they concealed themselves 
 behind a large log among the willows, from which, 
 as the voyagers came nearly opposite, they made 
 their attack. 
 
 Taking a last brief glance at the scene before 
 him, Spencer now saw that Mr. Light, though 
 wounded in the left arm, was making the best of 
 his way to the opposite shore, swimming bravely 
 out into the stream about a hundred yards from 
 the bank. The dead body of the stranger lay just 
 
"THE GREAT FATHER" AT WASHINGTON. 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 43 
 
 at the edge of the water; and Mrs. Coleman, about 
 two rods out in the river, with her clothes spread 
 over the water, and her head just above the surface, 
 was floating, apparently drowned. The empty canoe 
 had drifted out into the stream, and was slowly de- 
 scending with the current. 
 
 The Indians now hurriedly led off their prisoner, 
 the one who had captured him holding him firmly by 
 the hand, and the other following close behind, with 
 his tomahawk extended almost above his head. Thus 
 securely guarded, the youthful prisoner was led into 
 the forest and up the high hill bordering the Ohio, 
 straightway beginning his long and trying period of 
 captivity, exposure and suffering. 
 
 Crossing the road a short distance further on, the 
 Indians stopped a few moments on the hillside ; and, 
 after casting their keen glances around them, and 
 listening intently as if hearing some sound indica- 
 tive of danger, they resumed their retreat, apparently 
 satisfied that they were undiscovered. Quickly gain- 
 ing the top of the hill, they ran off, in a northerly 
 direction, at the height of their speed, one of them 
 still holding the boy by the hand, and the other fol- 
 lowing with his uplifted tomahawk. 
 
 Having gone about four miles, the Indian whom 
 Spencer now regarded as his master, seeing that his 
 prisoner's feet were bare, supplied him with a pair of 
 moccasins. In return for these, the boy offered him 
 his pocket-handkerchief, which the savage took with 
 an expression of great pleasure, receiving it as a 
 token of gratitude. To the other Indian, who hacj 
 
44 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 now put his tomahawk in his belt, Spencer, fearing 
 that he might have excited his jealousy, presented 
 his hat a gift which was not so well received, for he 
 dashed it on the ground as worthless ; but, instantly 
 picking it up (thinking, no doubt, it might direct pur- 
 suit), he carried it in his hand until evening, when he 
 burned it. Relaxing their speed (although the long 
 strides of the Indians kept the young prisoner at a 
 constant run), and still pursuing a northerly course, 
 they reached, about an hour before sunset, a small 
 stream running in a westerly direction. Entering 
 this stream, they waded up it about half a mile, 
 the leading Indian directing Spencer to step in his 
 tracks, while the other followed treading in his. 
 After proceeding for about a mile further north, they 
 encamped, at sunset, on a low point of thick under- 
 wood, near a rivulet. 
 
 Here, while one Indian kindled a fire, the other went 
 in pursuit of game, and soon returning with a rac- 
 coon, which he had killed with his rifle, proceeded to 
 dress it by singeing off the hair, and then dividing it, 
 broiled it on the fire. The Indians ate voraciously, 
 but, being exceedingly weary, Spencer could eat very 
 little; besides, he had just witnessed a most sickening 
 scene, calculated for a time to destroy all relish for 
 food. While his captor was dressing the raccoon for 
 supper, the other Indian, Wawpawwawquaw, or White 
 Loon by name, drawing from its sheath his large brass- 
 handled knife, and cutting off the limb of a small grub, 
 took from his bullet-pouch the black scalp recently 
 torn from the head of the unfortunate white man, and 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 45 
 
 cutting a small hole near its edge, and hanging it on 
 the stump of the severed limb, deliberately and care- 
 fully scraped off the thick fat ; then, forming a small 
 hoop, about six inches in diameter, with a thread of 
 deer's sinew stretched the scalp within it, as if he had 
 been preparing to dry the skin of an animal. Having 
 finished their meal, the Indians prepared for rest. 
 First tying a cord around their prisoner's neck, and then 
 extending its ends around his wrists separately, they 
 spread a blanket on the ground, and ordered him to 
 lie down. The Indians then placed themselves one on 
 each side of the lad, and, passing the ends of the cord 
 under their bodies, and covering themselves with the 
 remaining blanket, soon sank into a profound sleep. 
 
 For some time the boy lay ruminating on the sad 
 events of the day; his mind filled partly with fearful 
 apprehensions of the future, and partly with thoughts 
 of his home, to which he feared that he should never 
 return. Here, as he thought of his beloved parents 
 and affectionate sisters, and felt for the moment that 
 he should never again behold them, tears of bitter 
 regret flowed plentifully, and he could scarcely re- 
 press his sobs. Gradually, however, he became more 
 calm, and at length, overcome by fatigue, dropped 
 asleep, forgetting for a period all his sorrows. 
 
 It is now time to return to Spencer's two surviving 
 companions of the canoe adventure, Mr. Light and 
 Mrs. Coleman, one of whom, severely wounded, \ve 
 left battlino- with the current of the Ohio, and the 
 
 o 
 
 other, apparently past all rescue, floating helplessly 
 on the surface of the water. Mr. Light, as Spencer 
 
46 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 afterward learned, upon seeing the Indians retreat, 
 returned to the Ohio shore, and, evidently thinking 
 the old woman to be drowned, did not attempt to 
 save her, but immediately set out for Cincinnati, 
 where he soon arrived, and communicated to the gar- 
 rison the shocking events of the day. The com- 
 manding officer immediately despatched an express 
 to Colonel Spencer, informing him of his son's cap- 
 ture, and proposing to send out a small force of 
 regulars. While the news was spreading, a number 
 of the inhabitants of Columbia assembled, anxious 
 to pursue the Indians ; but Mr. Spencer, fearful 
 that, on finding themselves hard-pressed, they would 
 instantly kill their prisoner, returned by the express 
 a request that no troops should be sent after them, 
 and, with some difficulty dissuading his neighbors 
 from their proposed pursuit, obtained their promise 
 that they would proceed no farther than the spot 
 where the dead man still lay. 
 
 We have said that, upon, reaching the shore, Mr. 
 Light set out at once for Fort Washington, under 
 the impression that he was the only one who had 
 escaped. Judge, then, of his astonishment upon 
 learning, shortly after his arrival, of the 'safety of 
 Mrs. Coleman, and hearing from her own lips the 
 almost incredible story of her escape. Improbable 
 as it may seem, after jumping from the canoe into 
 the river, the old woman had floated with the cur- 
 rent quite down to Cincinnati, where she was taken 
 out of the water alive, and, after recovering from 
 the exhaustion so natural after a passage of this ex- 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 47 
 
 tmordinary character, had confirmed the report of 
 the day's disaster which had already been made by 
 Mr. Light. That a person rendered totally helpless 
 by inability to swim could thus escape a watery death 
 which seemed inevitable, is a circumstance so remark- 
 able as to be almost past belief; but its truth was 
 afterwards frequently asserted to Mr. Spencer by 
 Mrs. Coleman herself, as well as by others of un- 
 doubted veracity, some of whom had assisted in 
 taking her out of the water. 
 
 The news of young Spencer's capture caused a 
 sensation of profound sorrow among all who had 
 known him, both in Columbia and at Fort Washing- 
 ton, for he was a boy of uncommon brightness, 
 amiability, and promise ; and the most sincere sym- 
 pathy was extended by all to his afflicted parents, 
 who had thus been bereaved, by a calamity worse 
 than death, of an only and dearly-beloved son. The 
 shock to his parents, and especially to his mother, was 
 almost unsupportable. Often, when she thought of 
 him, she fancied that she saw him fainting with fatigue, 
 or famishing with hunger, or pining with disease; and 
 sometimes her terrified imagination represented him 
 falling by the knife, or sinking under the stroke of 
 the tomahawk, or expiring at the stake in the flames., 
 under the most cruel tortures. Nor was she relieved 
 from these distressing apprehensions, and this painful 
 state of suspense, until some time in the November 
 following, when certain information was received from 
 the commanding officer at Post Vincennes that her 
 son was still alive, and had been seen at the Indian 
 
48 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 village, near the mouth of Auglaize, only a few weeks 
 before, by Captain Wells (an Indian agent, who was 
 killed at the capture of Chicago, in the War of 
 1812), at that time a prisoner at large among the 
 Indians. 
 
 With the dawn of the morning of the 8th of July 
 the Indians awoke, and, untying the cord with which 
 their captive was bound, arose. A scanty breakfast 
 was soon made from the remains of the raccoon 
 which had been killed for their supper. The bag- 
 gage, consisting of two blankets, a bridle, a cord, 
 and a scalp, was shouldered, the priming of the 
 rifles was examined, and, before the sun arose, all 
 were marching in single file, in the direction of the 
 Shawnee villages. About noon they passed along the 
 east side of a hill, beyond which there appeared to 
 be a large opening; and here the Indians moved cau- 
 tiously, half bent, and with trailed rifles. Proceeding 
 about half a mile, they halted in a deep ravine ; when 
 White Loon, taking the bridle, and pursuing a west- 
 erly course down the hollow, soon disappeared. In 
 about ten minutes, however, he returned, mounted on 
 a fine cream-colored horse, which he had just stolen, 
 and, taking the boy up behind him, trotted off several 
 miles, the other Indian following, until, coming to a 
 thick undergrowth, they slacked their pace into a 
 brisk walk. Here they found a faint trace, which, pur- 
 suing a few miles, led them into a plain path, which, 
 as Spencer afterward learned, was the Indians' war 
 path. 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 49 
 
 The Indians seemed highly pleased with their late 
 acquisition, riding the spirited animal by turns. But, 
 alas, how uncertain are the comforts of this world! 
 About the middle of the afternoon the horse sud- 
 denly became dull, and seemingly sullen, so that he 
 could be urged forward with difficulty. At length 
 he stopped short. He had been violently attacked 
 with either bots or colic, and, now lying suddenly 
 down, began to roll and groan, sometimes struggling 
 with every limb, and sometimes dashing his head 
 against the ground. The Indians stood over him, 
 now beating him severely, and now talking to him in 
 Indian, as if expostulating with him, or threatening 
 him with vengeance in case of his remaining stub- 
 born ; but their threats had no more effect than their 
 blows, and they finally were obliged to leave him in 
 the path, and proceed without him. 
 
 This evening the party encamped in a low, rich 
 bottom, near a beautiful stream, where, having made 
 a fire, and roasted part of a young fawn, which 
 White Loon had a few minutes before killed, they 
 ate a very hearty supper, though without salt or 
 bread. After their meal, taking a small piece of 
 tobacco, and cutting it fine by passing the edge of 
 his knife between his fore-finger and thumb, and 
 receiving it as thus prepared into the palm of 
 his left hand, the White Loon, with great solemnity 
 and apparent devotion, sprinkled a few grains of it 
 on the coals, an offering, as Spencer afterward un- 
 derstood, to the Great Spirit. The Indian then min- 
 gled the rest of the tobacco with some dried 
 
5O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 sumach leaves, which he drew from his bullet- 
 pouch, and, filling the bowl of his tomahawk, smoked 
 a whiff or two, and then handed the pipe to his 
 companion, who, after smoking a few moments, re- 
 turned it. The Indians thus puffed alternately until 
 the tobacco was consumed, frequently filling their 
 mouths with smoke and forcing it through their nos- 
 trils, closing their brief use of the pipe with a peculiar 
 suck of the breath, and slight grinding of the teeth. 
 The day had been remarkably fine ; they had traveled, 
 with short intermissions, from early dawn until sunset, 
 a distance of at least forty miles; and, very weary, 
 they lay down under a spreading beech, and soon fell 
 into a profound sleep. 
 
 They had slept only a few hours, when they were 
 awakened by the roar of a tremendous hurricane 
 passing a few rods north, of them, prostrating the 
 trees with a terrible crash, and carrying devastation 
 in its broad track. Over their heads the thunder 
 broke with deafening peals, and the lightnings seemed 
 a constant sheet of flame. Spencer sprang from the 
 ground, and, gazing on the awful scene, stood motion- 
 less with terror. Expecting every moment to perish, 
 he remained for a short time unconscious of the 
 presence of a human being; but, his fear subsiding 
 a little, he ventured to look at the Indians, who were 
 standing near him. He saw them perfectly calm, ap- 
 parently insensible of danger, gazing with a sort of 
 delighted wonder, and, as the lightning flashed from 
 the dense clouds, expressing their admiration with 
 their customary exclamation : Wawhaugh ! waugh ! 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 51 
 
 On the morning of the 9th, the sun rose brightly 
 above the cloudless horizon, and shone upon a sky as 
 clear and beautiful as if it had never heen darkened 
 by clouds or torn by tempests ; and, but for the bent 
 tree tops above, and the wide-spread devastation all 
 around, one could scarcely have believed that in the 
 heavens, so bright and tranquil, desolation and ter- 
 ror had so lately held their empire. 
 
 Pursuing their journey with difficulty, for the 
 fallen trees greatly obstructed their progress, they 
 came, after a while, to a comparatively open space ; 
 and here they traveled with their former expedition. 
 Presently the tinkling of a bell was heard in the dis- 
 tance, and Wawpawwawquaw, again acting as the 
 forager of the party, went in the direction whence it 
 issued. He returned in about half an hour with an 
 old black horse, probably a pack-horse belonging to 
 the army, which had strayed off. Suspended from 
 his neck, by a broad leathern strap, was a large bell, 
 which the Indians stuffed with grass to prevent its 
 tinkling. This horse, though not so good as the one 
 that had been lost, was esteemed a valuable acquisi- 
 tion, particularly by the weary prisoner. He mounted 
 the old horse, a natural pacer, and rode very pleas- 
 antly, without interruption ; for the Indians did not 
 seem at all disposed to share it with him, but strode 
 sturdily forward, apparently insensible to fatigue. 
 
 Towards the evening of the third day, the travelers 
 halted on the south bank of a beautiful stream near 
 a small grove. Here the Indians hoppled the horse, 
 unstopped his bell, and turned him loose to graze. 
 
52 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 This done, they proceeded to secure their prisoner, 
 whom they ordered to sit down with-his back against 
 a small tree, and to this they lashed him firmly with 
 a strong cord, passing it around his neck, and then 
 with a knot around his wrists separately, fastening 
 one end to a stake which they had driven into the 
 ground, and the other to a root in the bank of the 
 stream. Placing a large piece of bark over the boy's 
 head, to shelter him from the sun, they then left him, 
 and, taking their rifles, went out to hunt. 
 
 Left thus to himself, young Spencer fell to reflect- 
 ing upon the various circumstances of his captivity, 
 and speculating upon his prospects for the future. 
 It is not strange, therefore, that the thought of mak- 
 ing his escape suddenly presented itself forcibly to 
 his mind, and that, acting upon his first impulse, he 
 promptly set about to free himself, if possible. We 
 have seen that he was of a remarkably adventurous 
 disposition, and that he had a shrewdness, judgment, 
 and resolution quite unusual for one so young. All 
 of these qualities now stood him in good stead, and 
 enabled him to act a part which would have done no 
 discredit to one of maturer years and greater phys- 
 ical capacity. 
 
 Seizing the cord with which he was bound, he at 
 first pulled it violently, attempting to break it, or 
 to detach it from the root to which it was fastened; 
 but, failing in this attempt, he next laid hold of it 
 with his left hand, and endeavored to pull it from 
 the stake. This effort was equally fruitless, and his 
 endeavor must have been without success had he not 
 
SPENCERS CAPTIVITY. 53 
 
 noticed that the cord was tied on the outside of the 
 cuff of his sleeve, and that he might possibly draw 
 his arm through it. This he succeeded in doing, and, 
 after freeing one hand, he disengaged the other in 
 the same way, and soon found himself at liberty. 
 
 His next care was to secure some provisions for 
 his journey; and then, bridling and mounting the 
 horse, he took the path which he had previously 
 followed with the Indians, and set out in the 
 homeward direction, hoping that, if he could obtain 
 a start of a few miles before his absence was dis- 
 covered, he would be comparatively safe. And, 
 indeed, it seems very probable that, had he been 
 able to travel with expedition, he would soon have 
 placed himself beyond the reach of his pursuers, 
 and, barring accidents, have accomplished his ulti- 
 mate purpose. Unhappily, however, his wishes and 
 expectations traveled faster than his horse, which, 
 although he used all his exertions, he could not 
 urge beyond a moderate pace. He traveled steadily, 
 however, until sunset, when he dismounted, and, 
 bending a small twig by the path in the direction of 
 home, he led the animal a few hundred yards from 
 the trace up a slope of woodland into a thicket of 
 sassafras, and, securing him with the bridle, went in 
 search of a lodging-place. 
 
 About sixty yards from the thicket, he found a large 
 fallen tree which, having near its roots a spacious 
 hollow, afforded a tolerable shelter. Here he deter- 
 mined to pass the night, but first set about to pre- 
 pare his evening meal. He had brought with him 
 
54 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 a piece of dried deer's meat, but he very prudently 
 resolved to lay this aside for the following day, when 
 he would need it more. He therefore made his sup- 
 per on raspberries, which grew in great abundance, 
 and, straying from bush to bush, eagerly picking and 
 eating to satisfy his hunger, paid very little attention 
 to the direction he was taking. To his great alarm, 
 after having eaten all that he wanted, he found that 
 he had lost his way, and, terrified at the thought of 
 dying in the wilderness, ran hither and thither in 
 search of the spot which he had marked as his 
 night's resting-place. This he fortunately found, 
 though after a great deal of trouble, and, exhausted 
 with his day's adventures, had little difficulty in com- 
 posing himself to rest. 
 
 He had lain for only a few moments, his mind 
 alternately occupied with hopeful anticipations of safe 
 and happy return, and despairing fears of being 
 again captured by the Indians, or falling a prey to 
 wild beasts, when he was aroused by the cracking of 
 bushes and a noise like that from short strokes on the 
 ground made in rapid succession. The cause of this 
 noise he soon perceived to be a herd of deer, which, 
 bounding through the woods, swiftly approached him, 
 one of them springing over the log under which he 
 lay, and the others leaping between him and the 
 thicket. After they had disappeared, he again lay 
 down, only to be aroused by an incident equally un- 
 expected, and, as it proved, far more unpleasant. 
 Hearing a slight rustling in the bushes, he raised 
 himself on his elbow and looked in the direction from 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 57 
 
 which it came. His consternation was no less than 
 his amazement when he saw the two savages, one 
 of whom had seized the horse by the bridle, look- 
 ing in every direction, endeavoring to discover his 
 retreat. Recovering his self-possession in an instant, 
 the boy was not slow in comprehending the situation. 
 He wisely concluded that, if he waited for the Indians 
 to find him, they, out of rage and mortification, would 
 tomahawk him where he lay; and he therefore im- 
 mediately left his hiding-place, and, falling on his 
 knees, and begging their pardon, gave himself up. 
 
 "I think," says Mr. Spencer, writing of this inci- 
 dent many years after, in his interesting narrative of 
 his captivity, " I think that I can now see the hor- 
 rible savage, my master, grinding his teeth with rage, 
 and, with a look of fiendish malice that almost froze 
 my blood, raise his rifle to his shoulder, intending to 
 shoot me. Were my mother's prayers now ascending 
 before the throne? Was my father now supplicating 
 for his lost son ? Or had the Father of mercies said, 
 4 Lay not thine hand upon the lad'?" 
 
 Just at the moment that the Indian was about to 
 discharge his gun, his companion generously inter- 
 posed, and, throwing up its muzzle, saved the boy's 
 life. A brief altercation, and then a few moments' 
 earnest conversation followed, when, setting down 
 their rifles, the Indians cut several large switches, 
 with which they proceeded to chastise the offender, 
 beating him mercilessly for several minutes over the 
 head, face, and shoulders. After administering this 
 
 punishment, they gave the boy to understand that if 
 4 
 
58 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 he again attempted to escape they would surely kill 
 and scalp him; and then, regaining the path, pro- 
 ceeded on their journey. 
 
 After a few hours' weary march, during which the 
 lad, who was this time compelled to walk, suffered 
 the most barbarous usage, being repeatedly goaded 
 with a sharp-pointed stick, and beaten with switches 
 by his master, who rode behind him, they reached the 
 place where the Indians had intended to camp during 
 the night. The young prisoner, who fancied that the 
 ill treatment which he had already received would 
 purchase him at least a night's respite from punish- 
 ment, was now tied upright to a stake, with his hands 
 pinioned so closely behind his back as almost to dis- 
 locate his shoulders, and his wrists bound so tightly 
 that the blood could scarcely circulate. In this pain- 
 ful position, with his head bruised and swollen, and 
 every limb in his body suffering from torture and 
 fatigue, he passed a night of unspeakable agony, 
 and, forgetting the late interpositions of Providence, 
 murmured against God and longed for death. 
 
 At daybreak the Indians, after eating their break- 
 fast, unbound the suffering prisoner, and, without 
 offering him any food, urged him forward with the 
 same speed as they had done the night previous. 
 About noon they descended into a rich bottom, and 
 halted on the bank of a small creek near a fine 
 spring. Near this spring grew an immense syca- 
 more, hollow at the bottom, and having on one side 
 an opening about six feet high, barricaded with logs 
 covered with brush. The Indians immediately went 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 59 
 
 to the tree, removed the brush, looked into the hol- 
 low space for a moment, and then returned, appar- 
 ently satisfied. They now made a fire, and pre- 
 pared their dinner, which was of roasted squirrels. 
 They ate their meal in silence, taking no notice of the 
 boy, who was by this time suffering the extremities of 
 hunger, having eaten nothing for thirty hours but 
 raspberries. Besides his distress for want of food, 
 he was laboring under the effects of a severe dysen- 
 tery, with which he had been seized in the morning; 
 and the pains which he suffered from his bodily 
 bruises had by no means subsided. He sat for a 
 time silent and very despondent. Looking toward 
 the opening of the hollow sycamore, he saw that it 
 appeared black within, as if it had been burned ; 
 and he was now suddenly seized with the terrible 
 apprehension that in this hole the Indians intended 
 to kindle a fire and burn him, an apprehension 
 which was increased when he reflected upon their 
 harsh and beastly treatment of him. He was, how- 
 ever, soon relieved from his dreadful anxiety, for, 
 after finishing their dinner, the Indians led the horse 
 to the tree, and by its aid dragged away the logs 
 from the opening; and the hollow which had been 
 thus barricaded now appeared to be a rude Indian 
 cabin for storing property. From this cabin the 
 Indians took a variety of articles, such as blankets, 
 deer-skins, a brass kettle, etc., and, loading the horse 
 with them, they once more continued on their way. 
 
 From the conduct of the Indians since his capture 
 the evening before, Spencer had reason to believe 
 
6O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 that he had changed masters, and this belief was 
 afterwards confirmed. Wawpawwawquaw, his new 
 master, was the son of a Mohawk chief, and, on 
 account of the almost total destruction of his nation, 
 had joined the Shawnees. He was brave and fierce 
 in battle, but at all other times, unless provoked, 
 was, for a savage, remarkably humane and kind. 
 As for the first Indian, a Shawnee, he was an 
 ugly and rascally looking fellow in countenance, 
 and his appearance did not belie his actual nature, 
 for he was wicked, brutal, and treacherous beyond 
 most of his race. 
 
 This night the party camped at a place six miles 
 west from the present town of Sidney, on the 
 Great Miami. Here, for the first time in thirty- 
 six hours, the captive made a hearty meal and 
 slept soundly, awaking greatly refreshed in the 
 morning. 
 
 Resuming their journey, they met, on the follow- 
 ing afternoon, a party of Indian hunters, the first 
 human beings that they had seen since leaving the 
 banks of the Ohio. In response to inquiries, White 
 Loon (as Spencer knew from his frequent and sig- 
 nificant gestures), entered into a detailed account 
 of the incidents connected with the ambush they 
 had set for their victims, the surprise and the fatal 
 attack, and finally exhibited as a trophy the scalp 
 which he had taken. After purchasing of the hunt- 
 ers, for a small silver broach, a piece of dried veni- 
 son, the Indians went on their way, following the 
 course of a small stream, which they had reached 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 61 
 
 the same morning, and which afterwards proved to 
 be the Auglaize. 
 
 Three hours after sunset, on the I2th of July, 
 1790, the travelers came in sight of an Indian vil- 
 lage. Wawpawwawquaw now cut a long pole, tied 
 the scalp to the end of it, and, lifting it in the air, 
 raised the scalp halloo, a shrill whoop, which both 
 Indians repeated frequently as they neared the town. 
 They found all the inhabitants, men, women, and 
 children, numbering altogether about twenty, assem- 
 bled; and, when the first greetings had been ex- 
 changed, Wawpawwawquaw stood up before the 
 company, and, with the gravity and dignity peculiar 
 to an Indian warrior, related his story. 
 
 While he was reciting the incidents of the attack, 
 a little old Indian suddenly sprang upon the boy, 
 threw him violently on the ground, and gave a loud 
 shout, accompanied by extravagant gestures and ex- 
 clamations, signifying that he had vanquished his 
 enemy. At this, the squaws began to scream, and 
 the children, down to even the small pappoose, set 
 up a shrill cry; and, had not his extreme weakness 
 excited the pity, and, therefore, enlisted the protec- 
 tion, of Wawpawwawquaw, the unfortunate prisoner 
 would inevitably have been obliged, young as he was, 
 to run the gauntlet. 
 
 From this first village they soon took their de- 
 parture, and arrived, about noon, at a second one, 
 further down the river. Here the inhabitants, although 
 they showed equal curiosity, were much more civil; 
 and an elderly and noble-looking Indian, probably 
 
62 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the village chief, took the party to his cabin, and 
 had a good meal of boiled hominy, corn-cake, and 
 venison prepared for them. The young prisoner, 
 who was almost famished, ate eagerly, and, after 
 finishing his dinner, to show his gratitude, arose and, 
 handing his hostess the bowl out of which he had 
 eaten, bowed low and thanked her. She smiled and 
 said : Enee ; that is right; you are welcome ; it is nothing. 
 
 After leaving the second village, they traveled lei- 
 surely. Toward evening, they stopped at an Indian 
 cabin on the way, occupied by Wawpunnoo, a brother 
 of Wawpawwawqua.w. Here, for the first time in six 
 nights, they slept under shelter, the prisoner lying on 
 a deer-skin with a blanket over him, and resting com- 
 fortably. 
 
 A little before noon of the i3th of July, they ar- 
 rived at the end of their long and tedious journey, 
 having traveled six days through the wilderness, and 
 passed over a distance of not less than one hundred 
 and sixty miles. The village which proved to be 
 their destination was situated at the confluence of 
 the Auglaize and Maumee rivers ; and here, selling 
 their deer-skins to a British Indian trader, the In- 
 dians crossed the Maumee to a small bark-cabin. 
 Here they left their prisoner in care of an old 
 woman, the mother of Wawpawwawquaw, and 
 departed for their homes in the village below, about 
 a mile distant. 
 
 Weak, exhausted, and suffering, his body ema- 
 ciated from hunger and sickness, and his limbs 
 swollen and aching in every joint from cruel, bleed- 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 63 
 
 ing, and festering wounds, it is not strange that, 
 upon the conclusion of his trying journey, the poor 
 lad felt a sense of relief. He had, however, some 
 misgivings with regard to the treatment that was in 
 store for him ; but these were soon removed. The 
 old woman, whose name was Cooh-coo-cheeh, at 
 once made a careful examination of his body. She 
 found him covered with bruises; his feet were so 
 swollen as to retain the impress of the finger when 
 laid upon them, and his toes, from the friction 
 of the sand collected in his moccasins, were worn 
 almost to the bone. Although not of a very tender 
 or impressionable nature, her sympathy was excited, 
 and she set about to effect a cure. This was soon 
 accomplished, for she was a very skilful medicine- 
 woman, and, applying some simple vegetable reme- 
 dies, soon restored her patient to perfect health. 
 
 This old woman was a princess of the Wolf tribe 
 of the Iroquois, who had formerly lived on the Sorel 
 River. Her husband had been a distinguished chief 
 of the Mohawks, a people once famous for their 
 superior intelligence and prowess, and who had oc; 
 cupied the country along the St. Lawrence to Lake 
 Ontario and bordering Lakes George and Champlain. 
 For many years very powerful, and, indeed, almost 
 invincible, this nation enjoyed an acknowledged su- 
 premacy over the Northern tribes until about 1770, 
 when, meeting with a disastrous defeat by the Ameri- 
 can colonists, they were scattered, and their nation- 
 ality was destroyed. The husband of Cooh-coo- 
 cheeh, with his wife, three sons, and a daughter, then 
 
64 THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 
 
 removed to the Shawnee village, a mile below the 
 mouth of the Auglaize. In October, 1 790, he re- 
 ceived a mortal wound, at the victorious battle fought 
 by the Indians against General Harmar; and irom 
 the effect of this wound he shortly after died. He 
 was a chief who was greatly beloved and widely 
 celebrated, and a warrior of the most signal bravery. 
 He was buried in a sitting posture, facing the west, 
 and, according to the custom prevalent among the 
 Indians, his rifle, tomahawk, knife, blanket, and every 
 thing which a hunter and warrior was supposed to 
 require in the spirit world, were placed by his side. 
 His long scalp-pole was, on great and important oc- 
 casions, planted by his grave ; and on this pole Spen- 
 cer once counted nineteen scalps taken from his 
 unfortunate countrymen, the hair being of all col- 
 ors and length, and streaming in the wind. 
 
 Cooh-coo-cheeh was a woman who was held in great 
 respect, reverence, and awe by the people around 
 her as one skilled in medicine and deeply versed in 
 mysterious and supernatural lore. She was both 
 priestess and prophetess, and the Indian braves, 
 before taking the war-path, never failed to consult 
 her oracles, in which they placed the most implicit 
 reliance. Like the Delphian priestess of old, she 
 delivered her prophecies in terms capable both of 
 favorable and of unfavorable construction, and so, 
 whatever was the issue of a campaign, battle, or 
 adventure, the event always was in keeping with 
 her prediction, and strengthened the opinion enter- 
 tained by her people of her wonderful powers. 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 65 
 
 The family of this old squaw consisted of. an In- 
 dian orphan girl of about thirteen, named So-to-ne- 
 goo, and a half-Indian boy of ten, called Ked-zaw- 
 saw, the son of the renegade Simon Girty. Both 
 the girl and the boy were her grand-children, and 
 were very quick and bright in temperament and 
 sprightly in action. Their mother was the wife of 
 George Ironside, a British Indian trader, who lived 
 at a trading station on the opposite bank of the 
 river. 
 
 The house in which young Spencer now took up 
 his residence was simple, but comfortably furnished. 
 The surrounding country was remarkable for scenic 
 beauty and salubrity of climate, and was very rich in 
 natural resources, the soil being remarkably fertile, 
 and the rivers and adjoining woods affording the 
 greatest abundance of fish and game. 
 
 Knowing that any attempt to escape must be un- 
 availing, and being well satisfied with the treatment 
 which he received, Spencer determined to adapt him- 
 self, as far as possible, to the circumstances in which 
 he was placed, and await with patience a change for 
 the better. 
 
 Being naturally of an observant disposition, he 
 found much to interest and instruct him in the 
 modes of life, manners, and customs of the In- 
 dians; and not the least profitable and entertain- 
 ing portion of his narrative is that in which he 
 gives the results of his observations upon Indian 
 domestic, social, and political life. Particularly in 
 describing the Indian love of display in dress, the 
 
66 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 information which he gives is highly useful, and, in 
 places, amusing. "All of the young and middle- 
 aged among the women." says he, "are passion- 
 ately fond of finery, the young belles, particularly, 
 having the tops of their moccasins curiously wrought 
 with beads, ribands, and porcupine quills; the bor- 
 ders of their leggins, and the bottoms and edges 
 of their strouds, bound with ribands, edged with 
 beads of various colors; and frequently on their 
 moccasins and their leggins small tufts of deer's- 
 hair, dyed red, and confined in small pieces of 
 tin, rattling as they walked, and forcibly reminding 
 one of the tinkling ornaments worn by the Jewish 
 women. 
 
 "Nor is the fondness for show confined to the 
 women; on the contrary, it is even stronger in the 
 men, who, in addition to the ornaments worn by the 
 women, wear large silver medals and gorgets on 
 the breast, silver rings in the nose, and heavy silver 
 rings in the ears, the rims of which, being separ- 
 ated from the cartilage by cutting, are weighed down 
 two or three inches from the head. 
 
 "A trifling circumstance may illustrate their ex- 
 treme love of show. When captured, my rounda- 
 bout and pantaloons were of plain summer wear, 
 with covered mold buttons; but my vest was of 
 blue silk, double-breasted, with two rows of small 
 plated sugar-loaf buttons, which, attracting their 
 attention, the Indians had several times examined, 
 supposing them to be silver. On the second night 
 after leaving the Ohio, the companion of Wawpaw- 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 67 
 
 wawquaw, taking my vest, cut off both rows of but- 
 tons, including a strip of two inches of silk on each 
 side, and, carefully folding them up, put them in his 
 bullet-pouch. Surprised at this conduct, and unable 
 to form any idea of his motive in spoiling my vest, 
 I thought he was actuated by a savage malignity 
 merely, and felt not a little chagrined and indignant 
 when, just before entering the first Indian village, 
 I saw him fasten the spoils of my vest around his 
 legs as garters, contrasting strangely with his greasy 
 leathern leggins." 
 
 Growing in favor with the old Indian woman, who 
 now regarded him, if not with partiality, at least, 
 with kindness, the lad, greatly improved in health 
 and spirits, was taken by her, about a week after 
 his arrival, to the Shawnee village, at the conflu- 
 ence of the two streams below. Here, after paying 
 a visit to his master, Wawpawwawquaw, by whom 
 he was very kindly received, he was taken to the 
 tent of the famous Indian chief Blue Jacket. This 
 celebrated personage Spencer pronounces in his 
 narrative to have been the most noble-looking In- 
 dian that he ever saw. With a stature of about six 
 feet ; a perfectly-proportioned body ; large, bright, 
 and piercing eyes ; a nose of aquiline shape, and 
 an open and intelligent countenance, he presented 
 altogether an appearance which might have done 
 no discredit to many of "the superior race." He 
 was very richly dressed, and wore on his shoulders 
 a pair of gold epaulettes, and on his arms broad 
 silver bracelets; while from his neck depended a 
 
68 . THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 massive silver gorget, with a medallion portrait of 
 George III. 
 
 It happened that on the day when the boy Spen- 
 cer was taken into the presence of Blue Jacket, that 
 chief had received a visit from some of the sachems 
 of the neighboring villages. Among the visitors 
 were a chief called The Snake, a plain, grave, and 
 sage-appearing man, and with him the infamous rene- 
 gade Simon Girty. The villainous cast of counte- 
 nance of the latter, and the sinister, brutal, and 
 forbidding expression which never was absent from 
 his face, did not have the effect of removing the un- 
 favorable opinion which the lad had already formed 
 of the notorious bandit and renegade, the cowardly 
 murderer of his own people, and the inventor of 
 many of the cruel and diabolic devices in use among 
 the savages for torturing unhappy victims. He was 
 dressed in the Indian garb, but wore no ornaments or 
 trappings. A silk handkerchief, which supplied the 
 place of a hat, hid a ghastly wound on his forehead 
 which had been inflicted by the Indian chief Brandt, 
 with his tomahawk, in a drunken brawl, but which 
 Girty (who now addressed himself to the youth, 
 speaking with the greatest bitterness of the wrongs 
 which had been done him, and boasting with the 
 most savage exultation of the vengeance which he 
 had wrought) asserted to be a saber-cut received at 
 St. Clair's defeat from a "Yankee officer," whom, 
 he said, "he had afterwards killed." Girty con- 
 cluded his conversation with Spencer by telling him 
 that he must never hope to see his home again, and 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 69 
 
 adding that, if he "should turn out to be a good 
 hunter and a brave warrior, he might one day be 
 a chief." 
 
 After a short stay in the village, the old woman 
 returned with her charge to the cabin. A few days 
 later, she took Spencer across the river to the resi- 
 dence of her daughter, the wife of Mr. Ironside, 
 the trader. Here the boy found a number of traders' 
 cabins, occupied chiefly by French and English, who 
 carried on a large exchange business in merchandise, 
 and also bargained with the Indians for skins and 
 furs, for which they gave broaches, ear-rings, and 
 other trifling ornaments, reaping immense profits. 
 
 During his stay with the traders, the lad spent a 
 large part of his time in conversation with Mr. 
 George Ironside, who treated him with great kind- 
 ness and friendship. He found his host a sociable 
 and highly intelligent, as well as a humane and be- 
 nevolent man, who listened to the story of his cap- 
 tivity with marked attention and interest, and, when 
 he had finished, gave him some useful advice and 
 information. 
 
 The following day was also spent at the trading 
 station. On this day, to his great astonishment and 
 gratification, he met, at the house of Mr. Ironside, a 
 former fellow-townsman, William Moore by name, 
 Avho had just returned from a journey to the rapids 
 of the Maumee River. After a greeting of great 
 heartiness on both sides, Moore prevailed upon his 
 young friend to tell his story, which the boy accord- 
 ingly did, his companion listening in the meantime 
 
7O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 with great apparent approbation of the endurance 
 and heroism shown by the youth. After Spencer 
 had related the story of his adventures, Mr. Moore 
 was persuaded to tell his ; and, as his experience is 
 of a most interesting character, scarcely less so, in- 
 deed, than that of his youthful friend, already tran- 
 scribed for the diversion of our readers, we may be 
 pardoned for writing it out in brief in the present 
 narrative. 
 
 William Moore was, perhaps, as fine a physical 
 specimen of the sturdy pioneer as could be found 
 at that time in the whole West. He possessed a 
 stalwart frame, a constitution of iron firmness and 
 endurance, an enormous muscular development and 
 strength, and a commanding stature, being no less 
 than six feet two inches in height. He combined 
 all the qualities necessary or useful to the early set- 
 tler of the Western wilds, being as bold and skillful 
 in enterprise as he was strong and active in body, 
 and having few rivals as a successful boatman and 
 hunter. He was remembered by young Spencer as 
 one of the most practised marksmen in that part of 
 the country, who, at fifty steps, had often sent a 
 rifle-ball to the center of the target, as well as a 
 boatman of unexcelled skill, always pushing the first 
 pole on the keel. In every manly sport, such as 
 jumping, wrestling, boxing, etc., he had no equal in 
 the village. He was fearless and lawless in enter- 
 prise, but naturally good-humored and sociable as a 
 companion ; and of no one could it be said more 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 7 I 
 
 accurately than of him, that he was a perfect speci- 
 men of the Western pioneer at his best. 
 
 One day, while hunting, about five miles north of 
 Columbia, on the waters of Mill Creek, the time 
 was a few months previous to the canoe adventure 
 related in this history, Mr. Moore was suddenly 
 surprised by five Indians, one of whom was Waw- 
 pawwawquaw, and another Caw-ta-waw-waw-quaw, 
 Black Loon, his brother. Moore had just shot a 
 very fine doe, which, strapping over his shoulders, 
 he was about to carry home. The Indians had dis- 
 covered him some time previous, but, seeing his 
 purpose, they prudently postponed their attack until 
 he should be encumbered with his load, and so be 
 unable to m.ake his escape by flight. They sur- 
 rounded him very cautiously, and, watching their 
 chances, fired just at the opportune moment. One 
 of their balls grazed his right shoulder-blade ; another 
 passed through the carpus or compact bones of his 
 left wrist, thus disabling one hand; the rest were 
 without effect. Although carrying a load which a 
 man of ordinary strength would have had great 
 difficulty even in lifting, Mr. Moore sprang forward 
 with great rapidity, and, incredible as it may seem, 
 for the first hundred yards outran the light-footed 
 Indians. He must, however, soon have sunk be- 
 neath the weight of his burden, had he not con- 
 trived to rid himself of it. Without slackening his 
 speed, he placed his rifle on his left shoulder, sup- 
 porting it with his wounded hand, and with the other 
 drew his knife from his belt, and cut the lashings 
 
72 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 which bound the deer; and, his load falling to the 
 ground, he was soon out of reach of all but two of 
 his pursuers. 
 
 The two foremost savages, seeing that the utmost 
 exertion alone could enable them to secure him, 
 now pressed forward with eagerness, and, as Moore 
 reached the top of a ridge, had so nearly overtaken 
 him, that one of them was only a rod or two in his 
 rear. Chancing to look back at this moment, and 
 seeing his danger, Moore gave a loud whoop, and, 
 slapping his thigh in derision, bounded off with such 
 speed that, had it not been for an unlucky accident, 
 the Indians must needs have given up the pursuit as 
 hopeless. Reaching the foot of a hill, he attempted 
 to leap a small creek which crossed his path, but, 
 miscalculating his distance, he jumped short of the 
 opposite bank and fell into the water, and, by the 
 time that he had regained his feet and recovered his 
 rifle, Wawpawwawquaw, pistol in hand, was upon him. 
 
 Before grappling with his enemy, the Indian twice 
 aimed his pistol at him, but each time it missed fire. 
 The compliment was returned by Mr. Moore, who 
 leveled his rifle, but with no better success. He 
 now attempted to knock down his adversary with the 
 butt end of his gun, but, failing in this, he drew his 
 knife, and was about to attack the savage, when the 
 second Indian, the brother of Wawpawwawquaw, 
 arrived and interfered. Further resistance was now 
 useless, and Moore accordingly surrendered himself 
 to Wawpawwawquaw, who, giving him a friendly grasp, 
 received him as his prisoner. 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 73 
 
 During the march through the forest, Moore was 
 well treated, although narrowly watched and securely 
 guarded. Any attempt to escape must have been 
 vain and attended with disastrous results, for his five 
 captors were all stalwart and intrepid warriors, who 
 well knew the strength and valor of their prisoner, 
 and who consequently kept him under the strictest 
 surveillance. 
 
 f 
 
 Arriving, in a few days, at Blue Jacket's village, 
 Moore, as a man and warrior, was compelled by the 
 Indians to pass through the severe ordeal of running 
 the gauntlet. On the day appointed for the trial, 
 large numbers of men, women, and children flocked 
 to the village from the surrounding country, and with 
 clubs, switches, and other instruments of punishment, 
 ranged themselves, to the number of about two hun- 
 dred, in two rows, each ready and eager to act a part 
 in the interesting ceremony. The chiefs and princi- 
 pal warriors took their places at the heads of the 
 lines, and, when every thing was ready, the prisoner, 
 stripped to the waist and with his wrists tied to- 
 gether, so as to prevent him from retaliating on his 
 enemies, was led out and started on his run to the 
 goal. 
 
 The Indians, although they were aware of Moore's 
 great strength and agility, evidently did not calculate 
 on the possibility of his evading their blows and es- 
 caping serious personal injury. But, improbable as 
 it may seem, so rapidly did he pass through the lines, 
 that the sticks and clubs of the Indians, instead of 
 
 striking his body, fell clattering upon each other, and 
 5 
 
74 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 he reached the first goal almost without receiving a 
 blow. His return was made with equal fleetness, and 
 he would have entirely escaped bodily harm, had not 
 the Indians, disappointed in thus losing the sport 
 which they had anticipated, closed their ranks, and 
 commenced to belabor him in the most merciless 
 manner. Finding that his appeals to their sense of 
 honor and justice were vain, Moore determined to 
 demonstrate still more effectively his prowess and 
 bodily superiority ; and, attacking his enemies with 
 his feet, head, and right fist, kicked some and over- 
 turned and knocked down others, until those that 
 remained were glad to fall back, and allow him. to 
 continue on his way to the goal in the usual man- 
 ner. This he did amidst the shouts of the warriors, 
 and, arriving at his destination, he was congratulated 
 by his admiring enemies, and rewarded with the 
 highest honors for the signal bravery which he had 
 displayed. 
 
 Moore's stay in the Indian village was attended 
 with little incident of an unusual character. He was 
 peaceable and friendly, and not only was unmolested, 
 but even enjoyed freedoms and privileges not often 
 granted to prisoners of war. He was a great favor- 
 ite of Cooh-coo-cheeh, to whom he showed himself 
 very attentive and obliging, for, being a skillful work- 
 man, he made himself useful about her house, adding 
 largely to its conveniences, and building a separate 
 cabin for the accommodation of guests. 
 
 
 
 Mr. Moore's narrative afforded his young friend 
 
WILLIAM MOORE RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 
 
A WAMPANOAG INDIAN IN F..LL WAS PAINT. 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 75 
 
 great entertainment, and the exchange of stories of 
 adventure and of observations on the habits and 
 character of the Indian tribes, employed a few days 
 very enjoyably spent. 
 
 About the middle of August, the interesting and 
 peculiar ceremony of the "feast of green corn" was 
 celebrated by the Indians of the neighboring villa- 
 ges at the cabin of Cooh-coo-cheeh. This ceremony 
 or festival, said to be similar to that of "first fruits" 
 among the Jews, had been observed each .year, from 
 time immemorial, by the more wealthy and influential 
 of the savages, to testify their gratitude to the Great 
 Spirit ; and on these important occasions all of the 
 prominent families were accustomed to assemble, 
 spending the day in festivities, feasting principally 
 on green corn, variously cooked, and amusing them- 
 selves with games and athletic sports. 
 
 After the usual salutations, the Indians seated 
 themselves on the grass, and the pipe, according to 
 custom, was passed several times around the circle. 
 A venerable Indian then arose and addressed the 
 company with great earnestness and solemnity. His 
 discourse, as Mr. Ironside afterward informed young 
 Spencer, was of the character of- an anniversary ser- 
 mon. He spoke of the favors conferred by the Great 
 Spirit on his red children, the first and most honora- 
 ble of the human race, and exhorted his hearers to 
 give all praise and devotion to their benefactor. He 
 bitterly reproached the young warriors for their pusil- 
 lanimity in allowing the "pale faces" to encroach on 
 the possessions of the Indian tribes, and declared 
 
76 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 that it was their duty to expel their enemies frorr 
 their shores, at least to drive them south of the 
 Ohio. After the conclusion of this address, which 
 was listened to with very deep attention, the Indians 
 sprang to their feet, uttered a loud and prolonged 
 yell, and then proceeded to engage in the sports of 
 the day. 
 
 The first of these was a foot-race over a straight 
 course of -one hundred yards. The principal com- 
 petitors were Wawpawwawquaw, his two brothers, 
 and another Indian, Captain Walker. Moore was 
 not allowed to join, and with good reason, for, as 
 he afterward declared, he would willingly have given 
 any one of his adversaries twenty steps and beaten 
 him in a hundred yards. The race was easily won 
 by Wawpawwawquaw. 
 
 Next followed a wrestling-match, in which Captain 
 Walker was the victor. It was now proposed that 
 Walker, who had shown great strength and address 
 in his previous contests, should wrestle with 
 Moore, who had thus far been an inactive spectator 
 of the sports. To this proposal Walker very reluc- 
 tantly gave his consent, and advanced slowly to meet 
 his antagonist. After a few. feints and sleights, such 
 as are usually employed by practised wrestlers to try 
 one another's strength, the struggle became very 
 earnest, and for some time the result appeared to 
 be doubtful. At length, however, Moore, taking ad- 
 vantage of an unguarded movement of his opponent, 
 tripped up his foot and threw him to the ground, 
 although partially supporting him in his arms to 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 77 
 
 break the force of the fall. Another trial followed, 
 in which Walker, stung by mortification, put forth all 
 of his strength ; but this time his success was even 
 less than before, for Moore, by a powerful effort, 
 raised him by the hip, pitched him head over heels, 
 and threw him with great violence. The Indians 
 greeted Moore's victory with an admiring waugh! 
 and, as it was now about noon, the sports were sus- 
 pended for a time. 
 
 In the feast which followed, provisions in the great- 
 est variety and abundance were distributed, and the 
 Indians, as was customary with them on all festal oc- 
 casions, literally gorged themselves with food. After 
 dinner, the warriors indulged for a time in the luxury 
 of smoking, and each consumed a small measure of 
 rum, when the festive games were resumed, and the 
 rest of the day was passed in various sports and en- 
 tertainments, followed in the evening by a drunken 
 carouse. 
 
 During his captivity, Spencer had occasion to ob- 
 serve that the Indians were immoderately fond of 
 strong drink, regarding it as the highest enjoyment 
 of life to pass hours and even whole days in drunken 
 revels. When in their intoxicated moods, they were 
 extremely dangerous, quarrelsome, and violent, at- 
 tacking both friends and foes with murderous fury. 
 "At such times," he says, "it is peculiarly dangerous 
 for prisoners (many of whom fall a sacrifice to the 
 brutal barbarity of drunken Indians) to encounter 
 them." On one occasion he saw in a canoe the body 
 of a white youth of fourteen, who had been killed, 
 
78 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 scalped, and mangled in the most horrible manner by 
 his drunken master. He himself had several very 
 narrow escapes from death at the hands of intoxi- 
 cated savages, being frequently obliged, on hearing 
 the dreaded sound of some marauding savage ap- 
 proaching the cabin, to spring from his bed in the 
 middle of the night and take refuge behind the 
 nearest log or tree, or throw himself in the snow. 
 Once he very narrowly escaped being murdered in 
 his bed. Black Loon, whom he had in some way 
 offended, came into the cabin one night and in- 
 quired for the boy, who, hearing him approaching, 
 had seized a blanket and run out of the house. 
 Being told that his intended victim was absent, the 
 Indian struck his knife several times through the 
 skins on his bunk to satisfy himself of the truth of 
 the statement, and then, being disappointed, and de- 
 termined upon bloody revenge of some kind, seized 
 a cat which lay sleeping on the floor and threw it in 
 the fire, where he held it with his foot, the poor 
 animal squalling most piteously all the time. 
 
 About the middle of October, 1792, the Indians 
 learned that the whites were strengthening their 
 forces on the Ohio, ostensibly in preparation for 
 another attack on the villages. A large band of 
 warriors was accordingly mustered under the com- 
 mand of the chief Little Turtle, and about fifty of 
 the best men in the Shawnee villages were sent to 
 join it. Before setting out on their march, they 
 halted at the cabin of Cooh-coo-cheeh, to consult 
 her on their prospects of success. The answer was : 
 
SPENCER S CAPTIVITY. 79 
 
 "Mechee! mechee ! mechee!" many scalps, many 
 prisoners, much plunder; and the Indians departed 
 in full expectation of complete victory. In the course 
 of a month they returned, their confidence in the 
 prophetic powers of the old woman in no degree 
 lessened ; for they had defeated a large body of 
 Kentuckians near Fort St. Clair, taking many scalps, 
 capturing many horses, and carrying off great quan- 
 tities of baggage. 
 
 As time wore on, the young prisoner, hearing 
 nothing from home, grew more and more recon- 
 ciled to his lot. And, determined to make the best 
 of all around him, he gradually found that the life 
 of an Indian captive, though one of constant trial 
 and often of extreme danger, was not without its 
 amenities. The labor required of him was light. 
 He had little to do but carry water, gather wood for 
 cooking, and attend to other little household mat- 
 ters. Having plenty of leisure, he determined to 
 render himself worthy of still greater consideration 
 from his captors by gaining, if possible, a reputation 
 for skill and daring in some of the manly exercises 
 practised by the Indians. 
 
 He, therefore, asked one of the warriors for a bow 
 and arrows, which, being promptly given him, he pro- 
 ceeded to put into use. In a short time he became 
 very expert, frequently shooting birds and small 
 animals, and on one occasion killing a very large 
 rabbit, which he took home to the old woman, who 
 received it with great pride and satisfaction. He 
 was sometimes permitted to visit the trader's station 
 
8O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 on the other side of the river; and here he was 
 always received with marked kindness by Mr. Iron- 
 side and the other residents. He also occasionally 
 met visitors from other parts of the country and 
 prisoners at large; and, as we shall see hereafter, 
 the opportunities which he thus enjoyed resulted in 
 the end to his no small personal advantage. 
 
 One cold afternoon in December, he was sent by 
 the old woman to cut and bring home an armful of 
 wood. He took with him a sharp axe, and was ac- 
 companied by the faithful dog belonging to Cooh- 
 coo-cheeh, a large and very powerful animal. Hav- 
 ing chopped up some small limbs, and tied the wood 
 into a bundle, he was about to return, when his atten- 
 tion was attracted by the dog, which was growling 
 and barking furiously near a small tree. Picking up 
 his axe, he went to the spot, and, looking into the 
 tree, saw, on a limb, about sixteen feet from the 
 ground, a large, grayish, cat-like animal crouched 
 ready to spring. Ignorant of the nature of the 
 animal, and not thinking of danger, he threw sev- 
 eral sticks at it, one of which, striking it on the 
 head, aroused its fury, and brought it to the ground. 
 It was instantly seized by the dog, which battled 
 with it for a few moments very courageously. But 
 the animal fought so fiercely and savagely that it 
 soon gained the advantage, and the dog, if left to 
 itself,, would ere long have been overpowered and 
 slain. The boy now became conscious of the dan- 
 ger in. which he stood, and, grasping his axe, dealt 
 the beast a powerful blow on the head, which luckily 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 81 
 
 completely stunned it. To dispatch the animal was 
 the work of but a moment, and Spencer carried it 
 home in exultation. Reaching the house, he threw 
 down his burden before Cooh-coo-cheeh, who, rais- 
 ing her hands in astonishment, exclaimed: "Waugh 
 haugh-h: poo-shun ! " and then loaded him with 
 praises, saying that he would one day become a 
 great hunter, and, pointing to So-to-ne-goo, told 
 him that when he grew to be a man he should 
 have her for his wife. The animal proved to be a 
 large male wild-cat, measuring about four feet from 
 his nose to the end of his tail, and being nearly 
 equal in size and strength to a panther; and, had he 
 encountered it alone, the boy, in spite of his courage, 
 must inevitably have been killed. 
 
 The winter passed without any occurrences worthy 
 of special note. It was extremely cold, in December 
 and January in particular, and the lad suffered a great 
 deal from exposure, being frequently obliged to go 
 out in the snow and frost in his bare feet, and with- 
 out clothing sufficient to protect him from the biting 
 cold. He continued to grow in favor with the old 
 woman, who, however, though kind and considerate 
 in the main, had some not very amiable traits of 
 character. She was very quick-tempered, and at 
 times extremely vicious, and when in her angry 
 moods did not scruple to inflict summary pun- 
 ishment on the object of her wrath, -often hurl- 
 ing sticks of wood, pokers, and heavy articles of 
 household furniture at any one who chanced to pro- 
 voke her; or, if these were not convenient, seizing 
 
82 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 a knife, axe, or other weapon and threatening venge- 
 ance. 
 
 One evening toward the last of February a stranger 
 called at the cabin, and, taking Cooh-coo-cheeh aside, 
 communicated to her a piece of intelligence which 
 evidently gave her great concern, for she sat for a 
 time brooding in silence. After a while she became 
 more cheerful and talkative, and, inviting the boy to 
 sit near her and her guest, commenced to converse 
 with him about his home and parents. She asked 
 him many questions, chiefly relating to the history 
 and rank of his family. To these he replied that his 
 ancestors had come from a famous island on the east- 
 ern side of the great salt lake; that one of them had 
 emigrated to this country and settled near New York, 
 and that he himself, with his beloved father and 
 mother, had several years previous come to the great 
 West, hoping to live in peace, and gain, by honorable 
 labor, a comfortable support. 
 
 When the boy had finished his narration, the old 
 woman sat for a few moments silent and morose. 
 Again resuming the conversation, she spoke in tones 
 of deep melancholy of the misfortunes and wrongs 
 of her own race. She told about the first landing 
 of the pale faces from their monstrous white-winged 
 canoes, of their early settlements, prosperity, and 
 wonderful growth in numbers and strength, and 
 finally of their encroachments upon the Indian tribes, 
 many of whom they exterminated. She said that the 
 rightful owners of the soil had been gradually de- 
 prived of their possessions, and were now being 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 83 
 
 crowded to the extreme North to perish on the great 
 frozen lake; or to the distant West, where the rifles 
 of the white men would soon push their scattered 
 remnants into the deep sea. All of these misfort- 
 unes she attributed to the anger of the Great Spirit, 
 who had punished her race for their pusillanimity and 
 crimes, and had passed- the stern though righteous 
 decree that the red men should ere long be destroyed 
 from the face of the earth, and sleep in unknown and 
 unhallowed graves. 
 
 At the conclusion of this melancholy relation, the 
 old woman changed her tone, and, with a very ani- 
 mated countenance, proceeded to describe the pleas- 
 ures in store for her race in the beautiful and bound- 
 less hunting-grounds set apart by the Great Spirit 
 as their future abode. These, she said, lay beyond' 
 the western ocean, and were ten times as large as 
 the whole continent of America, extending to the 
 farthest limits of the earth. Here there were no 
 extremes of heat or cold, wet or drought ; no one 
 suffered disease, and age and infirmity were un- 
 known; all fruits of the earth grew in abundance 
 without needing cultivation, and the woods were 
 filled with every description of game. Pointing to 
 a large poplar which grew near the house, whose 
 trunk was five or six feet in diameter, and whose 
 stem rose eighty feet without a limb, she said that 
 the trees in the country of which she spoke were 
 twenty times its size, and that their branches seemed 
 to penetrate the heavens, bearing company with the 
 stars. Every thing in this favored region was en- 
 
84 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 dowed with eternal life and unfading beauty, and 
 here the Indian was to be the sole possessor, undis- 
 turbed by the cruel and avaricious white man. 
 
 " No fiends torment ; no Christians thirst for gold." 
 
 The Indian's wishes for the future, she said, were as 
 simple as his expectations were ardent and confident. 
 
 "To be contents his natural desire, 
 He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire, 
 But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
 His faithful dog shall bear him company." 
 
 The two listeners heard her glowing and eloquent 
 .description with great attention and intense admira- 
 tion. The stranger, who was a Canadian French- 
 man, gave expression to his wonder by frequent 
 exclamations, but once or twice turned to the boy, 
 'smiling incredulously, and remarking: "Ma foi! dat 
 is grand country!" 
 
 On the next morning, much to his surprise, young 
 Spencer was taken apart by Cooh-coo-cheeh, and in- 
 formed by her that his captivity had come to an end, 
 and that he was to depart immediately on his home 
 journey. He was not long in ascertaining the causes 
 which had led up to this earnestly wished-for result. 
 While visiting the traders' station on the other side 
 of the river, he had one day met a Mr. Wells, a 
 prisoner-at-large among the Indians, who, becoming 
 interested in him, had inquired very particularly- con- 
 cerning his family, and shortly afterward communi- 
 cated the intelligence of his safety to the commanding 
 officer at Post Vincennes. By him it was conveyed 
 to Colonel Wilkinson, at Fort Washington, who lost 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 85 
 
 no time in transmitting it to Mr. Spencer. Negotia- 
 tions for the ransom of the prisoner were at once 
 entered into, and these resulted in the dispatch of a 
 messenger, by the Governor of Upper Canada, with 
 the necessary purchase money, to release him and 
 convey him to his home. 
 
 The preparations for the return journey were 
 speedily made, and, full of joyful anticipation, the 
 lad announced to his friends that he was ready to 
 set out. He soon reproached himself, however, for 
 his alacrity; for the old' woman, gently taking both 
 of his hands in hers, her voice trembling with emo- 
 tion, and her eyes filled with tears, told him of the 
 great pain which she felt at parting, since she had 
 come to regard him almost as her own child. She 
 spoke of the happiness of his friends, and particu- 
 larly of the joy of his mother on his safe return, and 
 concluded by requesting him to come and see her 
 when he grew to be a man. So-to-ne-goo was no less 
 affected, sobbing loudly as she took his hand ; and the 
 boy left his Indian friends with the grateful conviction 
 that even in the wilderness the oppressed can gain an 
 asylum, and that even among barbarians there can 
 be found persons capable of generous and worthy 
 emotions. 
 
 Leaving the cabin, young Spencer crossed the river 
 in the company of his French conductor to the traders' 
 station. Here he was kindly received by his friend, 
 Mr. Ironside, who congratulated him on his release, 
 and then introduced him to Colonel Elliot, a British 
 Indian agent, and to Mr. Sharp, a Detroit merchant. 
 
86 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 We have said that the purchase of the prisoner 
 from the Indians was effected by Spencer's parents 
 through the agency of the Governor of Upper 
 Canada. This step was rendered necessary by 
 reason of the fact that a deadly enmity existed 
 between the Indians and the American settlers on 
 the Ohio; whereas, the British in Canada were on 
 very amicable terms with the savage tribes through- 
 out this part of the country ; and consequently all en- 
 gotiations were carried on through them. The ransom- 
 money had therefore been sent by way of Canada; 
 and, on its receipt, Colonel Elliot had been dis- 
 patched from Detroit to bring the boy to that point. 
 
 Elliot received his young charge very coolly, and 
 took an early opportunity to inform him that, although 
 he was now out of the hands of the Indians, he must 
 by no means consider himself at liberty. This lan- 
 guage gave the boy much concern, which was greatly 
 heightened when Elliot told him plainly that he had 
 not been set free, but had merely changed masters, 
 being his (Elliot's) property ; and that he must gov- 
 ern his conduct accordingly. 
 
 The wife of Mr. Ironside now invited the boy to 
 breakfast ; but Colonel Elliot objected, and directed 
 him to go over to the cabin of James Girty (the 
 brother of Simon Girty), where a meal would be 
 provided. This he did ; and, sitting down to a table 
 very bountifully provided, commenced to eat with 
 great heartiness. He had hardly satisfied the first 
 cravings of his appetite, when Girty came in, and, 
 eying him sharply, said : 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 87 
 
 "So, my young Yankee, you're about to start for 
 home." 
 
 "Yes, sir; I hope so," the boy replied. 
 
 "That," returned Girty, "will depend a great deal 
 on your master, who, I think, intends to give you em- 
 ployment for two or three years in his kitchen as a 
 scullion." 
 
 He then took a knife from his pocket, and, whetting 
 it on a stone, said : 
 
 " I see your ears are whole yet, but I am greatly 
 mistaken if you leave this place without the Indian 
 ear-mark, in order that we may know you when we 
 catch you again." 
 
 Without waiting to learn whether this threat was 
 meant in jest or earnest, Spencer sprang from the 
 table, leaped out of the door, and took refuge in the 
 house of Mr. Ironside. Here he found Elliot, who 
 heard his complaint with a sardonic laugh, and a look 
 of ineffable contempt, ordering him to get ready at 
 once for the journey. 
 
 Embarking on the Maumee, Elliot and Sharp pro- 
 ceeded with their young companion in the direction of 
 Detroit. The first part of the voyage was made with- 
 out incident, and with little conversation. On the first 
 night, the party slept at a Wyandot village ; and about 
 the middle of the afternoon of the next day, landing a 
 few miles from the mouth of the Maumee, Elliot and 
 Sharp, having first contracted with some Indians for 
 a gallon of rum to take the boy the rest of the way, 
 bade him adieu, and left him once more to the tender 
 mercies of the savages. 
 
88 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 The Indians, eight or ten in number, immediately 
 commenced to drink, carouse, and fight. Among 
 them was a youth of about fourteen, who, seeing the 
 boy standing quietly by a tent, came up to him, and 
 proposed a wrestling-match. This challenge Spencer 
 refused, on account of the great disparity in their 
 years, size, and strength ; but, being urged, he at 
 length consented. The result was more fortunate 
 than he had expected ; for, being quite strong and 
 active for one of his years, he proved more than a 
 match for the young savage, and in a few seconds 
 laid him sprawling on the ground. A second trial 
 had the same issue ; and the Indian youth was obliged 
 to beg piteously for quarter before his antagonist 
 would permit him to rise from the ground. Mortified 
 and enraged, the unskillful wrestler now commenced 
 to blackguard his victor ; and, seizing him by the hair, 
 and passing his finger around his head, declared that 
 he would scalp him. This treatment naturally ex- 
 cited young Spencer's resentment, and, dealing the 
 'insolent youth a severe blow in the stomach, he com- 
 pelled him to desist. Placing himself in an attitude 
 of defense, he then gave his opponent to understand 
 that any attack would be repaid with interest ; and, 
 so well had he maintained his ground, that he was 
 left unmolested. Presently, however, having turned 
 around and walked a few steps with the intention of 
 sitting down, he was assailed from behind by the cow- 
 ardly Indian, who struck him a dangerous blow in the 
 back with a sharp knife, intending to inflict a mor- 
 tal wound. At this point an old Indian interfered ; 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 89 
 
 and, stripping off the boy's shirt, carefully dressed 
 his wound, which bled profusely, and proved to be an 
 ugly one, though not of a serious nature, about an 
 inch wide, and three inches deep. 
 
 Early the next morning the boy was placed in a 
 canoe, in charge of two old squaws, and started once 
 more on his way to Detroit. Here he arrived on the 
 evening of the 3d of March, and immediately after 
 was delivered by the women to the commandant of 
 the post, Colonel Richard England. 
 
 During his stay in this place, where he was 
 obliged to remain until Lake Erie, then closed by 
 ice, should open, young Spencer enjoyed the kind- 
 est and most hospitable treatment. He found Colonel 
 England to be a man of great courtesy and very high 
 worth of character, who manifested an interest in his 
 welfare, and a solicitude for his personal comfort, 
 which never passed out of Spencer's memory, and 
 of which he speaks in his narrative in the most grate- 
 ful and appreciative terms. Among the other officers 
 of the garrison to whom he was greatly indebted, 
 Mr. Spencer mentions Lieutenant Andre, a brother 
 of the distinguished and unfortunate Major Andre of 
 the Revolution. This man, Mr. Spencer says, was 
 one of the handsomest that he ever saw; and his 
 character and bearing were no less worthy of admi- 
 ration than his person, being honorable, courteous, 
 and open. His wife, who, .as she informed the 
 boy, was a near relative of his mother, was equally 
 kind and amiable, and from her the poor outcast re- 
 ceived a thousand friendly offices, all of which he 
 G 
 
9O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ever afterward held in the fondest and most grateful 
 remembrance. . 
 
 At the end of about four weeks Spencer was in- 
 formed that the navigation of the lake was again 
 open, and that he might safely resume his home- 
 ward journey. He took his leave from his kind 
 friends with pain and regret, emotions which were 
 fully reciprocated, since he had endeared himself by his 
 gentle and manly ways, and won not only the re- 
 spect, but, indeed, the affection, of all with whom he 
 had come in contact. 
 
 The voyage, made on the sloop Felicity, was ex- 
 tremely rough and even hazardous. The vessel, 
 while in the middle of the lake, was overtaken by a 
 tempest, and was at one time in imminent danger of 
 wreck, being obliged to put back to port, and wait 
 until the storm had passed. After a number of de- 
 tentions, the ship arrived safely, on Wednesday, the 
 1 3th of April, at Fort Erie. Here the captain intro- 
 duced his young charge, with a letter from Colonel 
 England, to the officer in command, by whom he was 
 sent, several hours after, to Fort Chippewa, and thence 
 to Queenstown and Fort Niagara. 
 
 Shortly after his arrival at the last-named place, 
 Spencer was taken to Newark, at that time the seat of 
 the provincial government. Here he was courteously 
 received by Governor Simcoe, who gave him in charge 
 of Thomas Morris, Esq., a citizen of Canandaigua, 
 New York, who had arrived at the town the day 
 before, on his way home, and had kindly offered to 
 take the boy with him. Horses were provided for 
 
SPENCERS CAPTIVITY. 9! 
 
 the first stage of the journey by Governor Simcoe. 
 On reaching Niagara, Mr. Morris purchased two good 
 animals and a stock of provisions ; and, taking the 
 road through the wilderness, .set out with his com- 
 panion for Canandaigua, about one hundred miles 
 distant, where he arrived after two days' hard riding. 
 At this place the boy remained until about the middle 
 of June. During his stay, he was sent to school, and 
 all his expenses were paid by Mr. Morris, who proved 
 himself to be one of the most disinterested and gen- 
 erous of benefactors, refusing afterward to receive 
 the least remuneration for the heavy charge to which 
 he had been put. 
 
 To trace each step taken by the lad on the rest of 
 his journey home would be both tiresome and profit- 
 less to the reader. It will be sufficient to say that, 
 after some delays, he arrived safely at New York, 
 and was taken thence to his relatives in Elizabeth- 
 town, New Jersey, where he arrived on the third day 
 of July, 1793, just one year after his departure from 
 his home in Columbia. 
 
 The remainder of the story can be best told in the 
 language of Spencer himself. We have chosen this 
 means of bringing it to a termination, not only because 
 it has been our aim to preserve, as far as possible, Mr. 
 Spencer's own simple and beautiful forms of expres- 
 sion, but also because the extract which we now take 
 from his book serves to illustrate the great and shin- 
 ing virtues of his character, and for its pathos and 
 fervid piety, teaches a lesson of the highest interest 
 and value to our young readers. 
 
Q2 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 "At Elizabethtown," says he, " I remained with my 
 sister and brother-in-law, Mr. Halstead, for a little 
 more than two years, a regular portion of all of 
 which time was occupied by me at school ; and on 
 the i4th of September, 1795, being then fourteen 
 years old, I set out on horseback, in company with 
 a Mr. Crane and the late General Schenck, then on 
 his first visit to the West, on my return home. We 
 performed the journey to Pittsburgh in ten days; 
 and there, putting our horses on a flat-boat, de- 
 scended the Ohio, and arrived at Columbia about 
 the middle of October. The joy of my parents on 
 seeing me is more easily imagined than described ; 
 with tears and embraces they welcomed my return. 
 The day was spent in affectionate inquiries about 
 the past; and devoutly and gratefully that evening, 
 around our family altar, did we join in thanksgiving 
 and praise, with my pious father, to the Father of 
 mercies, for all his past unmerited goodness, par- 
 ticularly for my preservation and safe restoration to 
 my home. 
 
 " Nearly forty years have since passed away.* Our 
 rivers teem with commerce ; their banks are covered 
 with farms, with houses, villages, towns, and cities ; 
 the wilderness has been converted into fruitful fields ; 
 temples to God are erected where once stood the 
 Indian wigwam, and the praises of the Most High 
 resound where formerly the screams of the panther 
 or the yell of the savage only were heard. ' O ! 
 
 *The reader should bear in mind that Spencer wrote his narrative about 1830, more 
 than fifiy years ago. 
 
SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 93 
 
 what hath God wrought? ' But where are the friends 
 and companions of our youth? Our parents, where 
 are they? Mine have long since 'slept with their 
 fathers.' Wawpawwawquaw, who only a short time 
 since, had for several years paid me an annual visit, 
 has gone to the land of his fathers; and almost all 
 of those of whom in my narrative I have spoken are 
 no longer dwellers upon the earth. We, also, will 
 soon end our earthly pilgrimage, and enter that 
 ' bourne whence no traveler returns/ May we, through 
 divine grace, finish well our journey, that we may 
 dwell where ' ever-during spring abides, and never- 
 withering flowers ' ; in that healthful clime where 
 ' sickness, sorrow, pain, and death are felt and feared 
 no more,' where there is ' fullness of joy,' and where 
 there are 'pleasures for evermore." 
 
SPY-LIFE.-ROBERT McCLELLAN. 
 
 life of a scout is, under any circumstances, 
 1 one of peculiar responsibility, and calls into ex- 
 ercise not only the greatest daring, heroism, and 
 physical endurance, but also the highest strategetic 
 skill and tact. In civilized warfare, the spy is re- 
 garded as one of the most valuable agents of mili- 
 tary success, and only men of undoubted bravery 
 and known discretion are detailed to perform scout- 
 duty. A general may possess the most surpassing 
 military genius, and the army which he commands 
 may be unequaled in point of numbers, discipline, 
 and equipment; but unless heroic and sagacious 
 men are sent out to keep a constant watch on the 
 enemy, and to report concerning his strength, move- 
 ments, and the disposition of his forces, the leader 
 will often make mistakes in judgment, and the army 
 will be likely to gain very little in prestige. 
 
 But, though the duties of the spy in civilized war- 
 fare are of a most difficult and responsible character, 
 they can bear no comparison, either for difficulty or 
 responsibility, to his duties in a war carried on by a 
 civilized nation with a semi-civilized or barbarous one. 
 In a war of this kind, success is dependent almost 
 entirely upon the character of the scouting service, 
 since the chief object to be sought is to guard against 
 
 (94) 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 95 
 
 surprise, and since, if this object can be accomplished, 
 victory is a necessary consequence; for a body of 
 civilized troops can nearly always successfully resist 
 an equal or larger body of barbarians in a fair con- 
 test. In savage warfare, therefore, the safety or 
 danger of a whole army depends greatly upon the 
 service of the scout, who, if vigilant and active, can 
 often avert an impending disaster; but who, if un- 
 suited to the duties devolving upon him, is as fre- 
 quently the indirect agent of irreparable calamity. 
 
 Some of the most interesting pages of American 
 history are those which are devoted to the adventures 
 of the brave scouts whose daring and prowess have 
 been potent instruments in extending our frontiers. 
 The deeds of these valiant men have been often told, 
 but they can not be too frequently repeated. It is 
 our purpose to give, in the present narrative, a brief 
 account, of one of the earliest of these adventurers, 
 whose history, though now little read, has every feat- 
 ure of romantic interest, and whose performances 
 should not be permitted to pass out of the remem- 
 brance of his countrymen. 
 
 Robert McClellan was the son of a pioneer farmer, 
 who lived, at the time of the Revolution, in western 
 Pennsylvania. Growing up to manhood in that wild 
 and unsettled region, young McClellan was from his 
 first years inured to all the hardships and dangers 
 of back-woods life. Arriving at a suitable age, he 
 chose the occupation of a pack-horseman, which he 
 followed until a few years after the close of the war; 
 when, led by a restless disposition, and an adventur- 
 
96 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ous spirit, he emigrated to southern Ohio, at that 
 time a part of the far West. 
 
 Immediately upon his arrival, he applied to one 
 of the military authorities commanding an important 
 post on the Hocking River for employment in the 
 capacity of a spy or ranger. His application was 
 granted; and, early in the year 1790, he entered on 
 the career of his choice, a career which was des- 
 tined to give him great credit and distinction. 
 
 The life which he selected was one to which he 
 was in every respect most admirably adapted. Pos- 
 sessing a magnificent physique, powerful in build, 
 straight as an arrow in form, rapid and agile in 
 movement, and giant in strength, few men could 
 stand against him in any bodily exercise or warlike 
 contest. The most incredible stories are told of the 
 feats of skill and strength which were accomplished 
 by him almost without an effort; and yet, however 
 fictitious these stories may seem, there can be no 
 doubt that they are entirely truthful, since his re- 
 markable athletic exploits were witnessed and at- 
 tested by men whose veracity can not be questioned. 
 One of his favorite feats was to leap over a tall 
 horse ; and, on one occasion, while passing along a 
 narrow sidewalk in Lexington, Kentucky, with the 
 late well-known Matthew Heuston, finding his path 
 obstructed by a yoke of oxen, he, instead of walking 
 around them, as his companion did, leaped over both 
 at a bound. While with the army in Greenville, he. 
 was challenged to a trial of feats of strength by a 
 number of soldiers and teamsters ; but, not deigning 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 97 
 
 a reply, either by' way of acceptance or refusal, he 
 walked off a few paces, took a short run, and jumped 
 over a wagon with a covered top, about eight and one- 
 half feet high. He was very fleet of foot, and in a 
 long race never met his equal. All of these physical 
 qualities now became eminently useful to him, and 
 enabled him to perform actions which gave him an 
 almost unrivaled renown among the pioneers of the 
 West. 
 
 Soon after his employment as an army spy, McClel- 
 lan was sent, with a companion named White, on an 
 important scouting expedition to the upper part of 
 the Hocking Valley. Here, it had been learned, the 
 Indians were gathering in great numbers with the in- 
 tention of organizing to proceed against the frontier 
 posts. The mission of the two spies was to ascer- 
 tain, if possible, the strength of the Indians, and the 
 intentions of their leaders. 
 
 Providing themselves with a store of jerked veni- 
 son and corn bread, and arming themselves with 
 knives, tomahawks, and pistols, they took their rifles 
 in their hands, and set out on their hazardous en- 
 terprise. It was the last part of October, and the 
 weather was very fine. Their course lay directly 
 through the wilderness; and, with high spirits and 
 undaunted resolution, they went forward, determined 
 to succeed in this their first important undertaking, 
 and gain the applause which brave men covet as the 
 reward of heroism. 
 
 A few days' march brought them within sight of 
 the Indian encampment. This lay in a broad and 
 
98 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 beautiful valley, near the place where the town of 
 Lancaster now stands. After making a reconnois- 
 sance of the enemy, the spies proceeded to examine 
 the ground, and select a place of concealment. 
 
 At one end of the valley rose a remarkable promi- 
 nence, terminating in a perpendicular cliff of rocks, 
 several hundred feet in height. This cliff overlooked 
 the plain below, and afforded not only a full view of 
 the Indians, but also a position of great safety and 
 strength, from which a few men could successfully 
 resist a much larger body. Here McClellan and his 
 companion concealed themselves, and set about to 
 accomplish ;ne objects of their mission. 
 
 The IP i.ans in the valley were very numerous, and 
 the rn^p extensive preparations were evidently being 
 mad 2 ior proceeding on some warlike expedition. 
 Ev^ry day witnessed some new accession to the 
 strength of the savages ; and, as each war-party 
 arrived, terrible shouts were sent up, echoing and 
 re-echoing in the distance, and enforcing upon the 
 two listeners the conviction that their enterprise was 
 indeed one of immense hazards. 
 
 Small detachments were frequently sent out by the 
 main body to hunt for game ; and some of these oc- 
 casionally approached the place where the spies lay 
 concealed. At such times, McClellan and his friend 
 crept into fissures of the rock, and thus escaped dis- 
 covery. On one or two occasions, however, they 
 came very near being surprised, the savages coming 
 within a few feet before they were aware of their 
 presence : but, by alertness and agility, the spies sue- 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 99 
 
 ceeded in saving themselves, and in keeping their 
 enemies in ignorance. 
 
 On account of their near proximity to so large a 
 band of hostile warriors, McClellan and White did 
 not dare either to shoot at game or kindle a fire. 
 Their supply of food was, however, ample ; and, as 
 the nights were not excessively cold, they did not suf- 
 fer much from exposure, since they were both hardy 
 frontiersmen, and had been accustomed through life 
 to privations of all kinds. 
 
 But, though their stock of provisions was large 
 enough to satisfy every want, and though they did 
 not suffer serious discomfort from the weather, they 
 soon began to feel the pangs of extreme thirst. 
 They had for a time drawn a sufficient supply of 
 water from the hollows in the rocks, which were 
 filled with rain-water that had recently fallen ; but 
 this supply soon became exhausted, and a new one 
 had to be sought. 
 
 The emergency was one of great danger; but 
 McClellan, who always insisted on being the fore- 
 most in hazardous undertakings, proved equal to it. 
 Slinging two canteens over his shoulders, he took 
 his rifle in his hand, and cautiously descended the 
 cliff. Skirting the declivity of the hill, he kept under 
 cover of a thicket of hazel bushes which grew be- 
 tween him and the Indian camp, and soon reached 
 a beautiful grove (which he had noticed while recon- 
 noitering the savages) ; and here he found a spring 
 of clear, cold water. Filling his canteens, he returned 
 with equal caution, and- rejoined his companion. 
 
1OO THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 The next day, as a new supply was needed, White 
 volunteered to perform the duty. He, also, was suc- 
 cessful ; and it was now arranged that the canteens 
 should be filled daily, the task devolving on the two 
 men alternately. The third day the water was ob- 
 tained, as before, without discovery ; but, on the 
 fourth day, the good fortune which had previously 
 attended the adventurers was suddenly changed, and 
 they were thrown into circumstances which afforded 
 them as many opportunities as they could have wished 
 for displaying their courage and audacity. 
 
 White had reached the spring without being dis- 
 covered, and had filled his canteens to the brim with 
 the pure and grateful liquid. Fancying himself se- 
 cure, he had seated himself in the shade, and was 
 watching the water as it bubbled from the earth and 
 flowed away in a clear and beautiful stream. Sud- 
 denly his practised ear caught the sound of light 
 footsteps; and, turning round, he saw two Indian 
 women approaching. One of them, on discovering 
 him, gave a loud whoop, and both turned and were 
 about to fly, when White, instantly comprehending 
 the situation, and concluding that his only recourse 
 was to inflict a speedy and noiseless death, sprang 
 forward, and, grasping them by the throat, thrust 
 them quickly into the water. He soon succeeded in 
 drowning one ; but the other, who was young and 
 very active, resisted him powerfully. The struggle 
 was, however, brief; and he was about to submerge 
 her, when, to his great surprise, she addressed him 
 in English, begging for mercy. White relaxed his 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. IOI 
 
 grasp and demanded an explanation, when the woman 
 informed him that she was not an Indian, but a white 
 captive, who had been taken prisoner about ten years 
 previous. The Indians had killed all the members 
 of her family except herself and a brother, whom 
 they had led into captivity. Her brother had suc- 
 ceeded in making his escape soon after his capture ; 
 but she had been carried away, and was now so 
 thoroughly naturalized as to be regarded by her 
 masters as one of their own number. 
 
 While the girl briefly told her story, White assured 
 himself of the death of the old squaw; and then, 
 directing his companion to follow him, took his gun 
 and quickly set out to return to the place where 
 McClellan lay concealed. Half of the distance was 
 passed, and White congratulated himself that he 
 should have ample time to reach the rock, apprise 
 his friend of the danger in which they stood, and 
 with him make good his retreat before the Indians 
 should discover the dead body of the old squaw and 
 raise the alarm. But, while pressing forward through 
 the hazel thicket, he heard, to his great dismay, a 
 shrill cry a short distance down the stream, followed 
 by a number of whoops; and, looking through the 
 bushes, he saw that the Indians in the camp were in 
 the greatest commotion, and that several armed 
 parties were about to set out, evidently for the pur- 
 pose of scouring the forest for their enemy. White 
 now ordered the woman to follow as rapidly as pos- 
 sible, and commenced to run at the top of his speed. 
 They fortunately succeeded in gaining the cliff before 
 
IO2 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 any of the Indians had discovered them; and, while 
 the girl concealed herself, and took a survey of the 
 ground, the men carefully examined their rifles, and 
 laid their plans for defense. 
 
 The position which they occupied had been chosen 
 by them with especial reference to securing them- 
 selves in case of an attack in force. The only means 
 of reaching it in front was by a narrow pass, through 
 which the Indians were obliged to proceed in single 
 file. In the rear it could be commanded from a steep 
 rock, which afforded a shelter to the attacking party, 
 and from which they could fire without exposing them- 
 selves, and this the spies knew to be the chief point 
 of danger. Their only hope of successful resistance 
 was that the Indians, in their eagerness to secure their 
 prey, would not perceive the more important position, 
 but would advance from the front, thus rushing into 
 the trap that had been set for them. 
 
 Soon the dark forms of the warriors were seen 
 gliding through the trees and rocks, until every avail- 
 able avenue of escape was cut off, and the position 
 of the spies was completely surrounded. The per- 
 pendicular rock in the rear was not, however, occu- 
 pied as yet, and hope was not entirely abandoned. 
 The Indians advanced with great caution, being ig- 
 norant of the strength of their opponents, and not 
 knowing their exact position ; but at length, guessing 
 the place of retreat, they formed, and proceeded to 
 dislodge their foes. 
 
 The first Indian had no sooner exposed himself 
 than he fell dead by a bullet from McClellan's rifle. 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 1 03 
 
 The second and third savages each met with a like 
 fate ; and, as the rest of the band advanced, the guns 
 of the white men continued to deal destruction and 
 death. Finding that they could not hope to retaliate 
 successfully, the Indians at last gave up the unequal 
 contest, and withdrew for a time to arrange new plans 
 of offense. 
 
 Their consultation was brief, for immediately after- 
 ward McClellan saw a number of warriors skulking 
 behind rocks and trees toward the steep rock which 
 commanded the position from the rear. Hope sank 
 within the brave spies as they now perceived that the 
 key to their situation had at last been discovered, and 
 that capture or death was inevitable. But, though all 
 the odds seemed to be against them, they determined 
 to resist even more -stubbornly than before, believing 
 the death of the soldier on the field to be far prefera- 
 ble to the slow torture of the captive at the stake. 
 
 Their resolution was made in silence ; nor were they 
 permitted to debate long. Keeping his eyes fixed 
 steadfastly on the point of danger, McClellan saw a 
 tall and powerful Indian preparing to spring from a 
 bush so near to the rock that he could not fail to 
 reach it in two or three bounds, when, clambering to 
 its top, he would be able to have an unobstructed 
 view of the place where his defenseless enemies lay 
 concealed, and fire upon them. The distance inter- 
 vening was eighty to one hundred yards, and only a 
 few inches of the savage's body were exposed; but 
 McClellan determined to risk a shot and fell him, if 
 possible. He therefore carefully adjusted the flint of 
 
IO4 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 his rifle, raised his gun, and took a sure aim. He 
 pulled the trigger, and the hammer fell; but, in spite 
 of his precautions, his gun deceived him. The flint, 
 instead of firing the powder, had been broken in 
 many pieces, and McClellan knew that before he 
 could adjust a second the Indian would have reached 
 a place where no aim of his could avail. He went to 
 work, however, with the greatest deliberation, to pre- 
 pare for one more trial. 
 
 While he was thus engaged, McClellan heard a 
 sharp report; and, looking up, could hardly believe 
 his eyes when he saw the Indian, checked while in 
 the midst of his leap by a bullet sent from some 
 friendly, though unknown, rifle, turn a somersault in 
 the air, and drop to the ground. McClellan's first 
 thought was that the death-shot had been sent by his 
 companion, White, but, turning to look at his friend, 
 he saw him coolly at his post, watching the pass in 
 front; and, on second thought, McClellan knew that 
 the gun which was fired could not have been his, since 
 the report came from some distance. The unfavora- 
 ble issue of the Indian's attempt was followed by a 
 terrible shout from his companions in the valley below, 
 who not only were disappointed at his poor success, 
 but who also deplored his loss, as he evidently was 
 one of their favorite warriors. 
 
 Before McClellan had time to conjecture on the 
 nature of the mysterious agency which had inter- 
 posed in their behalf, another Indian cautiously and 
 swiftly advanced to the covert, and prepared to make 
 the leap. He paused a second, and then jumped; 
 
THE WHITE SQUAW'S SHOT, 
 
ATTACK UPON FORT KING BY THE INDIAN FORCES OF OSCEOIA. 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 
 
 but once more the friendly rifle was heard to sound, 
 and the Indian fell headlong. The enemy now sus- 
 pended the attack to counsel with one another upon 
 the means which were to be employed, but evidently 
 despairing of success that evening, as it was growing 
 late, they determined to retire until the next morning. 
 
 Left to themselves, the two spies now had time to 
 look around, and devise means for the continuance 
 of their defense on the following day ; or, if possible, 
 for effecting their escape in the dark. While talking 
 over the events of the day, they suddenly perceived 
 that their new companion, the young girl, was miss- 
 ing ; and, concluding that she had left them and re- 
 turned to the Indians, to whom, as they supposed, 
 she would betray their position, and give information 
 respecting their weakness, they bitterly reproached 
 themselves for sparing her life. 
 
 It was now earnestly debated whether, under the 
 circumstances, it would be advisable to attempt to 
 pass through the enemy's lines, or to continue to lie 
 in concealment, depending upon the good fortune 
 which had thus far attended them to give them the 
 advantage in the contesjt of the next day. While dis- 
 cussing this important question, the night came on; 
 but the spies did not relax their vigilance, fearing that 
 the Indians might take advantage of the darkness to 
 steal upon them. 
 
 A slight rustling in the bushes, and the tread of 
 soft footsteps, soon confirmed their fears, and they 
 were instantly on the alert. Immediately afterward 
 
 a form was seen gliding toward them through the 
 7 
 
IO8 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 darkness. The rifles were aimed, and McClellan was 
 about to shoot, when a voice, which White recognized 
 as that of the young white woman whom he had mer- 
 cifully spared, addressed them in English, telling them 
 not to be afraid. The suspicion which they had en- 
 tertained of her treachery was now strengthened to 
 certainty; for they were convinced that the Indians, 
 availing themselves of her knowledge of their posi- 
 tion, had commanded her to lead the way to the place 
 where they were concealed, and that she, presuming 
 upon her fancied familiarity with them, had consented 
 to engage them in conversation, thus hoping to throw 
 them off their guard. White, therefore, sternly com- 
 manded her to desist, telling her that they were aware 
 of her motive, and were prepared for the attack. This 
 language evidently gave the girl great concern, and 
 with a tremulous voice she assured them that their 
 suspicions were unfounded, and earnestly requested 
 them to permit her to rejoin them. Her words and 
 motives seemed so sincere that her request was at last 
 granted, and she came forward, carrying a gun in her 
 hand. 
 
 McClellan and White now listened to a very re- 
 markable recital. The young woman whom they 
 had reproached with treachery proved to be their 
 deliverer. It was she who had fired the two shots 
 which had saved them at their most perilous moment. 
 Upon arriving with White at the spies' -retreat, she 
 had made a careful examination of the ground ; and, 
 perceiving that the steep rock was the point from 
 which the greatest danger was to be feared, had 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. IOQ 
 
 determined, at any risk, to protect her friends from 
 attack from this quarter. But, as she had no rifle, 
 and no means of securing one, she was for some time 
 in doubt how to proceed. During the heat of the 
 contest, she saw an Indian fall at some distance from 
 his companions. Here, thought she, was her oppor- 
 tunity. Stealing from her friends, who were too, 
 busily engaged to notice her movements, she crept 
 to the place where the warrior lay, secured his gun 
 and ammunition, and, cautiously making her way 
 through the underbrush, gained the fatal rock, con- 
 cealed herself in a position where she could see 
 every hostile movement of the Indians, and waited 
 until the critical moment before risking a fire. After 
 killing the first Indian, she quickly re-charged her 
 gun, and took a sure aim at the next one, with the 
 result already told. The death of this second savage 
 was to her a source ot double satisfaction ; for it not 
 only insured the present safety of her companions, 
 but also afforded her high personal gratification. 
 This Indian was the most warlike and bloodthirsty 
 of the Shawnee tribe, and it was he who had led the 
 band which had made the midnight attack on the dwell- 
 ing of her parents, killed her mother and sister, and 
 taken her and her brother captives. Thus, after ten 
 years' time, during which she had vainly watched and 
 prayed for an opportunity of retaliating, she was 
 made the instrument of avenging justice, so true 
 is it that there is no human power that can evade the 
 search and vigil "of him who treasures up a wrong." 
 Whtn the *girl had related the part which she had 
 
IIO THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 taken in the day's adventures, her companions hailed 
 her as their preserver, and expressed their sorrow for 
 casting suspicions so unjust on her conduct. After 
 a brief consultation, it was decided that the only hope 
 which they now had was of stealing away under cover 
 of the darkness, passing the enemy's outposts, and 
 gaining the forest. Slight as this hope was, they de- 
 termined to base all their calculations upon it ; and 
 it was accordingly arranged that the girl, who was 
 thoroughly familiar with the nature of the country, 
 and therefore with the probable positions held by the 
 Indian guards, should take the lead, while the men 
 should follow, subject to her direction and orders. 
 
 The darkness of the night and the inclemency of 
 the weather both favored their enterprise. During 
 the afternoon the sky had been overcast, and now 
 the rain came down in torrents, while the thunder 
 rolled heavily, thus preventing those who were on 
 watch from catching the sound of their retreating 
 steps. 
 
 The party had not gone more than one hundred 
 yards when, immediately in front of them, they saw 
 the dark form of an Indian sentinel. The girl gave 
 a low whist, and the men sank silently to the ground. 
 Their guide now went forward alone ; and, a moment 
 afterward, McClellan and White heard her conversing 
 in 'low tones with the Indian warrior. The conversa- 
 tion ceased ; and the spies were about to rise, thinking 
 that the girl, having succeeded in throwing the man 
 off his guard, would instantly return, and give the 
 order to proceed. They looked for her, however, 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. Ill 
 
 in vain. Many minutes passed, and still the girl did 
 not appear. The most ominous apprehensions now 
 began to take possession of their minds, and the 
 doubts which they had formerly entertained of her 
 good faith returned with added force. These, how- 
 ever, were once more removed; for, at the end of 
 about a quarter of an hour, their companion appeared, 
 and gave the signal for them to rise and go forward. 
 Her long absence had been occasioned by delays due 
 to the difficulty which she had had in removing the 
 Indian sentinels, two of whom stood directly in their 
 route. 
 
 Resuming their flight, they proceeded for about 
 half a mile, in profound silence, without meeting 
 any of their foes. Suddenly the furious barking of 
 a dog close at hand gave them new cause of con- 
 cern. The men raised and cocked their rifles, sup- 
 posing that the trial had at length come, and that 
 discovery was inevitable ; but their director whispered 
 to them that, as long as they preserved absolute 
 silence, and followed in her footsteps, they were 
 safe, since they were now in the midst of the Indian 
 village, where no watch had been set, and where, 
 unless some unforeseen accident should occur, their 
 presence would not for a moment be suspected. 
 The barking of the dog continued, and soon after- 
 ward a squaw came out of one of the wigwams ; but, 
 finding that it was the white girl who had occasioned 
 the disturbance, she returned without making any 
 particular inquiries. In a short time the village was 
 cleared, and the girl informed her friends that the 
 
112 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 greatest danger had been passed, and that they might 
 proceed with more expedition. The forest was quickly 
 gained; and the three adventurers, knowing that 
 every thing depended upon haste, set out on a run, 
 never stopping until noon of the next day, by which 
 time they were confident that they had placed a suffi- 
 cient distance between themselves and their pursuers. 
 They reached their destination in safety ; and, as the 
 event proved, their daring enterprise and successful 
 escape so greatly discouraged and worried their ene- 
 mies that the contemplated expedition was abandoned. 
 The woman to whom the spies owed their delivery, 
 and whom they now restored to her friends, was the 
 sister of the brave Colonel Washburn, so distinguished 
 in the early history of the West as the spy of Simon 
 Kenton's famous " Bloody Kentuckians." 
 
 The heroism and address which McClellan dis- 
 played in this undertaking gave him an immediate 
 reputation throughout the West, and obtained for 
 him constant employment in a scouting capacity. 
 In 1791, he removed to Fort Washington, and, in 
 the spring of the following year, he went to Fort 
 Hamilton, where he engaged for a time in the com- 
 missary department of the army; but, wearying of 
 this peaceful occupation, he soon gave it up, and 
 entered the scouting service in the army of General 
 Wayne, at that time quartered at Fort Greenville, in 
 preparation for a final campaign against the Indians. 
 
 The company of spies to which McClellan now 
 attached himself was commanded by the brave and 
 famous Captain William Wells, whose familiarity with 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 113 
 
 the character of the Indian tribes, and their modes 
 of warfare, made him a most valuable ally. He had 
 been taken prisoner by the savages when very young, 
 and had been raised by them to manhood, thus gain- 
 ing a thorough knowledge of the various warlike arts 
 practised by them, and an acquaintance with several 
 of their languages. The band of spies, of which he 
 was the leader, numbered four besides himself; and 
 of these Robert McClellan was recognized by him, 
 as well as by his companions, to be the most efficient 
 and reliable. Next to McClellan, in the estimation 
 of Captain Wells, stood Henry Miller, who, with a 
 younger brother named Christopher, had been led 
 into captivity in early youth. Henry made his es- 
 cape when about twenty-four years old, and re- 
 turned to his friends; but Christopher had become 
 56 attached to the free and lawless life which he led 
 with the Indians, that he could not be induced to 
 give it up, but continued to reside with them after 
 his brother's departure. 
 
 A full history of the adventures of this daring band 
 would require many pages ; and even a partial account 
 of them would occupy a space entirely out of propor- 
 tion to that which can fairly be given for the purpose 
 in the present work. It will be sufficient to relate, 
 for the entertainment of our readers, a few of the 
 more interesting incidents connected with their scout- 
 ing expeditions. 
 
 In the month of June, 1 794, the company of Captain 
 Wells received instructions to march into the forest, 
 and bring into camp, in the course of a few days, an 
 
114 TIIE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Indian prisoner, in order that General Wayne might, 
 by means of close questioning, gain some information 
 concerning the intentions of the enemy. Taking with 
 him Robert McClellan and Henry Miller, Wells pro- 
 ceeded to execute the commands which he had re- 
 ceived; and, marching through the Indian country, 
 soon reached the Auglaize River, and advanced into 
 the territory of the Shawnees. 
 
 The spies proceeded jbr some distance without per- 
 ceiving any signs of the enemy ; but at last discovered, 
 a short way ahead, a small cloud of smoke, rising, no 
 doubt, from an Indian camp-fire. They dismounted, 
 and, advancing cautiously, soon saw three Indians 
 seated around a fire on an open spot of ground. Re- 
 connoitering the position of the enemy, they found 
 that it would be very difficult to approach within a 
 sufficient distance to bring them in range; for a con- 
 siderable space intervened in which there were no 
 trees that would afford shelter. There was, however, 
 one large fallen oak; and it was determined to creep 
 along the trunk, conceal themselves in the branches, 
 and then fire. 
 
 The tree-top was gained, and the spies were now 
 within seventy or eighty yards of the camp. The 
 plan of attack was quickly laid. It was determined 
 to kill two of the Indians, and take the other prisoner. 
 The shooting was to be done by Wells and Miller ; 
 while McClellan, who was the swiftest of foot and 
 most agile, was to give chase to the third, bring him 
 to bay, and hold him until his companions should ar- 
 rive. 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 115 
 
 The Indians were seated around the fire, smoking 
 and laughing. One was on the right, another was on 
 the left, and the third was in the center. The third 
 man was pointed out by McClellan as the one who 
 was to be spared; and, without further ado, Wells 
 and Miller raised their rifles to their shoulders, and, 
 at the signal given by McClellan, fired. Without 
 waiting to see the result, for he knew that his 
 friends never needed to shoot twice, McClellan 
 bounded off, tomahawk in hand, in pursuit of the 
 fugitive. The Indian gave a loud cry, and ran down 
 the river ; but, seeing that his enemy would soon 
 head him, turned and made directly for the stream. 
 This he reached at a point where a bluff, about 
 twenty feet high, made a precipitous descent; and, 
 without waiting to consider the consequences of the 
 leap, plunged into the stream below, sinking, as he 
 did so, up to his waist in the thick mud. Immedi- 
 ately after, McClellan arrived, and he also jumped 
 without hesitation into the river. 
 
 Before he had time to recover an upright position, 
 the Indian made a savage thrust at him with his 
 knife, but this was parried; and, raising his toma- 
 hawk, McClellan ordered his enemy to surrender, 
 swearing that, in case of a refusal, he would instantly 
 bury the weapon in his head. Incapable of further 
 resistance, the Indian threw down his knife, and gave 
 himself up; and McClellan then quietly awaited the 
 arrival of his two companions. 
 
 Wells and Miller soon reached the bank; and, 
 dragging the captive from the mud, washed his body, 
 
Il6 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 and bound him securely. To their great surprise, 
 he proved to be a white man; and, upon a more nar- 
 row examination, Miller was struck with amazement 
 and mortification to see that he was his brother, 
 Christopher, whom he had left about two years be- 
 fore with the Indians. He was very morose and 
 refused to speak, but, upon being called by his 
 name, he instantly turned round; and, recognizing 
 after a few moments the man who addressed him to 
 be his brother Henry, became more communicative, 
 and proceeded with his captors more cheerfully. 
 Upon arriving at Fort Greenville, at that time the 
 station of the army, he was placed in the guard- 
 house. General Wayne, Captain Wells, and Henry 
 Miller frequently interviewed him, soliciting him to 
 leave his present disreputable life and join his country- 
 men ; and, though he was at first indisposed to com- 
 ply, he finally consented, joined Wells's company of 
 rangers, and fought bravely and faithfully until the 
 close of the Indian war. 
 
 It will be remembered that Captain Wells, the 
 leader of the band of spies of which McClellan was 
 a member, had been taken prisoner by the Indians 
 while a youth, and raised by them to manhood. 
 Although a man of the most desperate character in 
 enterprise or battle, possessing very few of the softer 
 feelings, he still had many noble impulses, and on 
 several occasions showed a forbearance and gener- 
 osity which proved him to be as humane as he was 
 courageous. 
 
 While on one of his scouting expeditions on the 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAM. 117 
 
 banks of the river St. Mary, he discovered a family 
 of Indians coming up the stream in a small canoe. 
 Intending to kill the m; n of the party, and take the 
 women and children prisoners, he ordered his com- 
 panions to conceal themselves in the underbrush, 
 and wait for the signal which he agreed to give. 
 He then went to the bank and hailed the Indians, 
 requesting them to row to the shore. This they 
 did without hesitation ; for Wells was dressed in 
 Indian costume, and the party in the boat had no 
 suspicion of the presence of an enemy in that part 
 of the country. The canoe reached the shore; and 
 the spies, who were lying in wait for them, raised 
 their guns in momentary expectation of the precon- 
 certed signal. But, instead of ordering his comrades 
 to fire, Wells suddenly turned round and called to 
 them to desist, swearing that the man who should 
 attempt to injure any one of the party should in- 
 stantly receive a ball through his head. This unex- 
 pected address gave his companions great displeas- 
 ure ; and, coming forward, with their rifles still 
 leveled, they demanded the meaning of his singular 
 order. Wells then informed them that, the moment 
 the boat struck the shore, he had discovered that its 
 occupants were his Indian father and mother and 
 their children. That father and mother, he said, 
 had "fed him when he was hungry, clothed him 
 when he was naked, and kindly nursed him when 
 sick; and in every respect were as kind and affec- 
 tionate to him as they were to their own children." 
 He added that though he could perform the bloodi- 
 
Jl8 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 est deeds without the slightest compunction of con- 
 science, and shoot or tomahawk the most defense- 
 less savage without mercy, he had not the heart to 
 injure these poor creatures; but, on the contrary, 
 would at all times, and under all circumstances, pro- 
 tect them with his life. His motives and conduct 
 were commended by his companions, who threw down 
 their guns ; and, going to the canoe, shook hands with 
 the trembling Indians, assuring them that they had 
 nothing to fear, and telling them that they might con- 
 tinue on their journey unmolested. 
 
 In all of their scouting excursions, "Wells and his 
 men were provided with the best horses which the 
 army could afford, and were allowed by their superior 
 officers the greatest possible liberty of action, being 
 permitted to come and go at pleasure ; and, on their 
 return to camp, being rewarded with the highest hon- 
 ors and extended the greatest privileges which soldiers 
 can enjoy. When on their hostile expeditions, they 
 were always dressed and painted after the Indian 
 fashion; and, as each of them was thoroughly fami- 
 liar with the Indian tongues and customs, they fre- 
 quently passed, even among the shrewdest Indian 
 warriors, as natives. They therefore had numerous 
 opportunities of imposing upon their enemies, and 
 thus gaining information of the most valuable char- 
 acter. 
 
 On one occasion, toward the close of General 
 Wayne's memorable campaign against the Indians, 
 they were dispatched with orders to bring in an In- 
 dian prisoner. The army had arrived at the place 
 
SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 119 
 
 now known as Fort Defiance ; and the surrounding 
 country was known to be filled with bands of war- 
 riors, hastening to join the main body of Indians, 
 which had gathered to oppose General Wayne's 
 march. The expedition of the scouts was, there- 
 fore, a peculiarly venturesome one, since, in hunting 
 for stragglers, they were in great danger of meeting 
 with parties which would prove too strong for them. 
 
 Taking their way down the Maumee River, they 
 came to an Indian village, into which they rode boldly, 
 pretending that they had just come from a British 
 fort some distance above and were on their way to 
 take a part in the fight which was now near at hand. 
 They were painted and dressed in full style ; and, 
 occasionally stopping to talk with the inhabitants, 
 who came out to look at them, they passed along 
 with the greatest apparent indifference, boasting and 
 swaggering in true Indian fashion. No suspicion was 
 aroused, and they soon left the town and continued 
 on their way. 
 
 Immediately after their departure from the village, 
 they met an Indian man and woman returning on 
 horseback from the hunt. Closing around them, they 
 obliged them to surrender; and, securing their prison- 
 ers, they set out on their return, highly elated with 
 the success of their adventure. 
 
 Riding rapidly in the direction of Fort Defiance, 
 but keeping at the same time a sharp lookout for 
 bands of hostile Indians, they came, shortly after 
 dark, to a large encampment. The prisoners were 
 now given to understand that they must preserve 
 
I2O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the most implicit silence, or receive the punishment 
 of instant death. After making a' partial circuit of 
 ihe camp, the adventurers rode off in the homeward 
 direction about half a mile, when they dismounted ; 
 and, taking their prisoners, gagged and bound them. 
 A consultation on the course which they should 
 pursue followed, when McClellan, who was loath to 
 return without some enterprise of a more stirring 
 nature, proposed that they should ride boldly into 
 the midst of the Indians, provoke an altercation, 
 shoot an Indian apiece, and then fly for their lives. 
 This proposition was no sooner made than it was 
 agreed to. The spies put spurs to their horses ; 
 and, dashing into the camp, halted, laid their rifles 
 across the pummels of their saddles, and engaged in 
 friendly conversation with the Indian warriors, who 
 were sitting peaceably around their fires smoking 
 their pipes. McClellan and Wells asked them many 
 questions regarding the supposed strength of General 
 Wayne, his probable intentions, and the preparations 
 'which had been made to resist him; to all of which 
 the Indians replied very fully, volunteering much use- 
 ful information. As the warriors became more com- 
 municative, the spies grew more inquisitive and bois- 
 terous; and finally the suspicions of the enemy were 
 awakened, and some of the braves arose and went 
 for their rifles. At this point an old Indian, who 
 had been watching them closely, was heard to re- 
 mark, in an undertone, that he fancied that these 
 men were bent on mischief. Instantly Captain Wells 
 gave the signal for attack; each man leveled his gun, 
 
THE BANGERS rlTHE INTO THE INDIAN CAMP. 
 
A BLOODY BATTLE WITH INDIANS. 
 
SPY LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 123 
 
 and four Indians fell dead. Lying down on the backs 
 of their horses, the spies rode swiftly away, and were 
 soon out of the light of the camp-fires. Their indis- 
 cretion had, however, been so great, that some of 
 the Indians were apprised of their purpose, and were 
 on guard ; so that, before they had time to get out 
 of range, they were overtaken by a volley of bullets. 
 McClellan received a serious wound from a ball which 
 entered his body under the shoulder-blade and came 
 out at the shoulder; while Captain Wells was shot 
 through the arm, and his wound was so sharp and 
 painful that he was obliged to drop his rifle. The 
 horse of one of the party (Mr. May) slipped on a 
 smooth rock and fell with its rider, who, before he 
 could rise, was overtaken by the Indians, carried to 
 the camp, and the next day tied to a tree and shot 
 dead. 
 
 The three remaining spies made good their es- 
 cape; and, reaching the place where they had left 
 their prisoners, quickly unbound them, and pursued 
 their retreat. The distance to Fort Defiance was 
 over thirty miles ; and, as McClellan and Wells both 
 suffered a great deal from their wounds, it was de- 
 termined to dispatch the man who had escaped sound 
 to head-quarters for a surgeon and guard. The mes- 
 senger departed, arrived at the fort, and made known 
 his want to General Wayne, who immediately granted 
 the request, and sent a skillful surgeon with a body 
 of dragoons to relieve his two favorite scouts. The 
 wounds of McClellan and Wells were soon bandaged, 
 the retreat was made in safety, and the prisoners were 
 
124 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 turned over to General Wayne, who questioned them 
 narrowly, and obtained from them much valuable 
 knowledge respecting the strength, position, and de- 
 signs of the enemy. 
 
 This incident occurred a short time before the de- 
 cisive battle which put an end to the Indian struggle. 
 With the crushing defeat of the savages by General 
 Wayne, our account of the adventures of Wells and 
 McClellan and their brave companions terminates; 
 for, so complete was the victory gained by the whites, 
 that Indian warfare in this part of the country be- 
 came a thing of the past, and consequently the ad- 
 venturous scouts, who had contributed so much to 
 bring about the fortunate result, were obliged to 
 seek new fields of enterprise. The company was 
 disbanded, and the paths of the men who had com- 
 posed it diverged. Captain Wells continued his 
 adventurous life for a time, and then settled with 
 his wife and family on a spot of ground, granted 
 him by the government, in southern Indiana; but, 
 falling back into his former ways, he became for 
 awhile an Indian agent; and finally, at the outbreak 
 of the second war with Great Britain, was killed 
 while bravely resisting, with a very inferior force, 
 an Indian attack. The subsequent life of McClel- 
 lan is so interesting, that the following short ac- 
 count of it has been written for these pages. 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 
 
 ON the 1 2th of September, 1806, Captain Clarke, 
 while descending the Missouri, on his return from 
 the famous Lewis and Clarke expedition to the Pacific 
 coast, met a large boat containing twelve men, who, 
 as he learned, on questioning them, were going up 
 the river to trade with the Maha Indians. Standing 
 in the middle of the craft he recognized the stalwart 
 and intrepid ranger, Robert McClellan, with whom he 
 had many years before, while a lieutenant in the army 
 of General Wayne, formed a familiar acquaintance. 
 Saluting his old friend, Clarke inquired of him regard- 
 ing the news from the States; and, after the inter- 
 change of a few words, both parties put to shore, and 
 the two men spent the evening in relating the ex- 
 periences which they had passed through since they 
 had fought with Wayne in his memorable campaign. 
 McClellan informed his friend that, after the dis- 
 bandment of the scouting corps with which he had 
 been connected, he had returned to civil life, and en- 
 gaged for some years in mercantile occupations. 
 Looking sharply to the main chance, he had, early in 
 1 80 1, opened a trading station on the Ohio River, 
 about twenty miles from its mouth, and, succeeding 
 beyond expectation in his business, had determined 
 
 to go farther West and continue it on a larger scale. 
 
 8 (s) 
 
126 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 To this end he had purchased a boat, stocked it with 
 merchandise, and was now on his way up the Mis- 
 souri, to once more begin a life which he hoped 
 would this time prove a peaceable one with the 
 Indians. 
 
 In reply to McClellan's inquiries concerning the 
 Western tribes, Clarke said that he would find some 
 of them well disposed, but that, on the whole, they 
 were a set of very rascally, deceitful, and turbulent 
 fellows ; and he assured him that he would not have 
 to penetrate far into the Western country before he 
 should find plenty of room for adventure. Taking 
 leave of his friend the next morning, Clarke continued 
 on his homeward voyage, while McClellan, with his 
 eleven companions, pushed forward on an enterprise 
 which, as the event proved, was to yield a series of 
 the most stirring adventures, and from which he was 
 destined never to return to his home. 
 
 The trade with the Indians in this part of the coun- 
 try was carried on chiefly by a number of wealthy 
 Frenchmen of St. Louis, who naturally looked with 
 jealousy on the enterprise of their young competitor, 
 and did not scruple to throw every obstacle in his 
 way, secretly encouraging the Indians to acts of hos- 
 tility. But McClellan, knowing that his right was 
 legally good, determined to maintain perfect inde- 
 pendence, and return all opposition with interest, gov- 
 erning his course by the maxim, eminently character- 
 istic, to "strictly observe the letter of the law and 
 fear no d d rascals." 
 
 In 1 807, while on a trading expedition to the upper 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 127 
 
 tribes, in company with Mr. Ramsay Crooks, with 
 whom he had formed a business partnership, an op- 
 portunity offered for testing the resolution which he 
 had adopted. While passing through a wild region 
 of country, occupied by the warlike tribes of the 
 Sioux, the voyagers suddenly heard a succession of 
 terrific yells proceeding from the cliffs overhanging 
 the bank of the fiver, and, looking up, they saw a 
 multitude of hostile warriors, armed with tomahawks, 
 bows and arrows, and other weapons, threatening 
 opposition and menacing attack. McClellan's band 
 was about forty strong, and to invite a conflict would 
 therefore have been extremely unwise. A parley 
 followed, and the result was that the traders were 
 obliged to abandon their enterprise and land at a 
 point lower down the stream. Here they were per- 
 mitted to erect a station, and, leaving six or eight 
 warriors to watch them, the main body of the Sioux 
 returned to their village. They had no sooner de- 
 parted than McClellan and Crooks again launched 
 their canoe and set out for their original destination, 
 determined not to be hindered in their object. By 
 hard rowing they soon placed themselves beyond the 
 reach of their savage enemies, and, arriving at the 
 place which McClellan had chosen, built a traders' 
 hut and opened traffic. This momentary hinderance to 
 the success of their enterprise was due, as McClellan 
 afterward learned, to the machinations of one Manual 
 Lisa, a Spaniard, one of the " d d rascals" whom 
 he had determined not to fear ; and, so incensed was 
 he at the cowardly methods employed by his unscru- 
 
128 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 pulous rival, that McClellan declared that, if he ever 
 met the villain, he would not hesitate to shoot him on 
 the spot. 
 
 Although the traders had succeeded in outgeneral- 
 ing the Sioux, they were not destined to carry on 
 their traffic unmolested. After conducting their 
 trading busines for some years, with varying success, 
 they were one day surprised by a large party of 
 Sioux warriors, who, surrounding the cabin, disarmed 
 the men, broke into the store-room, and appropriated 
 to themselves the goods with which it was stocked. 
 At the time of the attack McClellan was absent, 
 hunting for deer. Returning about dusk, he found a 
 number of the rascally fellows busily engaged in fin- 
 ishing the work of plunder, and, walking in among 
 them, he commanded them to desist and restore what 
 they had wrongfully taken. The Indians, knowing it 
 was very dangerous to provoke his fiery temper, dis- 
 ereetly complied, and returned every thing in their 
 possession ; but, unfortunately, the value of what they 
 turned over amounted to only a small part of that car- 
 ried away, and McClellan found, on calculation, that 
 he had sustained a loss of fully two thousand five 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 Sharing what he had left with his men, McClellan 
 abandoned his business, once more launched his boat, 
 and set out on his return to St. Louis, determining 
 to give over his project of Indian trading, and en- 
 gage in occupations in which he should have fewer 
 "d d rascals" to deal with. This determination 
 was, however, soon surrendered. At the mouth of 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. I 2Q 
 
 the Nodowa River McClellan found a party of ad- 
 venturers, under the command of Wilson P. Hunt, 
 who had come to the West in the interest of the 
 Astor American Fur Company; and, finding in this 
 party his old friend Ramsay Crooks (with whom he 
 had dissolved partnership some time previous), he 
 was easily induced to join it, and, by the purchase 
 of a few shares, obtain an interest in the profits of 
 the enterprise. 
 
 The expedition under the command of Mr. Hunt 
 was one of two sent out by John Jacob Astor to trade 
 with the Indians and explore and develop the great 
 North-west. The destination of both expeditions was 
 the mouth of the Columbia River. The first had 
 been sent by sea, and was in charge of Captain Jona- 
 than Thorn. The second, whose remarkable history 
 while on the western plains we are now about to 
 trace, left New York in July, 1810, proceeded west by 
 way of Montreal, and, after some difficulties in the 
 way of obtaining men to join it, reached St. Louis ; 
 and, leaving that point on the 2ist of October, 
 started on its long and adventurous overland jour- 
 ney. It reached the mouth of the Nodowa in Novem- 
 ber, where it encamped for the winter, and where, as 
 we have stated, it was joined by McClellan. In the 
 following spring Mr. Hunt left for St. Louis to obtain 
 recruits and an interpreter; and, on his return, the 
 camp was broken up, and the party, consisting of 
 about sixty persons, of whom forty were Canadian 
 "voyageurs," a number hunters, and the rest men 
 of various occupations, embarked in four boats (one 
 
130 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 of which was very large, and mounted a swivel and 
 two howitzers) for the Upper Missouri. 
 
 As this period marks an important epoch in the life 
 of Robert McClellan, it will be well, before resuming 
 the narrative, to indicate in his own words his motives 
 and feelings upon embarking in this memorable en- 
 terprise. Writing to his brother William, under date 
 of December 20, 1810, he says: 
 
 " Six days ago I arrived at this place from my 
 establishment, which is two hundred miles above, on 
 the Missouri. My mare is with you at Hamilton, 
 having two colts. I wish you to give one to brother 
 John, the other to your son James, and the mare to 
 your wife. If I possessed any thing more except my 
 gun, at present, I would throw it into the river, or 
 give it away, as I intend to begin the world anew to- 
 morrow." 
 
 The party struck camp on the 2ist of April, and, 
 continuing their voyage, were favored for a few days 
 with fine weather. Soon, however, the elements grew 
 less auspicious ; the wind and current became ad- 
 verse, and delays were frequent. As they ap- 
 proached the country of the Sioux they proceeded 
 with caution, although pushing forward with all possi- 
 ble rapidity; for they had been advised that the 
 Spanish trader, Manual Lisa, who had so unscrupu- 
 lously thrown obstacles in the path of McClellan and 
 Crooks, was following, with a number of boats and a 
 large force, close in their rear, with the intention of 
 overtaking and passing them, hoping to gain the coun- 
 try beyond and monopolize the trading business 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 
 
 there. They were aware that Lisa was in league 
 with the Sioux, and that, if possible, he would induce 
 these tribes to oppose their progress ; and they there- 
 fore kept a sharp lookout, expecting attack. 
 
 Shortly after they reached the country of the Sioux 
 they were overtaken by a messenger bearing a letter 
 from Lisa, in which it was proposed that they should 
 halt until his arrival, in order that the two expeditions 
 might proceed through the hostile region together. 
 An evasive answer was sent in reply, and Hunt 
 and his companions pressed forward with all dis- 
 patch. 
 
 The encounter with the Indians, which they looked 
 for with so much dread, came at last, and the worst 
 fears of the voyagers were realized. On the morn- 
 ing of the 3 1 st of May, while preparing their breakfast, 
 the alarm was suddenly sounded. Two Indians had 
 been seen on a bluff directly ahead of them, and from 
 
 * 
 
 their suspicious looks and mysterious movements it 
 was supposed that they meant no good. Halting at 
 this point the men breakfasted, although keeping a 
 vigilant watch and being ready to assume the de- 
 fensive at a moment's warning. After a short ab- 
 sence the two Indians reappeared on the bank; and, 
 gesticulating in a very excited manner, commenced to 
 harangue the voyagers. Mr. Hunt permitted them 
 to talk for awhile, apparently regarding them with in- 
 difference, but finally taking with him his Indian inter- 
 preter, he rowed to the shore in order to ascertain 
 their meaning. Instantly one of the Indians ran 
 swiftly away, but soon after reappeared on horseback, 
 
132 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 riding at full speed, in a north-easterly direction, over 
 the bluffs. The other Indian engaged in conversa- 
 tion with Mr. Hunt, but from his frantic gestures, 
 violent demeanor and abusive language, the men in 
 the boats became convinced that very serious trouble 
 was brewing. 
 
 Hunt returned ; and, giving orders for each man to 
 prepare instantly for combat, as an encounter with a 
 vastly superior force of the Sioux was inevitable, com- 
 manded that the boats should proceed. For some 
 distance the view of the bluffs was obstructed by a 
 large island ; but, immediately upon rounding the 
 upper point of this island, the voyagers saw, to their 
 terror and dismay, the whole north-east bank of the 
 stream literally black with hostile savages, whose 
 numbers were being constantly increased by multi- 
 tudes pouring down from the high bluffs. Upon 
 catching a glimpse of the boats, the warriors set up 
 a prolonged yell ; and, crowding along the bank, 
 stood with their weapons in readiness, awaiting the 
 approach of their victims. 
 
 Hunt now held a brief consultation with his offi- 
 cers upon the plan to be adopted. Some were for 
 returning, others proposed a halt, and a few thought 
 the only recourse to be battle. The folly of at- 
 tempting to escape was, however, soon evident to 
 all ; for the current of the stream was so swift as to 
 oblige the voyagers to keep close to the bank, which, 
 being in places extremely steep, gave the Indians the 
 advantage, enabling them to approach, fire a volley 
 at the fugitives, and then retire without receiving in- 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 133 
 
 jury. Preparations were, therefore, made for the 
 battle which all supposed to be imminent. 
 
 Under the direction of McClellan, Hunt, and 
 Crooks, all the arms were put in complete order, 
 and the boats were rowed slowly up the stream 
 until they came nearly within range of the enemy. 
 When in plain view of the Indians, the men in the 
 large boat, containing the swivel and howitzers, 
 arose, and very ceremoniously proceeded to load 
 these formidable pieces. They first charged them 
 with powder alone ; and, applying the torch, fired 
 them simultaneously. The tremendous report which 
 followed evidently caused the Indians great conster- 
 nation ; but when, instantly reloading the guns, and 
 firing them a second time, the soldiers in the boat 
 demonstrated their ability to pour volley after volley 
 in swift succession into the midst of their enemies, 
 the Indians were thrown into total confusion. The 
 guns were charged once more, this time with powder 
 and ball, and Hunt ordered the boats to advance. 
 
 The Indians now abandoned all offensive prepara- 
 tions ; and, putting away their weapons, spread their 
 buffalo robes before them, indicating that they had 
 no hostile intentions, and desired a parley. A num- 
 ber of the chiefs came forward, descended to the 
 edge of the river, and, sitting down on the sand, 
 formed a part of a circle, and made preparations for 
 kindling a fire, in order to light the pipe and smoke 
 the calumet. The whites were invited by signs to 
 land ; and Hunt, taking with him McClellan and five 
 others, rowed to the shore, first commanding his men 
 
134 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 to still maintain an offensive attitude, and be ready 
 to fire in case of treachery. The party was received 
 in a friendly manner; and, after smoking the pipe, 
 Mr. Hunt rose and addressed the chiefs through an 
 interpreter, stating that he and his companions had 
 come from the great salt lake in the east, and were 
 on their way to see some of their brothers in the 
 west, for whom they had been crying many moons ; 
 that for want of their brothers their lives had become 
 miserable; that they would rather die than not see 
 their brothers, and that they would kill every man 
 who should attempt to frustrate their design. He 
 said that he had heard that his Indian brothers were 
 bent on doing him and his friends harm, but that he 
 did not wish to believe it. He concluded by ear- 
 nestly expressing the great love which he felt for 
 his red brethren; and assured them that, when he 
 had planned his journey, he had not been unmindful 
 of their wants, but had provided himself with some 
 presents for them, which he trusted they would re- 
 ceive in token of his friendly feeling and intentions. 
 A supply of tobacco and corn was then brought from 
 the boats, and piled up on the shore near the "great 
 chief." 
 
 The offering was received, and the Indian chief, 
 rising, said that he was in war with several tribes 
 who lived a little further on, and that he had been 
 afraid that his white brothers, if allowed to pro- 
 ceed, might take guns and ammunition to them ; but, 
 knowing now that his white brothers had no such in- 
 tentions, he was sorry for what he and his braves had 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 135 
 
 done. He said that he, too, had absent brothers 
 whom he loved, and for whom he had been crying 
 many moons ; and that, out of consideration for the 
 feelings of his white friends, he would permit them 
 to continue on their way to the great western salt 
 lake. He added, however, that his young men were 
 not so considerate, and not mindful of the affection 
 which he bore his white brothers, but were inclined 
 to be wild, and might become troublesome, and so 
 concluded by advising Mr. Hunt to encamp on the 
 other side of the river. 
 
 Observing the spirit rather than the letter of this 
 recommendation, Hunt, re-embarking, gave the word 
 to proceed, and the boats were rowed as swiftly as 
 possible up the stream. During this day and the 
 next one, the party saw no sign of danger; but, on 
 the succeeding day, they once more were called 
 upon to exercise every precaution, and prepare for 
 sanguine and stubborn battle. 
 
 Shortly after daybreak, two Indians were seen on 
 the bluffs ; but these, instead of making violent dem- 
 onstrations, commenced to throw their buffalo robes, 
 and make signs of peace. The voyagers at once 
 landed; and the Indians, running to meet them, 
 went up to McClellan and Crooks, threw their arms 
 around them, and embraced and caressed them in 
 the most fulsome manner. These actions were not 
 very much to the liking of the rough soldiers, par- 
 ticularly when they recognized in the savages the 
 chiefs who had led the war-party which had at- 
 tempted to obstruct their progress several years 
 
136 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 before; and who, fearing retaliation, had now come 
 to beg for clemency. 
 
 The pipe of peace was smoked with the chiefs, 
 and a few presents were given them. The Indians 
 took their departure, and the boats were pushed for- 
 ward. In a short time the tramp of horses was 
 heard, and two Indians, riding up to the bank, hailed 
 the party, and demanded, in a very loud tone and 
 peremptory manner, that some gifts, such as had 
 been received by their companions, should be pre- 
 sented to them. This demand Mr. Hunt refused 
 to comply with; and he ordered the Indians to be 
 off, declaring that he would treat every one who 
 came to him in so insolent a way as his enemy. 
 
 This refusal and threat threw the Indians into 
 an ungovernable rage; and, after a few passionate 
 exclamations and maledictions, they rode furiously 
 off, vowing vengeance. 
 
 Fearing that the savages would execute their 
 threat, and bring a large force of warriors to at- 
 tack them, it was determined to make every prep- 
 aration for a conflict, and then advance cautiously 
 in battle array. The men were armed, and the 
 boats proceeded up the stream. Mr. Hunt, with 
 McClellan and a few trusty companions, took the 
 lead in the large boat, and rowed along one side 
 of the river, while the remainder of the party fol- 
 lowed in the canoes on the other. Their object 
 in thus separating their forces was to be able to 
 command a full view of the bluffs and distant hills, 
 which could not be seen from one side alone. It 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 137 
 
 was agreed that, as soon as Indians were discov- 
 ered, a - signal-gun should be fired, and the boats 
 should instantly rejoin each other. 
 
 While pulling around the lower end of a sand- 
 bar, which he had followed up for .some, distance 
 until his boat had run aground and he was obliged 
 to retrace his course and steer into deeper water, 
 Hunt heard the alarm sounded from one of the 
 canoes ; and, looking toward the shore, saw a band 
 of armed Indians running toward him, evidently with 
 the purpose of cutting off his escape, and, after 
 massacring him and the rest of the men in the 
 boat, securing their craft, and then directing its 
 guns against the remainder of the party. 
 
 The men in the other three boats, seeing the dan- 
 ger of their comrades, strained every effort to inter- 
 cept the Indians in their design. But, on account 
 of the delay caused Mr. Hunt by the sand-bar, 
 they had got some distance in advance, and they 
 knew that before they could reach the opposite bank 
 the Indians would have gained the point, and rescue 
 would be no longer possible. 
 
 Meantime, the warriors had gathered in great 
 force, and were waiting at a point on the shore 
 for Hunt to come opposite them. The emergency 
 seemed to be a fearful one; but, just as Hunt was 
 about to give the signal to fire, McClellan checked 
 him, and told him with a smile that there was noth- 
 ing to fear. While his comrades had been busily 
 preparing for the combat, McClellan, coolly sur- 
 veying the Indians, had discovered that, though they 
 
138 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 were thronging to the shore in great numbers, and 
 were all completely armed, they showed no desire 
 to fight, and evidently did not think of an encounter, 
 but stood looking at the whites with an expression 
 more of. friendly expectation than of hostile design. 
 The boat was accordingly rowed toward them ; and, 
 as soon as it came opposite the point, some of the 
 Indians, throwing down their arms, jumped into the 
 river and swam to it, seeking to shake hands with 
 its occupants ; while the rest ran along the bank, 
 and, making for the other boats, crowded around 
 them, offering the same friendly token. 
 
 These Indians, it now appeared, belonged to the 
 Arickara nation, one of those with which the Sioux 
 were at war. Far from opposing the whites, they 
 welcomed them with joy, knowing that they could 
 secure from them, by trading, a quantity of firearms 
 and ammunition. The voyagers encamped that 
 night as the guests of the savages. Provisions 
 were furnished, partly from the boats and partly 
 from the stores of the war-party, the evening was 
 devoted to feasting, the greatest hilarity prevailed; 
 and, following the festivities, the whites were enter- 
 tained until after midnight by the songs and dances 
 of the warriors. 
 
 The hope of -carrying on a successful and lu- 
 crative business among the tribes was, however, 
 speedily dissipated. On the following morning an 
 Indian came running into the camp, and communi- 
 cated the very unwelcome information that a boat 
 was coming up the river. This Mr. Hunt and his 
 
INDIAN SCALP DANCE. 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 141 
 
 party knew to be one of the crafts of their rival, 
 Manual Lisa, whose company they had previously 
 declined, and whom they were very anxious, particu- 
 larly at the present time, to avoid. 
 
 The boat, on its arrival, proved to contain Mr. 
 Lisa and a detachment of 'his party. He immedi- 
 ately sought an interview with Hunt, who received 
 him with coldness and distrust. During the inter- 
 view, McClellan, who had not forgotten the outrage 
 put upon him several years before by Lisa, stood 
 regarding his enemy with very black looks, and 
 several times felt impelled to carry, his former 
 threat into execution ; but, reflecting that it would 
 not be wise to provoke, on account -of a merely 
 personal grievance, an outbreak in which both bands 
 must inevitably become involved, he forebore to 
 abide by his hostile intention, though still resolving 
 to do his utmost to injure the credit and prevent the 
 success of this unscrupulous knave. 
 
 After a short conference between the leaders, a 
 compromise was effected. It was agreed that the 
 two parties should proceed together, and that each 
 should have equal privileges with the other. They 
 accordingly remained with the Arickara warriors 
 until the arrival of the rest of Lisa's boats, when, 
 taking again to their barks, they pushed on to the 
 villages of the Arickara tribe. 
 
 The ill-feeling which existed between the leaders 
 was fully shared by the men of both parties, and 
 several disputes arose. Lisa was very dogmatic 
 and domineering, and, on one occasion, made him- 
 
142 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 self particularly offensive. He attempted to seduce 
 the interpreter of Hunt's party, Pierre Dorion, 
 threatening him with -prosecution on account of an 
 old whisky debt, and offering 'him inducements to 
 join his expedition. This attempt naturally aroused 
 the anger of Mr. Hunt and his companions. McClel- 
 lan, in particular, was highly enraged ; and, taking 
 up his gun, he addressed a few emphatic words to 
 Lisa, swearing that, unless he conducted himself 
 more decently, he would blow out his brains, and 
 offering to fight him in single combat whenever he 
 felt so disposed. The difficulty was bridged over, 
 the voyage was continued, and, soon after, the 
 Arickara town was reached, where both parties 
 landed and engaged in traffic with the inhabit- 
 ants. 
 
 In accordance with a plan which had been formed, 
 the Hunt party here abandoned their boats, and 
 made preparations to perform the remainder of the 
 journey overland. Their first care was to secure 
 horses for the carriage of provisions, baggage, etc., 
 and for the convenience of the men, who, if obliged 
 to march on foot, must necessarily have had a slow 
 and painful progress. But, though all the animals 
 had been purchased which could be obtained, Mr. 
 Hunt found that the number was insufficient, and 
 he therefore was compelled to accept a proposition 
 made by Lisa, who offered, in exchange for the 
 large boat of the party and a stipulated quantity 
 of supplies, to furnish a certain number of horses. 
 In discharge of his agreement, Lisa set out with 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 143 
 
 Mr. Crooks and a part of Hunt's company to one 
 of his posts, about one hundred and fifly miles up 
 the river; and, after an absence of a fortnight, re- 
 turned with the number of animals specified. 
 
 The expedition had now proceeded one thousand 
 four hundred and thirty miles from the mouth of the 
 Missouri. Their journey thus far, though not unat- 
 tended with trial and danger, had been accomplished 
 in safety and with comparative comfort. No men 
 had been lost, and the enterprise, on the whole, had 
 been quite successful. The most venturesome part 
 of the undertaking was now to be accomplished. 
 An unknown, wild and hostile region of country, 
 one thousand miles in extent, was to be traversed. 
 Fatigues and dangers, such as always attend an 
 expedition through an unexplored territory, wer-e 
 to be endured ; and though the men who composed 
 the party were all brave and fearless, they looked 
 forward to their enterprise as one which was pecu- 
 liarly uninviting, and in which their prospects of 
 success were at least doubtful. 
 
 Provided with eighty-two horses, nearly all of 
 which were heavily loaded with Indian goods, bea- 
 ver traps, ammunition, Indian corn, corn-meal, and 
 other provisions and necessaries, the party, number- 
 ing altogether sixty-two men, set out, on the i8th 
 of July, 1811, on their long journey. Very few of 
 the men were mounted ; for, in spite of all his efforts, 
 Hunt had been barely able to procure enough horses 
 to serve for the transportation of the effects of his 
 
 companions and stores. 
 9 
 
144 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Pursuing a north-east course, which they afterward 
 changed to almost a north-west, the adventurers 
 traveled for a few days very slowly, owing to the 
 sickness of a number of the men, and the exceed- 
 ingly rocky nature of the ground. At the end of 
 five days, they came to an encampment of Chey- 
 enne Indians, and were received by them in a 
 friendly manner, being invited to rest and recruit. 
 This invitation was accepted. The travelers halted 
 for about two weeks ; and then, with forty additional 
 horses, which they had obtained by purchase from 
 the Indians, they went forward on their journey, 
 with spirits raised by the hospitable reception which 
 they had met, and the favorable prospects which 
 they now fancied were opening before them. 
 . Penetrating a broad prairie region, they crossed a 
 number of small streams, and following the course of 
 one of these, reached, in about a week's time, the foot 
 of the formidable Big Horn Mountains. Here they 
 fell in with a band of the Crow Indians, a quarrel- 
 some, malicious -and rascally lot of fellows. Although 
 the Indians did not exceed the whites in number, and 
 had no chance of standing against them, they were 
 very aggressive and insulting, and it was all that the 
 travelers could do, consistently with proper independ- 
 ence and self-respect, to avoid a sanguinary termina- 
 tion of their intercourse with them. As several of 
 their horses had become lame, and as the men were 
 in no plight to perform the journey on foot, McClel- 
 lan proposed that they should effect an exchange 
 with the Indians, if possible, for better-conditioned 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 145 
 
 beasts. This was agreed to, and McClellan was 
 deputed to negotiate. 
 
 The Indians at first refused to entertain any prop- 
 osition, thinking that, as the animals were too lame to 
 go much further, the travelers would soon turn them 
 loose, when they could capture and appropriate them 
 without being obliged to give an equivalent. McClel- 
 lan offered the savages some ammunition and pro- 
 visions in addition, but they still refused to listen 
 to terms. Finally, guessing their motives in declin- 
 ing so advantageous a proposal, McClellan ordered 
 that the whole number of animals which he wished 
 them to take should be led out, and then, calling a 
 party of men, he commanded them to load their guns, 
 and, when he gave the word, to shoot the beasts on 
 the spot. This stroke of policy had the desired 
 effect; the Indians requested him to desist, and then 
 came to an agreement, giving him good horses in 
 return for the poor ones, and for the supplies which 
 had been offered in addition. 
 
 Leaving these unfriendly and ill-disposed Indians, 
 the travelers proceeded. Their course now lay 
 through a rugged, mountainous country, extremely dif- 
 ficult to pass through, and, in places, very dangerous. 
 Many days were consumed in climbing the crags and 
 passing down the precipitous descents of this dan- 
 gerous range. Finally the plains of the Mad River 
 were reached. This region was scarcely less inviting, 
 for they found the country through which the stream 
 flows very rough, and to proceed by water was out 
 of the question, for the current was swift, and the 
 
146 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 river, at places, was scarcely eighty yards in width, 
 forming a roaring torrent. 
 
 Tracing the course of the Mad River, the travelers 
 reached, in a few days, a broad stretch of compara- 
 tively level country filled with great herds of buffalo. 
 Encamping, they divided themselves into hunting 
 parties, and spent about a week in shooting these 
 animals and drying their meat, hoping to provide 
 themselves with' a quantity sufficient for the re- 
 mainder of the journey. 
 
 After breaking up their encampment they jour- 
 neyed slowly and with difficulty. It was now nearly 
 three months since they had left the Arickaras ; the 
 fall season was far advanced, and the weather grew 
 cold and very inclement. A number of horses had 
 been lost on the way ; the remainder were, for want 
 of forage, half-starved ; the men, obliged now, for the 
 most part, to journey afoot, were weak and discour- 
 aged, and the prospect was gloomy in the extreme. 
 The greater part of the distance had been accom- 
 plished, but the travelers knew that, before reaching 
 their destination, the navigable waters of the Columbia 
 River, they had a region of country to traverse which 
 presented far greater obstacles to progress, and 
 which was far more dangerous than any they had yet 
 passed through. 
 
 Foot-sore, exhausted and despairing, they arrived, 
 on the 8th of October, at a post on the Mad River, 
 which had been established a year previous by a 
 Mr. Henry, but which had been abandoned by him 
 early in the spring. Taking possession of the de- 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN SCENEKY. 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 149 
 
 serted log-huts which formed the post, they remained 
 at this place for about ten days, and then, leaving 
 their horses in charge of two Indians, they embarked 
 in fifteen canoes which they had made, and started 
 down Snake River, a stream formed by the junction 
 of Mad River and Henry's Fork, hoping to accom- 
 plish the greater part of the remaining distance by 
 
 navigation. 
 
 For a distance of about a hundred miles their voy- 
 age was made with fair expedition. But soon, to 
 their dismay, they found that the river, instead of 
 being navigable throughout its course, formed numer- 
 ous rapids, and that the voyage could not be pros- 
 ecuted without imminent danger. But, rendered des- 
 perate by the circumstances in which they were 
 placed, they resolved to continue, thinking that they 
 would before long pass the rapids and come to a 
 point where the navigation would be safer and more 
 convenient. 
 
 Pursuing their resolution, they found that fortune 
 was still against them. Discouragements and disas- 
 ters followed close upon one another. As they pro- 
 ceeded the rapids became more frequent, and where 
 these were absent, the current was so swift as to 
 render it extremely perilous to follow the stream. In 
 shooting one of the rapids, a canoe struck a rock 
 and was wrecked, one of the men being drowned. 
 Another canoe, which they sought to pass down by 
 means of a line, was swept away by the current, and 
 three more stuck so fast among the rocks that they 
 could not be extricated. Finally a whirling vortex, 
 
I5O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 forming a fearful abyss, brought the voyagers to a 
 stand, and, exploring the stream beyond this for 
 about forty miles, in the hope that it still might be 
 found navigable, they discovered that, instead of a 
 river, it was a raging torrent, and rushed in a chan- 
 nel, only twenty or thirty yards wide, through preci- 
 pices rising hundreds of feet, and that in places it 
 descended in rapids and falls ten and twenty feet 
 high. 
 
 To continue the voyage was impossible, and, since 
 they were now three hundred and fifty miles from Post 
 Henry, to return for their horses was out of the ques- 
 tion. The only alternative was, therefore, to strike 
 through the wilderness on foot, steering a course for 
 the Columbia River. 
 
 The provisions of the travelers were by this time 
 well-nigh exhausted, only five days' allowance re- 
 maining of the large supply of buffalo meat which 
 had been dried for the journey. Starvation was im- 
 minent, and, as it was reasonable to suppose that the 
 men would have greater chances of subsisting on the 
 product of the wilderness if they proceeded in small 
 detachments than if they advanced in a body, it was 
 determined that the wisest step which could be taken 
 was a division of the forces. 
 
 Mr. Hunt, accordingly, selected a number of his 
 bravest, and most trustworthy men, and, dividing them 
 into parties of from three to five each, placed them in 
 charge of three of his associates in the expedition 
 Robert McClellan, Ramsay Crooks, and Donald 
 McKenzie. The instructions which he gave were 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 151 
 
 explicit. If they found that they could do no better, 
 they were to march direct for the Columbia, and 
 make the best of their way to Astoria. If, however, 
 they chanced to fall in with friendly Indians within a 
 reasonable distance, they were to secure horses and 
 provisions, and return to the starting point, where 
 Hunt agreed to wait with the main body until their 
 arrival, or else until, from protracted absence, all 
 reasonable hope of their return should be abandoned. 
 
 The party of which Crooks was the leader, con- 
 sisting of five men besides himself, set out up the 
 river, intending to retrace the course which had been 
 pursued, and return to Post Henry, where they were 
 to secure the horses which had been left with the In- 
 dians, obtain, if possible, a quantity of supplies, and 
 return to Caldron Linn, the camp (so-named from the 
 raging whirlpool in the river at this point), with all 
 dispatch. The party, headed by McKenzie, consisted 
 of five men, and, starting due north, made direct for 
 the Columbia River. 
 
 Robert McClellan and his party, composed of 
 three brave and tried men, taking with them a small 
 quantity of provisions, followed the course of the 
 Snake River, having in view the same ultimate ob- 
 ject as the band led by McKenzie. They journeyed 
 for several days over rugged and barren mountains, 
 finding no trace of life of any kind, and consequently 
 failing in their purpose of obtaining relief for their 
 companions. Indeed, so fruitless was their search 
 that, after their scanty stock of supplies had become 
 exhausted, they found barely enough on which to 
 
152 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 subsist; and, weary and dejected, they began to real- 
 ize that starvation and death in the wilderness was 
 their final destiny. 
 
 Clambering over the high and craggy peaks of the 
 mountains, they met, some days after their departure, 
 the band of McKenzie. This was, for the moment at 
 least, a fortunate encounter, for McKenzie and his 
 company had been more successful, having killed 
 some game; and they were able, therefore, to afford 
 temporary relief to their half-famished comrades. 
 
 By the unanimous voice of the men, McClellan 
 was chosen leader of the party, and, under his com- 
 mand, a northerly course was followed up Snake 
 River. The heroism, endurance and fortitude pos- 
 sessed by McClellan in so eminent a degree, now 
 served a very useful purpose, for, in the perilous 
 journey which was about to be undertaken, only the 
 highest qualities of leadership could be of successful 
 avail. 
 
 As the party advanced, the difficulties of the enter- 
 'prise increased. The peaks and precipices grew 
 steeper and more barren, and the defiles narrower and 
 more dangerous. Although it was not yet the mid- 
 dle of November, the adventurers were subjected, 
 from the high altitude of the country, to the ex- 
 tremes of cold, and snow-storms were frequent and 
 very violent. Fuel was scarce, and they were often 
 obliged to sleep at night in the snow, or take shelter 
 in the crevices of the rocks, without a fire. 
 
 Every one has read of the strange optical illusion 
 occasionally experienced by sojourners on the Afri- 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 153 
 
 can desert. A party of wayworn travelers, famished 
 with hunger and perishing with thirst, wearily jour- 
 neying over the burning sand, suddenly descry, in the 
 distance, a beautiful green spot, shaded by palms and 
 watered by flowing streams. They rush forward, 
 overjoyed with the thought of at length finding relief 
 from their sufferings. As they advance, they find 
 that they had at first miscalculated the distance, for 
 the inviting spot still appears far ahead. They pro- 
 ceed, hoping to reach it, but their hope at length 
 turns to despair, for they perceive that what at first 
 seemed to be an oasis is only an illusion of the 
 sight, finally disappearing in air as it came. 
 
 Disappointment which is caused by the sudden 
 extinction of sanguine, though ill-founded, hope is 
 indeed great; but the shock is soon over, and resig- 
 nation or renewed desire succeeds. Far different, 
 however, is the result when, after a long-continued 
 prospect of certain fruition and an unceasing effort to 
 gain that which is constantly within sight, though never 
 within reach, the conviction becomes inevitable that suc- 
 cess is out of the question, and that the future offers 
 nothing but an unending series of disappointments. 
 
 Although McClellan and his party never departed 
 far from the river, and could at any time see its roar- 
 ing waters, they suffered from nothing more than 
 thirst. So acute were the pangs which they endured 
 
T54 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ran many hundreds of feet below them, and could not 
 be approached, while the country was almost wholly 
 devoid of brooks and springs. 
 
 The torments which they suffered from hunger were 
 equally unendurable ; and, as they came well-nigh 
 perishing from thirst in a region where water flowed 
 in abundance, so also they were left to hunger for 
 food where game was not unfrequently seen in great 
 plenty. On several occasions they observed large 
 herds of buffalo on the opposite side of the river, and 
 the distant tramp of these animals, mingling with the 
 thunder of the torrent, combined to awaken in their 
 minds a sensation of the profoundest despair. 
 
 Being able to procure no game of any kind, and 
 reduced at length to the verge of starvation, they cut 
 several beaver-skins which they had with them into 
 small pieces. These were broiled before the fire, 
 and dealt out by McClellan in scanty allowances. 
 Finally, even this wretched means of support failed, 
 and, growing feebler and feebler, the men, after 
 struggling vainly for several days through a raging 
 snow-storm, during which time they tasted no food, 
 lay down under a rock to await the death which all 
 knew to be speedily approaching. 
 
 Three of the men were faint and emaciated, ap- 
 parently past all hope of recovery, and nearly all the 
 rest were so weak as to be scarcely able to move a 
 limb. McClellan, whose sturdy frame and iron con- 
 stitution had thus far borne him up, was the only one 
 of the party who- was at all suited to continue the 
 march, and even he was in a most pitiable plight. 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 155 
 
 Surrendering themselves to the fate which they 
 regarded as inevitable, the men lay in the drifting 
 snow with their useless weapons scattered around 
 them. McClellan himself, who had thus far kept 
 up his spirits, and encouraged his comrades to per- 
 severe in the hope of soon finding relief, now gave 
 up in despair; and, offering his gun to one of his 
 companions, requested him to aim it at his heart, 
 and mercifully terminate his miserable existence. 
 
 While the unfortunate travelers lay in this dis- 
 tressing condition, lamenting that they had ever 
 been born into a world in which trial and suffering 
 seemed to be their only portion, McClellan, acci- 
 dently looking up, saw, through the driving snow, 
 an immense buffalo sheltering itself under a rock 
 on the side of a hill. He instantly seized his rifle, 
 and, carefully examining its priming, noiselessly crept 
 up the hill. Making a circuitous route, he arrived, 
 in a few moments, without being seen, within shoot- 
 ing distance. He leveled his gun, while his compan- 
 ions watched him from below in breathless sus- 
 pense, knowing that the issue of the adventure was 
 to them a matter of life and death. 
 
 In a moment the report of the rifle was heard, 
 and the buffalo fell dead. The success of McClel- 
 lan's shot was greeted with a shout by his com- 
 rades, who arose, and, throwing their hats in the 
 air, and embracing each other, laughed and wept 
 by turns. McClellan lost no time in rolling the 
 carcass of the animal down the hill, for his com- 
 panions were so feeble that they could not clamber 
 
156 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 over the rocks. The body was instantly cut to 
 pieces, and the men were about to satisfy their 
 appetites by devouring the flesh raw, when McClel- 
 lan sternly ordered them to forebear; and, kindling 
 a fire, melted a quantity of snow in an iron pot. 
 He then deliberately cut the flesh from the bones ; 
 and, throwing the latter into the water, made a 
 thick soup, which he gave to his companions in 
 small quantities, telling them that starving men 
 must exercise a control over their appetites, and 
 informing them, besides, that, since they had been 
 reduced to such straits, they must now take care 
 to provide for the future, contenting themselves 
 with scant repasts. 
 
 This fortunate supply of food soon restored the 
 spirits and strength of the men; and, after resting 
 for a few days, they once more took up their march. 
 By exercising the greatest self-denial, frequently 
 going for whole days without eating a morsel, they 
 succeeded in making their stock of provisions hold 
 out during the rest of their passage through the 
 mountains, which consumed twenty-one days. At 
 the end of this time, they reached a small tributary 
 of the Lewis Fork of the Columbia; and, following- 
 
 o 
 
 it to its mouth, obtained two canoes from a friendly 
 tribe of Indians, and embarked. They reached As- 
 toria early in January, 1812, about six weeks before 
 the arrival of Mr. Hunt, with the main body, and 
 nearly four months before Mr. Crooks. 
 
 We have said that, besides the expedition which 
 had been sent overland under the command of Mr, 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 157 
 
 4 
 
 Hunt, another one had been fitted up under the 
 auspices of the Company, and dispatched by sea. 
 This had been given in charge to Captain Thorn, 
 of the vessel Tonquin. The voyage to the Pacific 
 coast was made in safety ; but, before proceeding to 
 Astoria, Captain Thorn determined to cruise along 
 the shore, and trade with the natives. While coast- 
 ing north of the Columbia River, he was induced by 
 a tribe of treacherous Indians to enter the mouth 
 of a small stream ; and here, as the water was very 
 shallow, the vessel ran aground. The Indians then 
 surrounded it in 'boats; and, attacking it in great 
 force, soon succeeded in boarding it, and overpower- 
 ing the crew; and so complete was their success, 
 that not one man escaped to tell the story of the 
 massacre. 
 
 On his arrival at Astoria, about the middle of 
 February, 1812, Mr. Hunt, learning of the disaster 
 which had befallen Captain Thorn and his men, re- 
 solved to send an expedition across the country 
 with dispatches to John Jacob Astor, at New York, 
 informing him of the state of affairs. 
 
 Accordingly, on the 22d of March, 1812, a party, 
 Jmder the command of Mr. John Reed, the clerk of 
 the company, set out from Astoria on this important 
 mission. Although McClellan was not requested to 
 join it, since he was one of the partners in the 
 enterprise, and since his services were needed 
 more at the settlement, he resolved to accompany it. 
 This resolution was due to a misunderstanding which 
 had arisen between himself and Hunt. Discontented 
 
158 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 with the comparative insignificance of his interest 
 in the profits of the expedition, he had applied for 
 a larger number of shares ; but had been refused, on 
 the very good ground that he had already purchased 
 his quota, and could not reasonably expect an increase. 
 McClellan, rash and self-willed, upon this refusal, in- 
 considerately severed his connection with the com- 
 pany, and united with Reed's party. 
 
 That a man in his sober senses, just after having 
 escaped, with so much difficulty, a death in the wil- 
 derness, could, from so trivial a cause, voluntarily re- 
 turn to an adventurous life, seems almost incredible. 
 But McClellan never looked at consequences; and, 
 in matters which concerned his personal welfare, was 
 always controlled by a headstrong will, and acted from 
 first impulses. 
 
 The party, composed of three separate companies, 
 one of which was to make the journey to the East, 
 and the other two to perform certain missions of a 
 comparatively easy character, and then to return, num- 
 bered seventeen men. They embarked in canoes, 
 and rowed up the Columbia River until they reached 
 its falls, where they disembarked, and proceeded to 
 carry their boats and goods by land until they should 
 reach a point where it would be safe to again take 
 the river. 
 
 While preparing to make this transfer, they were 
 suddenly surrounded by a war-party of about four 
 hundred Indians. Fearing attack, they assumed a 
 defensive stand ; but the Indians, after pausing a 
 moment to deliberate, instead of assailing them, 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 159 
 
 came forward and assured them of their amicable in- 
 tentions. 
 
 The designs of the savages were soon discovered ; 
 for, making very free of their friendly professions, they 
 offered to carry the canoes, with the merchandise and 
 supplies of the party, to the head of the falls. Rightly 
 guessing that the object of the Indians, in making this 
 proposal, was to have an opportunity to plunder, the 
 offer was declined; but, fearing lest they should be 
 put out of humor, Reed allowed them to carry the 
 canoes, with the promise that, if they behaved them- 
 selves, they should be permitted to transfer the goods 
 the next morning. 
 
 About the middle of the night, McClellan, deter- 
 mined to thwart the designs of the thievish Indians, 
 arose, and, awaking the. men, proposed that they 
 should take advantage of the night, and transfer 
 their stores at once. As the moon was shining, they 
 could easily see to make their way; and, as most of 
 the Indians had gone to the other side, and had set 
 no watch, there was little fear of discovery. 
 
 They would probably have succeeded in their de- 
 sign, and been on their way before their absence was 
 discovered by the Indians, had not the day dawned 
 before the transportation was effected. McClellan, 
 who, with Mr. Reed, guarded the rear, was about to 
 set out with the last loads, when an Indian discovered 
 him, and sounded the alarm. In an instant several 
 canoes, containing a hundred or more savages, pushed 
 out from the opposite shore ; and crossing, leaped on 
 the river bank, and rushed forward to secure the goods. 
 
l6o THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 McClellan raised his rifle, and coolly stood guard, when 
 one of the Indians made a thrust at him with his knife, 
 attempting, at the same time, to hood-wink him with a 
 buffalo robe. But, springing back, McClellan avoided 
 both the blow and the motion ; and, leveling his gun, 
 shot him dead. Instantly wheeling, he discharged one 
 of his pistols at an Indian who was about to shoot at 
 him ; and his second enemy also fell to the ground. 
 
 By this time the rest of the party had come up. 
 Their arrival was very opportune ; for, though McClel- 
 lan had thus far stood his ground, he fought against 
 great odds, and would soon have been overpowered. 
 His companion, John Reed, had been knocked sense- 
 less by a war-club in the hands of a powerful Indian, 
 who now stood over him, with his tomahawk raised, 
 ready to bury it in his head. Seeing the danger of 
 their leader, the men rushed forward, and one of them, 
 leveling his rifle, fired just at the critical moment, fell- 
 ing the savage, and saving the life of his intended 
 victim. 
 
 Following up their advantage, the men formed ; and, 
 with a shout, charged the Indians, who, thrown into 
 confusion by the vigor of the attack, fled precipi- 
 tately. 
 
 Mr. Reed was now raised from the ground, and his 
 wounds, which were very severe, were dressed. The 
 voyage was resumed ; but, before they had proceeded 
 far, it was found that, during the skirmish with the 
 Indians, the tin case in which Reed carried the dis- 
 patches to Mr. Astor had been lost. The object of 
 the expedition was, therefore, frustrated; and, after 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. l6l 
 
 proceeding to the post of Oakinagin, some distance 
 further on, to which they had received instructions to 
 carry a quantity of supplies, they turned round and 
 retraced their course, arriving safely, in a few days, at 
 Astoria. 
 
 As it was highly important that Mr. Astor should 
 be informed of the result of the expedition sent out 
 by him, Mr. Hunt, who acted as his representative, 
 determined to send a second party with dispatches. 
 He accordingly chose Mr. Robert Stuart, a man of 
 signal courage and daring, to perform the mission ; 
 and, selecting four brave and tried men to accompany 
 him, dispatched the fiarty, on the 25th of June, 1812, 
 on their long and perilous journey. 
 
 Still adhering to his resolution to return home, 
 Robert McClellan signified his desire to join the ex- 
 pedition. His request was reluctantly granted; and, 
 with his old comrade Ramsay Crooks, who also had 
 become dissatisfied with Hunt's management, he 
 bade adieu to his friends at Astoria, and embarked 
 in the enterprise. 
 
 Ascending the Columbia River, they arrived, in 
 about a month, at the mouth of the Walla- Walla; 
 and here they left their canoes, purchased horses, 
 and set out through the wilderness in the direction 
 of the Snake River, intending to visit the camp at 
 Caldron Linn, and secure a quantity of merchandise 
 and baggage which had been secreted among the 
 rocks by Mr. Hunt the year before. 
 
 Before reaching the rough and barren mountains, 
 
 they had to pass through a parched and sandy region, 
 10 
 
1 62 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 totally devoid of vegetation, and unwatered by streams 
 of any kind. The sun shone with a burning heat ; 
 their march was slow, and, before they had traversed 
 half of the distance, their supply of water became 
 exhausted. Far in the distance rose the peaks of the 
 mountains ; and the travelers knew that their trials, 
 though already great, had in reality but just begun. 
 But, though they suffered intensely, they still pushed 
 forward with alacrity, determined to own no such 
 word as failure. 
 
 After journeying for twenty-two days, they reached 
 in safety, though much exhausted, the banks of the 
 Snake River. By following the route across the des- 
 ert, they found that they had gained one considerable 
 advantage. The distance had been greatly lessened, 
 and some of the most formidable peaks of the mount- 
 ains had been avoided ; and, being familiar with the 
 nature of the country bordering the river, which they 
 struck at a point where it was comparatively easy to 
 follow, they were enabled to proceed with greater 
 directness, and choose their ground at once without 
 stopping to make explorations. 
 
 Caldron Linn was reached on the 2Qth of August. 
 To their disappointment, they found that most of the 
 valuable merchandise, stores, and ammunition, which 
 had been deposited by Mr. Hunt, had been found by 
 the Indians and carried off. They secured the re- 
 mainder, which consisted of a quantity of ammuni- 
 tion, a few dry-goods, and a number of beaver- traps, 
 and then resumed their march. 
 
 It will be recollected that Mr. Hunt and his party 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 163 
 
 had made the journey down the Snake River, as far 
 as the camp at Caldron Linn, in canoes. Remember- 
 ing the hardships which had attended that dangerous 
 passage, the travelers determined to perform the 
 return journey by land; and, hoping to make better 
 progress, instead of following the course of the stream, 
 they left its banks, and struck out through the mount- 
 ains in the direction of Bear River. 
 
 Their supplies had by this time given entirely out; 
 the country afforded no game, and they were again 
 reduced to the verge of starvation. Their only means 
 of subsistence was by angling for fish in the streams, 
 and this afforded them but a precarious existence. So 
 great were their necessities, that they were obliged to 
 scrape the fur off of some of the beaver, buffalo, and 
 bear skins that they had in their packs and devour 
 the hides. Occasionally they came across deserted 
 Indian lodges, and in these they would sometimes 
 find dogs and small quantities of dried salmon, which 
 they ate eagerly. Finally, after wandering aimlessly 
 for many days, they reached a stream which they sup- 
 posed to be Bear River; and, following it and its 
 branches, they came, in the course of a few days, to 
 a country which was more open, though still very 
 barren and uninviting. 
 
 To their great disgust and terror, the travelers now 
 found that they had arrived in the region occupied by 
 the hostile and rascally Crow Indians. One evening 
 on their return to their camp from a fishing excursion, 
 they perceived two or three Indians (whom McClellan 
 easily recognized as belonging to the Crow tribe), 
 
164 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 lurking in the neighborhood, and the following day 
 they received a visit from a large band of these ma- 
 licious fellows. 
 
 Remembering the unpleasant experience which 
 they had had among the Crows on their march the 
 year before, the travelers determined to maintain 
 a strict watch and keep constantly on their guard. 
 They succeeded in impressing the Indians with an 
 idea of their strength, and thus preserving themselves 
 from attack, for these Indians were as cowardly as 
 they were insolent. In spite, however, of the watch- 
 fulness of the travelers the thievish Crows got the 
 better of them. They succeeded in pilfering a num- 
 ber of small articles from the baggage, and finally, 
 after following in the rear of the band for six days, 
 entered the camp one night and stole and drove off 
 all of the horses. 
 
 Even with the best conveniences for traveling, their 
 march must now necessarily have been attended with 
 difficulty and privation. The distance to be accom- 
 plished was two thousand miles ; the nature of the 
 country was entirely unknown to them, and, since 
 they had no stores, existence must have been 
 precarious in the extreme. But the dangers of the 
 journey, now that they had lost their horses, were 
 increased tenfold. Obliged to travel on foot, their 
 progress could not but be wretchedly slow ; and, as 
 they had no means of transporting provisions in 
 quantity, they knew they must depend for their sup> 
 port upon the game which they should chance to kill 
 from day to day. Even should they have a success- 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 165 
 
 ful hunt the prospects were that it would avail them 
 only for the time being, for they were already bur- 
 dened with ammunition and blankets, and could not 
 carry much in addition. 
 
 Keeping up their spirits as bravely as possible 
 under the circumstances, the men went about to pre- 
 pare for their long tramp. Selecting all that they 
 needed from their packs, they carefully deposited the 
 rest in caches, or holes dug in the ground, for the 
 concealment of goods, and then shouldered their 
 knapsacks. But, just as they were about to start, 
 one of the men, returning from examining the traps 
 which had been set the night before for beavers, re- 
 ported that he had seen two Indians watching their 
 movements from behind a rock, evidently hoping to 
 discover where they were hiding their merchandise. 
 At this information the goods were instantly un- 
 earthed, thrown in a pile, and burned, for the travelers, 
 bent on revenge of some kind, determined that, though 
 the knavish Crows had gained the advantage of them 
 in the matter of the horses, they should be disappointed 
 in their scheme of securing the surplus baggage. 
 
 Pursuing their march, they journeyed for about ten 
 days with fair dispatch and comparative comfort. 
 They had the good fortune to meet with success in 
 hunting, for they managed to kill an elk or two and 
 trap a beaver. Reaching the Mad River, they made 
 part of the journey on rafts, and, leaving the stream 
 on the 29th of September, they again took their way 
 through the wilderness, skirting the southern slopes 
 of the mountains. 
 
1 66 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Once more good fortune changed to ill. Before 
 they had gone far they found that they were on the 
 borders of the country occupied by the Blackfeet In- 
 dians, a tribe scarcely less dangerous than the Crows. 
 A halt was called forthwith, a consultation was held, 
 and after some discussion, it was decided, in spite of 
 the remonstrances of McClellan, that instead of going 
 round the mountains, thus placing themselves in 
 danger of discovery by straggling parties of Indians, 
 they should take the route directly over and across 
 them. 
 
 Thoroughly disgusted at what he regarded the 
 pusillanimity of the men, who chose to climb the 
 steep and rough peaks of the mountains rather than 
 go fearlessly forward, McClellan very sullenly accom- 
 panied his comrades. The ascent of the mountains 
 was begun at once, and, to show their spirit and 
 ardor, the travelers, most of whom were young in 
 years, not more than half the age of McClellan, each 
 mounted with alacrity, striving who should reach the 
 top first. McClellan, who was in no mood for this 
 friendly competition, soon fell behind. His spirit was 
 pne which could brook no rivalry, and, irritated be- 
 yond measure, he suddenly stopped short, and, jerk- 
 ing the beaver traps, which had been given him to 
 carry, down the slope, he swore that he would go no 
 further with such craven cowards. Mr. Stuart expos- 
 tulated with him, and, handing him a pack of dried 
 meat in place of his former burden, ordered him to go 
 forward. McClellan disdainfully threw this on the 
 ground, saying, derisively, that whoever needed it 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 167 
 
 might take it up, but he, for his part, would depend 
 for his support upon his rifle. His temper was now 
 thoroughly aroused, and, with a few contemptuous 
 words, he bade adieu, descended the mountain, and 
 set off in the direction which he had originally pro- 
 posed. 
 
 His comrades stood looking after him a few mo- 
 ments with emotions of admiration and wonder, not 
 unmingled with a sense of deep mortification. Their 
 first impulse was to follow, overtake, and accompany 
 him, but prudential considerations prevailed; and, 
 knowing that it was useless to attempt to persuade 
 him to recall his resolution, they finally resumed the 
 ascent of the mountain. Reaching the top they 
 again turned round, and saw McClellan still pursuing 
 his solitary journey, apparently unmindful of any thing 
 but placing a distance between himself and the cow- 
 ardly fellows who preferred climbing rocks to fight- 
 ing Indians. A moment after they began the descent 
 of the opposite side, and lost sight forever, as they 
 thought, of the brave man who had so long been their 
 comrade and fellow-sufferer. 
 
 For eleven days the adventurers continued their 
 weary progress through the mountains. Fearful 
 lest the noise of their guns should inform their ene- 
 mies of their presence, they did not venture to shoot 
 game, but depended for food on their beaver-trap. 
 Soon they reached a country wholly devoid of animal 
 life of any kind. Not even a wolf was to be seen. 
 Water and fuel were equally scarce, and the whole 
 aspect was extremely discouraging and gloomy. The 
 
1 68 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 moccasins of the travelers were worn out, and they 
 were obliged to make their way over the sharp rocks 
 in their bare feet, which were swollen with bruises 
 and bleeding with cruel gashes. The painful experi- 
 ence of the previous fall and winter was now suffered 
 over again : hunger and thirst, and the acutest bodily 
 anguish, were once more endured, and once again 
 death seemed to be the only relief which the future 
 could offer. 
 
 Suffering and distress had, by this time, overcome 
 the dread of the Blackfeet, and the wanderers looked 
 anxiously for traces of Indians, believing that even 
 hostile barbarians could not treat them more inhos- 
 pitably than the unfriendly wilderness. One evening, 
 having halted for the night, they perceived a cloud 
 of smoke at a distance, rising, evidently, from some 
 camp-fire, and, in hopes of finding Indians who would 
 give them relief, one of the party was dispatched to 
 the supposed encampment to negotiate. 
 
 The next morning, as he did not return, they went 
 forward. After proceeding for some distance, they 
 perceived a man approaching, and, on coming nearer, 
 they found him to be their messenger of the night 
 before. In answer to the eager inquiries of his com- 
 rades, he replied that he indeed had news, although 
 what he had to communicate would scarcely reassure 
 them. The smoke, he said, had risen from the camp- 
 fire, not of the Indians, but of their late companion, 
 McClellan, who, after wandering for twelve days, 
 almost without a morsel of food, had, at length, given 
 up in despair and lain down to die. 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 169 
 
 This intelligence for awhile drove all other thoughts 
 from their minds,, and they determined to go quickly 
 to the place where their unfortunate friend lay, min- 
 ister, if possible, to his necessities, and encourage 
 him to once more take up his journey. They knew, 
 two or three days before this, that they were on his 
 trace, having found the embers of camp-fires which they 
 judged to have been his, since they perceived tracks 
 which were undoubtedly the prints of his feet; and 
 since, on one occasion, they found the remains of a 
 miserable wolf, which could not have been slain by 
 Indians, as it had evidently provided some starving 
 man with a supper. 
 
 Reaching the place where McClellan lay, they 
 found him stretched on the ground, his face hollow 
 and deathly pale, and his once sturdy frame reduced 
 almost to skin and bones. They spoke to him, and 
 lifting his head, he feebly returned the salutation, say- 
 ing that he was rejoiced to see them, and begging 
 for food. He was told that they too, were starving, 
 and that to relieve him was, therefore, out of the 
 question at present ; but they urged him to rise and 
 go with them, in order that all might live or die 
 together. 
 
 " It is of no use," said McClellan, shaking his 
 head ; " we are all doomed to perish, and it is better 
 that we should meet our fate here than that we 
 should drop down, one by one, on the desert." 
 
 The truth of this melancholy answer was felt by 
 all, but his companions still spoke in a hopeful strain, 
 and, lifting him from the ground, led him forward a 
 
170 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 few steps. Once on his feet, he became more reso- 
 lute, and finally said, with determination, that they 
 had but to lead and he would follow. Cheers and 
 other demonstrations of enthusiasm greeted this char- 
 acteristic reply. His comrades hailed him as a hero, 
 and, sharing his rifle, knapsack, and other effects 
 among them, they aided him forward, swearing that 
 he should yet live to be, as he had been so many 
 times before, their preserver. 
 
 This day they traveled seventeen miles over a level, 
 sandy plain without tasting any food. Encamping, 
 they perceived, at a distance, a herd of antelope, and 
 McClellan, seizing his rifle, ordered all the men who 
 were able, to follow him. His will, however, was 
 stronger than his capacity, for, after running a few 
 yards, he fell fainting to the ground. Two or three 
 of his companions, who were in better case, advanced, 
 hoping to get a shot at the animals ; but, just as they 
 arrived within range, the whole herd took sudden 
 flight and ran off like the wind. 
 
 This evening the party went to bed supperless. 
 None of them had satisfied their hunger for forty- 
 eight hours, and McClellan had eaten nothing, except 
 the vile flesh of the wolf which he had killed, for 
 many days. Rendered savage by want, one of the 
 men, a Canadian, approached Mr. Stuart, the leader 
 of the party, and, with a wild expression and a de- 
 spairing voice, proposed that, as it was vain to hope 
 for rescue, and as the only alternative was the cer- 
 tain death of the whole party, one man should be 
 killed in order that the rest might live. He expressed 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 
 I 
 
 a willingness to cast lots in order to fix upon the one 
 who should be sacrificed, whispering to Mr. Stuart 
 that he, as the leader of the expedition, should be 
 exempted. 
 
 In reply to this demand, Stuart seized his rifle, and, 
 pointing it at the Canadian, commanded him to be 
 silent, threatening to blow out his brains in case he 
 ever ventured to renew so shocking a proposition. 
 The request was not repeated, but, had it been, to 
 the credit of the rest of the party be it said, it would 
 not, for a moment, have been seriously entertained, 
 since no extremity could have justified, in their sight, 
 recourse to means so barbarous, and so unworthy of 
 men truly brave. 
 
 The next day, fortune, so long adverse, once more 
 became favorable. An old run-down buffalo bull was 
 killed by one of the party, and thus the terrible wants 
 of the travelers were for a time alleviated. 
 
 The meat of the buffalo lasted them for several 
 days. By the rarest good fortune, just as they had 
 exhausted this supply, they arrived at the camp of a 
 party of Snake Indians, a poor, though very hospita- 
 ble and friendly tribe. Here they were given plenty 
 to eat, and, after they had rested for a few days, they 
 were sent on their way with a store of buffalo meat 
 and other provisions. They also received a quantity 
 of thick leather for moccasins, which they lost no time 
 in cutting up and making serviceable, for their feet 
 were sorely blistered. Another prize which they ob- 
 tained from the friendly Snakes was an old horse, 
 which they put to use, loading it with their supplies. 
 
172 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Setting out once more, the travelers made all 
 speed. It was now the latter part of October, snow 
 commenced to fall, and the weather grew very chill. 
 But, after the severe privations which they had so re- 
 cently suffered, they thought nothing of the ills of 
 their present lot, but went along in high spirits, 
 laughing and shouting as they trudged through the 
 snow. 
 
 As they proceeded, they gradually came to a coun- 
 try more inviting and better stocked with game. 
 Although the bodies of the men had been severely 
 shattered by fatigue and hunger, it did not take long 
 to recruit. McClellan regained his strength and 
 vigor in an astonishingly short time, and was soon 
 able to hunt with the rest. 
 
 On the second day of November the party en- 
 camped at a beautiful spot on the Platte River; and, 
 as the surrounding country abounded in game, they 
 determined to erect a hut at this place and remain 
 through the winter. Previous to carrying this pur- 
 pose into execution, they set about to lay in provis- 
 ions. They met with the most uncommon success. 
 In two days' hunt they killed thirty-two buffaloes, 
 and, shortly after, shot fifteen more. 
 
 A comfortable cabin was built, and the travelers, 
 well-provided with every thing necessary for the en- 
 joyment of their new life, occupied their quarters for 
 some weeks without any thing occurring to disturb 
 their repose. 
 
 One morning, however, they were rudely aroused 
 from their dreams of security and comfort by a terrible 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 175 
 
 yell, repeated several times, and, looking through the 
 cracks between the logs of their habitation, they saw, 
 to their great alarm, a number of Indian warriors, 
 hideously painted and completely armed, emerging 
 from behind trees and bushes, and approaching the 
 hut, evidently with hostile intent. 
 
 The men sprang for their weapons, and, quickly 
 loading their rifles, stood silently awaiting the or- 
 ders of their leader. McClellan, who was now in 
 his element, was not slow to grasp the situation, 
 and, while he put together his rifle, which he had 
 taken to pieces the evening before, proposed that the 
 mud should be knocked out from between the logs, so 
 as to afford a view of the enemy and enable the men 
 to fire with precision. 
 
 Although it was not thought that peaceable con- 
 clusions could be reached, it was decided to hold a 
 parley before firing. Accordingly Mr. Stuart, taking 
 with him one companion, left the cabin, and, holding 
 his gun in one hand, extended the other in token of 
 peace. Contrary to his expectations an Indian stepped 
 forward, grasped his hand and shook it heartily. 
 The rest of the party, numbering about twenty, fol- 
 lowed the example which he had set, and the whites 
 were soon on friendly terms with their visitors. The 
 savages were made welcome, and for two days were 
 liberally feasted, when, receiving an abundance of 
 supplies and a quantity of ammunition, they took 
 their departure. 
 
 Although the warriors conducted themselves with 
 tolerable decency, their fierce appearance, as well as 
 
176 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the ugly disposition which they manifested at times, 
 were far from reassuring. Besides, they had commu- 
 nicated a piece of information which caused the travel 
 ers renewed concern. They were on their way, they 
 said, to make war against a neighboring band of 
 Crows, who had attacked one of their villages dur 
 ing their absence and stolen large quantities of pro 
 visions and a number of horses. 
 
 Thus exposed to attack from two dangerous tribes, 
 the adventurers concluded that a longer stay in their 
 quarters would be attended with great jeopardy, and 
 they therefore decided to break up their encampment 
 and proceed. Loading their pack-horse with all that 
 it could carry, they set out with heavy hearts on the 
 i3th day of December, 1812, proposing to march for 
 a week or two, and then settle once more for the 
 winter. 
 
 After wandering, for about fourteen days, through 
 deep snows and over bleak prairies, they encamped 
 in a fine alluvial bottom on the Platte River, erected 
 a cabin, laid in a stock of game, and prepared to 
 enjoy themselves in this their second chosen habita- 
 tion. Fortunately, they were now left undisturbed ; 
 and they led a peaceable and happy life during their 
 stay in this pleasant place. 
 
 On the 8th of March they struck camp, and em- 
 barked in two canoes which they had hollowed from 
 the trunks of trees. Provided with plenty of every 
 thing needed for their journey, they dropped merrily 
 down the stream for some distance; but it was not 
 long before they found that continued navigation was 
 
ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 177 
 
 hopeless, since the river was, in places, extremely 
 shallow, and was often obstructed by sand-bars. 
 They accordingly landed, and went on foot, still ac- 
 companied by their faithful pack-horse. 
 
 The country through which they marched was re- 
 markably fertile, and was filled with game in amazing 
 variety and abundance. Flocks of wild-geese and 
 waterfowl crowded every stream, or peopled the air, 
 so as almost to darken the heavens, while immense 
 herds of buffalo tramped over the boundless plains 
 in such numbers that the ears of the travelers were 
 constantly filled with the roar of their echoing hoofs. 
 The adventurers remembered their former distress in 
 the desolate wilderness; and, contrasting their pres- 
 ent situation with their past, wondered at the myste- 
 rious ways of Providence. 
 
 After various adventures, they reached one of the 
 villages of the Otto Indians, on the lower Platte. 
 Here they met two white traders from St. Louis ; 
 and from them they learned, .for the first time, that 
 war existed between the United States and Great 
 Britain. At this point they were provided with a 
 large canoe ; and, taking once more to the river, 
 they went on their way. Their passage was easy 
 and agreeable. The Missouri was reached in the 
 course of a few days ; and, shortly afterward, the 
 party arrived, in excellent health and spirits, at St. 
 Louis. 
 
 The remainder of Robert McClellan's life is soon 
 told. Shortly after his return to St. Louis, he pur' 
 chased a stock of goods, and opened a trading-station 
 
1/8 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 at a place named Cape Girardeau. In consequence 
 of the great hardships to which he had been sub- 
 jected, his health became seriously impaired; and, 
 continuing to fail, he died, at his establishment, to- 
 ward the close of the following year. Thus termin- 
 ated the checkered career of this brave and famous 
 adventurer. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 
 
 JOHN McCULLOUGH was born, about the year 
 J 1748, in Newcastle County, Delaware. A short 
 time before the beginning of the French and Indian 
 War, his parents removed to one of the frontier set- 
 tlements of Pennsylvania, where they purchased a tract 
 of land, and settled with their family. By thrift and 
 industry, they soon succeeded in placing themselves 
 in easy circumstances, erecting a comfortable habita- 
 tion, clearing the country around them, and rendering 
 their ground cultivable and highly productive. 
 
 The family had not occupied their new home long 
 before the growing aggressiveness of the French and 
 their Indian allies spread alarm and terror throughout 
 the British settlements. Depredations became numer- 
 ous, many lives were lost, and the whole country lay 
 at the mercy of the savages. Alarmed for the safety 
 of his family, Mr. McCullough determined to fly from 
 so dangerous a neighborhood ; and accordingly re- 
 moved, with his wife and children, to a part of the 
 State which was more remote from the Indian country, 
 and which, being more thickly settled, was regarded 
 as comparatively secure. 
 
 In the spring of 1 756, the year after the memorable 
 defeat of General Braddock, Mr. McCullough, learn- 
 
I SO THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ing that the hostile spirit of the Indians had subsided 
 somewhat, concluded that it was safe to return ; but 
 he had no sooner reached his frontier home than the 
 alarm was again spread, and he was once more com- 
 pelled to flee. This time, he remained until the be- 
 ginning of the harvest season, when, solicitous for the 
 safety of his crops, he started home for the second 
 time, taking with him his family and effects. But, 
 fearing lest the Indians should learn of his return, 
 and lie in wait for him, he did not think it prudent to 
 take his family the whole distance ; but, leaving them 
 in a cabin several miles from his home, went on alone 
 to garner the crops, with the promise to return at the 
 end of each day. 
 
 On the 26th of July, 1756, Mr. McCullough, with 
 his wife and eldest daughter, set out, early in the 
 morning, for the farm, intending to pull flax. They 
 were accompanied by a neighbor, Mr. John Allen, 
 who was on his way to a fort at some distance, and 
 who proposed to meet them in the evening, and re- 
 turn with them. 
 
 Mr. Allen went with the McCulloughs to their field ; 
 and, leaving them at work, continued his journey. He 
 had gone about two miles, when he saw a man running 
 toward him at break-neck speed from an adjoining 
 wood ; and, stopping his horse, he waited until he 
 came up, and then asked what was the matter. 
 When the man had time to recover his breath, he said 
 that he had been working with a companion in the 
 field, about a mile and a half from the McCullough 
 farm, when a shot was fired by an Indian from a 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. l8l 
 
 neighboring thicket. His companion fell dead; and 
 he, also, would doubtless have been killed, had he not 
 betaken himself to flight, and so escaped. 
 
 Without waiting to learn more, Allen turned round ; 
 and, taking a circuitous route, in order to avoid the 
 Indians, whom he supposed to be in the neighbor- 
 hood, set out for his home. Arriving at the dwelling 
 temporarily occupied by the McCulloughs, he called 
 to Mr. McCullough's little boy, John, who, with his 
 younger brother, was playing in the road; and, in- 
 forming him that a man had been killed a few hours 
 before by the Indians, and that his father, mother, and 
 sister had probably shared a like fate, told him to 
 go immediately into the house, and then rode off to 
 arouse the neighborhood. 
 
 John McCullough was, at this time, about eight 
 years old. For one so youthful, he possessed sin- 
 gular resolution, courage, and discretion ; and, in- 
 stead of following Mr. Allen's advice, and seeking 
 his own safety, his thoughts were occupied with con- 
 cern for his parents ; and he accordingly set his mind 
 to work to devise some scheme for obtaining their 
 rescue. The men of the surrounding country soon 
 gathered in a body ; and it was determined that, since 
 an Indian attack was imminent, they should proceed, 
 with their families, to a fort about a mile distant, and 
 there take shelter. Young McCullough endeavored 
 in vain to induce them to march to the relief of his 
 parents, or else to send a messenger to inform them 
 of their danger. They told him that his father and 
 mother had, by this time, doubtless, been murdered ; 
 
1 82 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 and concluded by instructing him to get ready and 
 join them in their proposed inarch to the fort. 
 
 Finding that no one would undertake to go to the 
 place where his parents were at work and inform them 
 of their peril, the boy resolved to perform the duty 
 himself. He therefore went into the house, kissed 
 his little sister, who lay sleeping in her bed, good- 
 bye, barred the door; and, climbing out through the 
 window, rejoined his brother, and started with him, 
 unnoticed by any person, in the direction of his 
 father's home. 
 
 Running as fast as possible, the two boys soon 
 came within sight of the house; and, rejoiced at the 
 thought of having succeeded in their design, com- 
 menced to sing and halloo. But, when within fifty 
 or sixty yards of the cabin, they were suddenly start- 
 led by a rustling in the bushes on their right; and, 
 casting a fearful glance in the direction from which 
 the noise came, they almost sank to the ground in 
 fright when they saw six Indians, hideously painted 
 and grotesquely clad, gliding noiselessly toward them. 
 
 To capture the boys was the work of but an in- 
 stant; and, stifling their screams, the Indians started 
 off with them at full speed. John, who was quite 
 large and stout for his age, was made to keep pace 
 with the party ; but his brother, a child of five years s 
 was taken up and carried by one of the savages. 
 
 Skirting the field where John's parents were at 
 work, the Indians ran swiftly and silently, occasion- 
 ally stopping to listen. Soon they heard the voice 
 of Mr. McGiUough, at a distance, calling his children, 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 183 
 
 whose screams he had heard, and whom he had gone 
 to look for. After a moment's consultation among 
 the Indians, two of them, cocking their rifles and 
 stealing silently through the bushes, set off in the 
 direction from which the voice was heard, while 
 the other four continued their flight with renewed 
 speed. 
 
 The savages traveled with their prisoners all day, 
 allowing them scarcely a moment for rest. Toward 
 evening it commenced to rain. The water fell in 
 torrents, but the Indians did not slacken their speed. 
 Darkness came on, and still they proceeded without 
 a halt ; and it was not until very late that they finally 
 stopped and prepared for rest. The two boys spent 
 a very unhappy and restless night, lying without a 
 covering on the bare damp earth. 
 
 The following day, the Indians proceeded with equal 
 expedition, and did not stop even to take food. On 
 the morning of the third day, they made a bountiful 
 repast on some game which had been killed, the 
 first morsel which either the savages or their captives 
 had eaten since they commenced their flight. While 
 sitting round their fire, a loud whoop was heard in the 
 valley below. The Indians arose, and listened intently. 
 The cry was repeated ; and, apparently satisfied, the 
 four savages set up an answering yell. In a few mo- 
 ments, two warriors were seen approaching; and, on 
 a nearer view, young McCullough recognized them 
 as the Indians who, on hearing his fathers call, had 
 started off, as he feared at the time, in search of ? 
 new victim. 
 
184 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Closely scrutinizing these men, the boy saw, to his 
 unspeakable horror, that one of them carried in his 
 belt a scalp which he had taken, apparently, a day 
 or two before. And, casting a fearful glance at this 
 bloody token of savage barbarity, his horror changed 
 to despair when he discovered that the hair, which 
 was long, bushy, and very black, closely resembled 
 that of his father. Wishing to assure himself beyond 
 a doubt of the correctness of his suspicions, he ap- 
 proached the Indian, and was about to examine the 
 scalp more narrowly, when the savage, drawing his 
 tomahawk from his belt, and uttering a fiendish yell, 
 raised it in the air, and then let it fall swiftly, appar- 
 ently with the intention of burying it in the boy's 
 head. But, quickly changing his purpose, he checked 
 the weapon, restored it to his belt, and then, clutching 
 the youth by the hair, seized his knife, and passed its 
 sharp point dexterously around the scalp. Paralyzed 
 with terror, McCullough sank fainting to the ground. 
 On reviving, his ears were greeted with a series of 
 sharp, short yells ; and, venturing to look at the In- 
 dians, he saw them rolling on the ground, convulsed 
 with merriment, and giving utterance to the most ex- 
 travagant bursts of laughter. 
 
 The rude treatment which he had received from 
 the facetious Indian did not encourage the boy to 
 seek another opportunity of ascertaining whether his 
 fears were well or ill-grounded. He was, however, 
 fully persuaded that the scalp which the savage car- 
 ried was that of his father; and, thoroughly disheart- 
 ened by this dreadful conviction he gave up in despair, 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 187 
 
 fearing that a similar fate would soon be his own 
 portion. 
 
 Toward the close of this day, the party crossed a 
 broad road, in sight of a waste house, and, proceed- 
 ing about a quarter of a mile further on, they ate 
 their supper, and encamped for the night. Immedi- 
 ately after passing the road, the thought suddenly 
 flashed across the mind of young McCullough that 
 they were in a country occupied by white settlers; 
 and that, if he could succeed in getting away, he 
 might, by following the highway, soon find protectors 
 and friends. 
 
 Filled with the idea of fortunate escape and happy 
 return, he waited until the Indians were asleep; and 
 then, gently awakening his brother, who lay by his 
 side, whispered to him to rise and prepare for flight. 
 But, to his great astonishment and disgust, the child 
 refused to stir, saying that the Indians would cer- 
 tainly discover and kill them both. Remonstrance 
 and entreaty were vain ; and the adventurous youth, 
 finding that his brother would not be persuaded, re- 
 solved to make the attempt alone. 
 
 Lying perfectly silent for a few moments, he list- 
 ened with breathless anxiety, seeking to ascertain 
 whether the Indians were all sleeping, and revolving 
 in his mind what plan he should adopt in case of de- 
 tection. By the fitful light of the fire, he saw that 
 the savages lay between him and the open space be- 
 yond the camp, and that he should have to step over 
 their bodies before he could begin his flight. They, 
 seemed to be in deep slumber, for they breathed 
 
1 88 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 heavily, and lay absolutely motionless. The boy rose 
 silently from the ground; and, taking a survey of the 
 sleeping men, was about to make a step forward, when 
 one of the savages, rolling in his sleep, muttered a 
 few unintelligible words in Indian. McCullough in- 
 stantly sank to the ground. In a few moments, as 
 the Indian did not stir, he again arose ; and, advanc- 
 ing cautiously, stepped over the form of one of his 
 captors without awakening him. With the utmost 
 silence, he continued to make his way, and finally 
 arrived on open ground a few yards from the fire. 
 
 Thinking that he had not been perceived, he fan- 
 cied that all that now remained was to make the best 
 of his escape ; but he had no sooner prepared to run, 
 than one of the Indians, rising from the ground, 
 sternly asked him, in broken English, where he was 
 going? Although this unexpected address filled the 
 boy with dismay, he was not unprepared for the emer- 
 gency, and he returned an answer which quieted the 
 suspicions of his interlocutor, who, saying merely, 
 "Make haste; come, sleep," again lay down. The 
 boy now knew that escape was hopeless ; and in a 
 few moments he returned to the camp, and took his 
 place on the ground next to his brother. 
 
 The destination of the Indians was Fort Duquesne, 
 the French head-quarters, situated on the present site 
 of Pittsburgh. They traveled with great speed, and 
 young McCullough was obliged to make the entire 
 distance on foot. Besides suffering a great deal from 
 privation and fatigue, he was several times sorely 
 beaten by his cruel and malicious captors, who threat- 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 189 
 
 ened him with death the instant that he showed any 
 sign of giving up. 
 
 A short time before they arrived at Fort Duquesne, 
 the Indians pulled all of the hair out of the heads of 
 the two boys, excepting a small tuft on their crowns, 
 to which they tied several hawk's feathers; and then, 
 painting the faces of their captives in a most ugly and 
 barbarous manner, they raised the war-halloo, and 
 marched into the town. After the customary greet- 
 ings had been exchanged, the two boys were taken 
 to a French house, where they found a number of 
 Indians sitting on the floor. They were received 
 and treated with very little ceremony; for, immedi- 
 ately on their entrance, one of the warriors, appar- 
 ently a chie/, took the younger lad by the hand, and, 
 leading him to the door, gave him to a Frenchman, 
 who stood waiting. He next turned to John McCul- 
 lough, and, after a few words, led him to an Indian 
 who sat smoking on the hearth ; and, presenting the 
 boy to him, made a brief address, evidently by way 
 of instruction. Though McCullough could not un- 
 derstand a word that was spoken, he knew that he 
 was now to regard the warrior as his master, and he 
 therefore sat quietly down by his side, waiting for him 
 to speak. 
 
 After the chief had finished his exhortation, the 
 Indian, taking the youth between his legs, told him 
 in English that he was glad to see him. He saluted 
 him as his brother, saying that the Indian braves had 
 several times before brought young white boys into 
 camp ; and that about a year since a white youth had 
 
THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 been taken by them, and had been given to him as his 
 brother. But, he added, his young white brother had 
 not behaved himself properly, he evidently did not 
 love his red brethren, and his conduct was so bad 
 that it had been found necessary to kill him. The 
 Indian said that he was very sorry ; and he expressed 
 the hope that his new brother would be more tracta- 
 ble, and, instead of being killed while young, would 
 some day become a hunter and brave. 
 
 This savage was very communicative, and appeared 
 to be more intelligent and better disposed than most 
 of his tribe. He said that he had lived for many years 
 among the whites, having, indeed, been raised by them, 
 and taught to read and write. He spoke tolerable 
 English, and could repeat the letters of the alphabet, 
 although, farther than this, his attainments were not 
 very extensive. 
 
 After a brief conversation the Indian took the 
 youth by the hand and led him out of the house to- 
 ward the river. Embarking in a canoe, they crossed 
 the stream to a point where a number of Indians 
 were encamped. Here, while his master made merry 
 with the rest of his people, young McCullough was 
 given to two youths, who, stepping into the canoe, 
 and placing him between them, paddled about forty 
 yards from the shore. They then stopped, and, seiz- 
 ing the boy by the wrists, plunged him into the 
 water, where they held him until he was almost 
 strangled. Drawing him up at the end of a minute 
 or two, they permitted him to breathe, and then re- 
 peated the process a number of times. Thinking 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN MCCULLOUGH. 
 
 that their object was to drown him, he pleaded so 
 piteously for mercy that one of the youths finally 
 quieted his fears by saying: "Me no killim ; me 
 washim," an assurance which he followed up by 
 again plunging the boy over his head in the water. 
 When the ablution was completed, the boat was 
 rowed to the shore, and young McCullough was 
 given a new ruffled shirt and a pair of trowsers, and 
 informed that he was now to appear and act as an 
 Indian. A day or two after, the young man, whom he 
 regarded as his master, bade him adieu, and he was 
 taken to a town called Shenango, at some distance, 
 and placed in an Indian family. 
 
 He now found that the savage who had addressed 
 him as his brother, and given him so much good ad- 
 vice, was a nephew of the old man whom he was 
 henceforth to regard as his Indian father, and conse- 
 quently that the relationship which he was to bear 
 him was, indeed, that of a brother. 
 
 The first few months of his life at Shenango were 
 passed by the boy with little incident. His new re- 
 lations lost no time in acquainting him with the duties 
 of Indian domestic life. He was obliged to work 
 hard ; and, in order that his physical education might 
 be made as complete as possible, he was frequently 
 required to give proof of his spirit and prowess by 
 contests with youths of his own age and size. The 
 Indians evidently had very little faith in the efficacy 
 of the methods of raising and training children prev- 
 alent among the whites ; and young McCullough was 
 therefore obliged to go through what may be termed 
 
THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the process of "hardening" before he was looked 
 upon by his Indian father and brothers with any other 
 emotions than contempt and pity. 
 
 Early one morning, about the end of October, he 
 was aroused from his sleep by the old Indian, and 
 told to get out of bed immediately. He obeyed, 
 and was about to put on his clothes, when the savage 
 checked him, and, opening the door of the cabin, 
 commanded him to leave the room and go ahead of 
 him to the river. Not daring to protest, he did as 
 he was ordered, and, issuing from the hut, walked, 
 without a garment to cover him, in the chill morning 
 air, toward the stream. Arriving on the bank, he sat 
 down, waiting for the old man to come up. For 
 nearly fifteen minutes he sat shivering on the cold 
 earth, and then, as the Indian did not appear, arose, 
 and was about to return when he saw his master 
 coming leisurely toward him, smoking his pipe. The 
 old Indian, on arriving where the boy sat, suddenly 
 stopped, and then, turning round as if he had for- 
 gotten something, retraced his steps to the cabin. 
 In a few moments he reappeared, carrying a thin, flat 
 board in one hand. He came up to the boy, and, 
 taking his pipe from his mouth, pointed to the water, 
 and ordered him to wade into it and sit down. In- 
 dignant at the treatment which he had received, 
 McCulJough, who was very spirited and rebellious, 
 refused, and, turning round, was about to run, when 
 the Indian seized him by the throat, and. grasping 
 his paddle, commenced to thrash him unmercifully. 
 After administering a severe punishment, he repeated 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN MCCULLOUGH. 193 
 
 his order, and the boy, fearing lest his master should 
 beat him to death, complied, and, walking into the 
 river, sat down in the cold water. The Indian ex- 
 pressed himself satisfied, and stood for awhile look- 
 ing at the youth, smoking his pipe in the meantime 
 with great complacency. 
 
 After he had sat for about ten minutes, McCul- 
 lough was told that he might come out, and accord- 
 ingly left the water. The Indian then hit him a 
 smart blow, and ordered him to run around till his 
 flesh should be perfectly dry. The boy obeyed, 
 and, when he had taken the proper exercise, was per- 
 mitted to return to the house, clothe himself, and sit 
 by the fire. The next morning he was put through 
 the same ordeal, and each successive morning was 
 taken from his bed, and compelled by the old man to 
 sit for a few minutes up to his chin in the water. So 
 fixed was the Indian's determination to "harden" 
 the yOuth by this stern process, that, when the frosts 
 of winter closed the stream, he would take an axe, 
 break the ice, and send him into the freezing current as 
 before, never permitting him to go near the fire until 
 his flesh had been dried by chafing or swift running. 
 
 In consequence of this cruel treatment it was not 
 long before the boy was taken very ill. Having no 
 one to care for him but an Indian woman, a careless, 
 slovenly creature, he became worse and worse, and 
 fell into an almost hopeless condition ; but, receiving 
 after awhile kinder attention and more skillful nurs- 
 ing, he gradually commenced to gain, and, finally, 
 recovered. 
 
194 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 As it was now spring, McCullough's Indian father, 
 thinking, no doubt, that the warmer temperature of 
 the water would have an enervating effect, did not 
 continue the hardening process. He kept the boy, 
 however, at hard work, and obliged him to fight and 
 wrestle, in order that he might become active and 
 obtain good muscular development. In all the duties 
 imposed upon him the youth showed himself to be 
 very faithful, and, by the address which he displayed 
 in his sparring and wrestling matches, soon gained 
 the favor of his masters and associates, by whom, 
 instead of being looked down upon as the puny 
 white boy, he was now praised and respected as the 
 active and dexterous Indian youth. 
 
 During the summer young McCullough was taken 
 by the savages to a council of the Indians at Pres- 
 quile, held for the purpose of effecting a treaty with 
 the French. While on their way the party stopped 
 at a trading-station to barter for goods and ammuni- 
 tion. At this place, an old Frenchman, seeing the 
 boy, and admiring his strength and activity, proposed 
 to purchase him from his Indian masters. A dis- 
 pute with regard to terms followed. To the intense 
 disgust of the Indians, the trader, instead of offering 
 them provisions, rum, and powder and ball, went to 
 his canoe, which was fastened to a stake on the 
 shore, and, taking from it an old rusty spade, want- 
 ing the handle, returned and offered the implement in 
 exchange, saying that the bargain would be a most 
 advantageous one to them, and threatening, unless 
 they agreed to his terms, to call his comrades and 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 195 
 
 take the youth from them by force. Overhearing 
 this proposition and threat, young McCullough, 
 deeply incensed, came up to the man, and asked 
 leave to examine the tool, remarking, at the same 
 time, that the offer was a fair one, and should be ac- 
 cepted. The Frenchman handed him the spade, 
 when McCullough, grasping it with both hands, 
 raised it in the air and dealt him so powerful a blow 
 that he fell senseless. The alarm was at once raised, 
 and the wounded man's comrades hastened to the 
 rescue, hoping to apprehend the Indians ; but the 
 latter, quickly taking to their canoes, escaped up the 
 river. 
 
 At Presquile, McCullough was left with an old 
 squaw, by whom he was very well used, until the 
 fall, when the Indian who called himself his brother 
 came to take him back to Shenango. Upon his ar- 
 rival he fell dangerously ill of the pleurisy, and, 
 although he received kind and attentive treatment, it 
 was nearly a month before he rose from his sick-bed. 
 
 After his recovery, the life which he had previ- 
 ously led continued with little variation. He re- 
 mained for about two years and one-half in Shenango, 
 and then removed with the family to Salt Licks, on 
 the Beaver River. As time advanced, he became, 
 by the force of circumstances, gradually transformed 
 into an Indian youth, both in manner and appearance. 
 
 During his stay with the family of his adopted 
 parents, he met with, a number of very serious mis- 
 adventures. On one occasion he came very near 
 being drowned, and was saved only by the timely 
 
196 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 aid of an old squaw, who discovered him floating on 
 the water, arid raised the alarm. Her husband 
 came to the rescue, dragged the youth to the shore, 
 held him for a few moments head downwards, and 
 finally succeeded, though with great difficulty, in 
 resuscitating him. He was several times cruelly 
 beaten and maltreated ; and some of the stories which 
 he relates in his narrative of Indian malice and bar- 
 barity are peculiarly revolting. One of these will 
 serve to show the lengths to which punishment for 
 trivial offenses was carried by the more brutal of 
 the Indian tribes. 
 
 The Indian youth among whom McCullough was 
 thrown, were much addicted to thievishness, lying, 
 and all kinds of petty villainy. Watermelon and 
 cucumber-patches were never safe from their depre- 
 dations, and mischief of every sort was committed 
 by them so frequently that it was exceedingly rare 
 that a day passed without some one being severely 
 chastised. 
 
 In order to render crime odious in the sight of 
 the youth, by making its punishment summary and 
 terrible, one of the Indians invented an instrument 
 of torture which, when once used on the body of 
 an offender, was but poorly calculated to induce 
 him to invite a second chastisement. This instru- 
 ment was made of the long, bony bill of the gar, 
 a fish exceedingly abundant in the Western waters, 
 and was formed by projecting the sharp teeth of 
 the animal through a wet rag. When an offense 
 was committed which merited punishment with the 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 1 97 
 
 instrument, the unfortunate youth was stripped 
 naked, his flesh was thoroughly dampened, in order 
 to prevent it from tearing-, and he was scored from 
 his hip to his heel, three or four times on each leg. 
 When his offense was peculiarly odious, he was 
 scored cruelly all over his body, often from the top 
 of his shoulders to his heels, and thence on the 
 soles of his feet to his toes, and sometimes on his 
 breast and belly, and even on his face. 
 
 The man who first brought this terrible instrument 
 into use had a boy who was very mischievous and 
 quarrelsome, and who, on account of his wicked ways, 
 was often punished by his father with such extreme 
 rigor that his back, arms, thighs and legs were con- 
 stantly lacerated and raw. Not satisfied with being 
 in trouble himself, this boy was frequently the means 
 of causing his companions disgrace and chastisement 
 on accout of offenses for which he was responsible, or 
 of which he was the agent. 
 
 One day, young McCullough was sent by the wife 
 of his Indian brother on an errand to the cabin of 
 this man. He performed the message with which he 
 was intrusted, and then started to return, when the 
 mischievous Indian boy, running up to him, ad- 
 dressed him a few insulting words, and then, stoop- 
 ing to the ground, picked up the putrid entrails of a 
 turtle, and throwing them in his face, started to run. 
 Provoked beyond measure, McCullough seized a 
 stone, and, pursuing the young Indian, hurled it with 
 such force that, striking him on the head, it knocked 
 
 him senseless and bleeding to the ground. 
 
 11. 
 
198 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Terrified at the effect of the blow, and fearful of 
 receiving severe punishment for the part which he 
 had borne in the quarrel, young McCullough, after 
 striving in vain to raise his wounded adversary, ran 
 to one of the out-houses belonging to the cabin, and 
 concealed himself among some bales of deer-skins 
 and furs. He had not lain long before he heard a 
 bustle in the yard, followed by the sound of angry 
 voices. Venturing to look through a crack in the 
 side of the building, he saw the father of the Indian 
 boy stalking around in a furious rage, and inquiring 
 with oaths and violent demonstrations for the of- 
 fender. 
 
 He was told by one of his children, who had been 
 a quiet spectator of the affair, that the deed had been 
 committed by the white youth, who had immediately 
 made off and concealed himself in the thick bushes 
 bordering a neighboring creek. The enraged Indian, 
 on receiving this information, ran to the place which, 
 the child indicated, and made a careful search ; but, 
 being unsuccessful, returned in a still more savage 
 mood. Determined on making an example of some 
 one, he seized the child who had given the false in- 
 formation, and, stripping it naked, quickly scored it 
 from head to foot with his barbarous instrument. 
 This done, he glared fiercely round, and, swearing 
 that he would treat every one of the family in the same 
 way, laid hold of the other children, and was about 
 to inflict a second dreadful punishment, when young 
 McCullough, knowing that he would soon be dis- 
 covered, and being too generous to allow the inno- 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 199 
 
 cent to suffer for his offense, came from his place of 
 concealment. 
 
 He was instantly pounced upon by the savage, 
 who, grinding his teeth with rage, and grinning with 
 malicious joy, ordered him to strip and stand up by 
 a post, which he pointed out. The unfortunate youth 
 obeyed, and the Indian, dashing over him a bucket of 
 water, took his dreaded instrument, and grasping his 
 victim by the throat, drew it quickly across his back 
 from his shoulder to his hip, and then scored him a 
 number of times on each thigh and leg. In his eager- 
 ness to finish the work of punishment he took very 
 little care to prevent the flesh from tearing, and the 
 consequence was, that when he finished the opera- 
 tion, his victim was almost senseless from loss of 
 blood, and his body was so lacerated that, in some 
 places, great pieces of skin had either been torn 
 completely off, or else hung loosely. McCullough 
 did not recover from the effects of this brutal treat- 
 ment for many months, and he bore the marks of it 
 to his grave. 
 
 In spite of the ill usage which he received on 
 several occasions, and his dread of the malicious and 
 revengeful disposition of the Indians, the boy grew 
 very much attached to his life, and had no desire to 
 return home. He had two or three opportunities of 
 communicating with his friends through white traders, 
 but, strange as it may seem, he did not avail himself 
 of them, preferring to remain among his savage cap- 
 tors. Every tie which had connected him with his 
 home was now severed. He had long since 
 
2OO THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 given up all hope of again seeing his father or 
 mother, for he believed both of them to be dead. 
 He had also lost sight of his younger brother, 
 whom he had not seen or heard of since parting 
 from him at Fort Duquesne. His appearance and 
 actions were those of an Indian, and he spoke the 
 Indian tongue fluently, almost without the suspicion 
 of an English accent. 
 
 When he had been with the savages for about four 
 years, he one day received a visit from a white man, 
 who, from the emotion which he manifested on seeing 
 him, and from the earnestness with which he scruti- 
 nized his features, evidently felt for him the deepest 
 concern and interest. The stranger, when he could 
 command his voice, asked the boy his name, and in- 
 quired of him regarding his previous history, his 
 parents, and his hopes and intentions for the future. 
 To these questions young McCullough answered in 
 Indian, for he no longer spoke his mother tongue, 
 through an interpreter. He was very reticent, and 
 said that he had nothing of importance to tell ; that 
 he had once been a white boy, but that he was now 
 an Indian ; and, finally, that he was content with his 
 present lot, and would some day be a great warrior. 
 The stranger again questioned him about his home, 
 asking him if he would not be rejoiced to hear that 
 his parents were still living, and that there was a pos- 
 sibility of his returning to them. The boy shook his 
 head, and replied that he was better off among his 
 red friends, adding, that his parents would not know 
 him nor he them. At this the man burst into tears, 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 2OI 
 
 and, embracing him, told him that he was his father; 
 that he still loved him ; that, learning of his where- 
 abouts, he had come a long distance to see him, and 
 that he would soon come again to redeem and carry 
 him home. Young McCullough did not speak, and 
 manifested little feelinpf, and in a short time his father 
 
 o * 
 
 took' his departure, very sorrowful and downcast. 
 
 This incident occurred while the boy was living at 
 Mahoning, to which place he had been taken from the 
 Salt Licks. About six months later his father, ac- 
 companied by a friend, came again, and, after a 
 brief negotiation, the youth was given up to him and 
 informed that he was to return to his white friends. 
 
 This intelligence, which, as one would suppose, 
 would have been most welcome, was received by the 
 youth with every demonstration of grief. He clung 
 to his Indian brother, begging him to refuse the 
 ransom money, and to send the white men away as 
 they came ; but he was told that the agreement had 
 been made, and that he must prepare to leave. * 
 He wept bitterly, and spoke words of rage and 
 scorn, but it was all to no purpose, and he was 
 finally placed on the back of a horse and ordered 
 to proceed. He threw himself from the animal, and 
 tried to escape ; but he was soon overtaken, replaced 
 on the steed, and his legs tied under its belly. In 
 this helpless condition he was carried off, in spite 
 of his remonstrances, by his father, who, though 
 rejoiced at having recovered his long-lost son, 
 went forward with a very sad countenance and a 
 heavv heart. 
 
2O2 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 After riding for about fifteen miles the party, com- 
 posed of Mr. McCullough, his captive son, and a 
 guide, dismounted and prepared to camp. Fearing 
 that the boy, who had joined him with so much re- 
 luctance, and who, during the journey, had evidently 
 been brooding over his wrongs, might try to run 
 away, Mr. McCullough took the garters from his 
 legs, and with them tied his arms behind his back. 
 He then lay down, placing John between himself 
 and the guide. When his two companions were 
 asleep, the .boy quickly loosed the cord with which 
 his arms were bound, rose from the ground, and, 
 stepping over his father, ran silently and quickly 
 away. He had not gone more than a hundred 
 yards when, stopping to listen, he heard the bark- 
 ing of a dog which belonged to the guide, accom- 
 panied by a noise in the bushes behind him as of 
 men in pursuit. Knowing that the dog would cer- 
 tainly track and overtake him, he stopped short 
 and climbed a tall tree. He had no sooner con- 
 cealed himself among the branches than the dog 
 came up, and stopping at the foot of the tree, ran 
 around it several times, and then went ahead. Mr. 
 McCullough and the guide appeared a few moments 
 later, following the lead of the dog, and cheering 
 him on. They hunted for the boy several hours, 
 and then returned, very much dejected. 
 
 After a sufficient time had passed, the fugitive 
 descended from his place of concealment, and ran 
 through the forest until he came to the road 
 by which the party had come the day before, 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 203 
 
 when, taking his course in the direction of Ma- 
 honing, he traveled for about three miles, and then, 
 fearing lest he should be devoured by the wolves, 
 which kept up a hideous howling all around him, 
 and several of which brushed past him as he jour- 
 neyed along the road, he mounted another tree 
 and remained in its branches until daybreak. Re- 
 suming his flight, he soon arrived among his In- 
 dian friends, and was received by them with great 
 delight, being congratulated on the shrewdness 
 which he had displayed in escaping from his watch- 
 ful father, and assured that he would be given con- 
 cealment and protection. A' few hours afterward 
 Mr. McCullough arrived at the camp, but the In- 
 dians told him that nothing had been seen of the 
 boy, and he was therefore forced to make the jour- 
 ney alone. 
 
 During the next few years young McCullough 
 grew rapidly in strength and activity, and, though 
 he was yet a mere boy, was permitted by the In- 
 dian warriors to accompany them on several of 
 their hunting excursions. As he became older, he 
 grew more thoughtful, and, though he still loved 
 the freedom and excitement of his adventurous 
 life, he began to regret that he had sent his 
 father home in disappointment. Reflecting on the 
 uninviting character of his future, he determined 
 that, if another opportunity should offer, he would 
 take advantage of it; and the desire of return 
 finally took such strong possession of his mind 
 that he resolved to seek the good fortune which 
 
2O4 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 he hoped was in store for him rather than to await 
 it. Circumstances proved favorable. 
 
 In the fall of 1764, Colonel Boquet made an 
 expedition against the. Indian tribes. He met with 
 complete success. A large body of savages surren- 
 dered at discretion, and were taken to Pittsburgh 
 the name given by the English to Fort Duquesne,- 
 which had fallen into their hands some years be- 
 fore and placed in confinement. Among the pris- 
 oners was McCullough, who, thrown once more 
 among his own people, easily found means of com- 
 municating with his parents. Arrangements for set- 
 ting him at-liberty were soon effected, and he re- 
 turned home in December, 1 764, after an absence of 
 eight years, four months and sixteen days. 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 
 
 ''PHIS noted spy and ranger was born in 1758, in 
 1 the town of Shippensburg, Pennsylvania. He 
 was of Irish extraction his grandfather, Hugh Brady, 
 having emigrated to America early in the eighteenth 
 century. His father, John Brady, fought bravely and 
 with distinction in the French and Indian war, receiv- 
 ing a captain's commission as a reward of meritorious 
 conduct ; and throughout the border troubles with the 
 Indians he rendered active and very efficient service 
 as a frontiersman of marked courage, and as a scout 
 of enterprise and intrepidity. 
 
 In 1775, at the age of seventeen, Samuel Brady 
 enlisted in a volunteer rifle company, commanded by 
 Captain John Lowden. In the various engagements 
 of the Revolution, in which he participated, he bore, 
 for one of his years, a most conspicuous part ; and it 
 was not long before the value of his services received 
 substantial recognition, for he was promptly raised to a 
 lieutenancy. Promotion followed rapidly; and, before 
 he had reached the age of twenty-one, he was placed 
 in command of a company in the regiment of General 
 Broadhead, and dispatched for duty in the West. 
 Soon after his arrival at Pittsburgh, in April, 1779, 
 
 he received the news of the murder of his father by the 
 
 (205) 
 
2O6 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Indians. A few months before, his younger brother, 
 James Brady, had been cruelly butchered. The deaths 
 of his father and brother, following so close upon one 
 another, and occurring under circumstances so terrible, 
 made a profound impression on Samuel's mind ; and 
 the spirit of retaliation was so deeply aroused within 
 him, that he took a solemn oath that he would devote 
 the remainder of his life to avenging the wrongs of his 
 people, and waging an exterminating warfare against 
 all Indians. 
 
 The army commanded by General Broadhead, quar- 
 tered at Pittsburgh, was intrusted with the defense of 
 the frontier. The country to the north and west of 
 the Alleghany River was held by the Indian allies ol 
 the British ; and as it was highly important that the 
 enemy should not be permitted to come beyond the 
 border, General Broadhead found it necessary to send 
 out numerous scouting expeditions to watch their 
 movements, and obtain information respecting their 
 intentions. 
 
 Early in 1780, he received instructions from Genera? 
 Washington to dispatch a competent officer to San- 
 dusky, with orders to examine that place, and ascer- 
 tain the strength* of the British and Indians assem- 
 bled there. Without waiting to consult any of his 
 aides, General Broadhead summoned Captain Brady 
 to his presence, showed him Washington's letter, 
 gave him a rough chart or map of the country, and, 
 commissioning him to perform the service, told him 
 to select the men whom he wished to accompany 
 him, and be off without delay. 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 2OJ 
 
 Highly gratified at the confidence reposed in him 
 bv his superior officer, Brady was not long in mak- 
 ing his preparations. Choosing a number of soldiers 
 for his companions, and selecting four Chickasaw In- 
 dians as guides, he crossed the Alleghany River, and 
 advanced into the enemy's country. 
 
 Few persons can have an adequate idea of the 
 dangers incurred by the early adventurers. To lead 
 an expedition against the fierce and warlike savages, 
 or even to engage in such an expedition under a 
 brave and tried leader, must, indeed, have required 
 a bold spirit. Success, when once achieved, was de- 
 cisive, and brought its certain reward; but the odds 
 which had to be met were correspondingly great. 
 In time of war, the Indians were constantly on the 
 watch for intruders; and often the slightest trace, 
 such as an unwary movement, or the print of a white 
 man's foot on the sand of a river, was followed by 
 discovery and attack. To give the Indians the least 
 advantage was to invite certain death ; for, when 
 once alarmed and prepared, nothing could surpass 
 the vigilance of the savage warriors, or the skill 
 with which they laid an ambush, and carried their 
 offensive plans into execution. 
 
 Attired in the full war dress of an Indian, and well 
 prepared to act the part of the skillful strategist, 
 Brady set out with his band early in the month of 
 May, 1780. The season was very wet, and every 
 stream was swollen to nearly twice its ordinary size. 
 The country afforded no houses for shelter, and no 
 roads or bridges for passage ; and, what added greatly 
 
208 THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 
 
 to the inconveniences of the march, the chart given 
 to Brady by General Broadhead was so defective 
 that the party several times lost their way. The 
 supplies which had been taken were inadequate, and 
 the adventurers were obliged to depend for support, 
 in great part, upon provisions picked up on the way, 
 while they crept, rather than marched, through the 
 wilderness by night, lying concealed in the branches 
 of trees by day. 
 
 After a journey of several days, the party arrived 
 in the neighborhood of the Sandusky towns without 
 seeing a single hostile Indian. Approaching the vil- 
 lages, Brady advanced with caution ; for he knew that 
 the savages were encamped in great force, and that 
 straggling parties were, therefore, to be met at almost 
 every turn. 
 
 While carefully making his way toward the Indian 
 encampment, Brady suddenly heard, a short distance 
 ahead of him, the sound of soft voices. Signaling 
 his men to halt, he went forward alone, rifle in hand, 
 to make observations. He soon perceived a faint, 
 glimmering light; and, advancing noiselessly toward 
 it, discovered two squaws sitting by the embers of a 
 camp-fire. Too brave to take advantage of the weak 
 and defenseless, he left them unharmed, and returned 
 as he came. 
 
 He found his comrades lying quietly where he had 
 left them; but, by their dark looks, and sharp, surly 
 answers, he judged that some unpleasant incident 
 had occurred. Concluding that they were dissatisfied 
 with something, and that they would soon make their 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 2OQ 
 
 troubles known, he did not think it prudent to ques- 
 tion them too closely ; and, sitting down unconcern- 
 edly, busied himself in putting his rifle in order. 
 This done, he commanded them to hand him their 
 powder-horns and pouches, in order that he might 
 divide the remaining powder and ball equally among 
 them. 
 
 Instead of obeying this command, the men looked 
 at each other for a moment in silence, and then, 
 grasping their rifles, flatly refused. Brady demanded 
 an explanation, when one of the soldiers, acting as 
 the spokesman of his comrades, asked him whether 
 he had seen or heard any thing of the Chickasaw 
 guides ; and told him, if he had not, that he would 
 probably see or hear of them shortly, and in a man- 
 ner not much to his liking. He then informed his 
 leader that, while he had been absent reconnoitering 
 the camp, the Indians had stolen away, taking with 
 them all of the remaining provisions. It was now 
 evident, he said, that the treacherous guides had 
 gone over to the enemy; and that, in the course of 
 a very short time, they would lead an overwhelming 
 force to the place of concealment, when death or 
 capture would be inevitable. He added, that the 
 only recourse of the party was to retire as rapidly 
 as the darkness of the night would permit ; and de- 
 clared that he and his comrades had resolved upon 
 immediate flight, whatever might be the determina- 
 tion of their leader. 
 
 When he had finished speaking, Brady very calmly 
 asked him what preparations had been made for the 
 
2TO THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 journey. For his part, he said, he was in a much 
 better plight to meet hostile Indians than to brave 
 starvation in the wilderness; and then, taking his 
 powder-horn from his belt, he handed it to one of 
 the men, requesting him to turn it upside down, 
 and see how much powder it contained. An ex- 
 amination proved that there was not a grain left; 
 and Brady informed his companions that the last 
 charge was in his rifle. But, he added, with an 
 oath, instead of keeping his last shot for defending 
 himself from the Indians, he would use it for main- 
 taining his authority; and, raising the gun to his 
 shoulder, he asked them whether they preferred that 
 he should discharge it at one of them, or that he 
 should wait until necessity demanded that he should 
 employ it for his own and their protection. 
 
 This signal instance of resolution on the part of 
 their leader put the men to confusion and shame: 
 and, signifying their acquiescence, they told him that 
 they were content, and would follow wherever he 
 might lead. Brady commended their devotion ; and, 
 selecting one man to accompany him, he concealed 
 the rest in a ravine which afforded good means of 
 protection from an attacking force, and then set out 
 toward the villages to accomplish the object of his 
 enterprise. He reached the river, waded it to a 
 small island opposite the town, and, hiding himself 
 with his comrade in some thick bushes, waited anx- 
 iously for morning. 
 
 The day dawned with a heavy fog which obscured 
 every thing but objects immediately at hand. It did 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 2 I I 
 
 not clear off until about noon, when the sun suddenly 
 came out very bright, revealing the whole position 
 of the enemy, which was so conspicuous and open 
 that the spies had every opportunity of making ob- 
 servations. 
 
 The Indians numbered about three thousand, and 
 had just returned from an expedition into Kentucky 
 or Virginia. They had captured a great many horses, 
 and were very gay and frolicsome, riding the ani- 
 mals at full speed over a long race course. The 
 antics of the Indians afforded Brady and his compan- 
 ion a great deal of amusement; and, from the good 
 humor in which they appeared to be, it was evident 
 that they had received as yet no information of the 
 presence of an enemy in the neighborhood, and con- 
 sequently that the Chickasaw guides had deserted 
 from some other motive than that of treachery. 
 
 Leaving the island in the evening, Brady waded 
 to the shore, and lost no time in rejoining his com- 
 panions. Before setting out on his return march, he 
 determined to make another visit to the camp which 
 he had observed the night before. Taking with him 
 two of his men, he approached it slowly and cau- 
 tiously. He found the two squaws still there ; and, 
 rushing suddenly toward them with his tomahawk 
 raised, he compelled them to surrender, bound them, 
 and, returning to his comrades, gave the word to 
 proceed. 
 
 As the Chickasaws had stolen all of the provisions, 
 the adventurers were reduced to great extremities 
 from hunger. Their ammunition was nearly ex- 
 
212 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 hausted, and they consequently could not spare much 
 for shooting at game. As Brady was the best marks- 
 man of the company, his comrades, by mutual con- 
 sent, left the hunting to him. He succeeded in kill- 
 ing an otter, but its flesh was so tough and unwhole- 
 some that it could not be eaten. For many days 
 they subsisted almost entirely on strawberries. Jour- % 
 neying on, they finally came to a country where neither 
 game nor fruit was to be found. The powder-horns 
 were by this time entirely empty, and there was only 
 one of the party whose gun was charged. By the 
 unanimous voice of the men, the loaded rifle was 
 given to Brady, and the forlorn march was resumed. 
 
 While casting their eyes around, looking for some 
 trace of game, Brady discovered, to his great joy, 
 the track of a deer. Leaving his companions, he 
 followed it, thinking, from its freshness, that he would 
 not have to go far before he should overtake the 
 animal. Suddenly he heard a slight noise in the 
 bushes, and a large rabbit crossed his path. He 
 might easily have killed it, and satisfied his own hun- 
 ger, but he knew that it would furnish but a poor 
 meal for his famished companions, and he therefore 
 permitted it to pass. Continuing to follow the track, 
 he soon came in sight of the deer. He raised his 
 rifle, and pulled the trigger; but, to his intense dis- 
 appointment, the powder flashed in the pan, and im- 
 mediately after the deer bounded off. 
 
 Brady now sat down and picked the touch-hole of 
 his gun. This done, he arose and started on, to pur- 
 sue the animal, and, if possible, get another shot; 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 213 
 
 but, before he had gone far, lie heard the tramp of 
 a horse, and the sound of voices, and, concealing 
 himself in the underwood, he soon discovered a party 
 of Indians approaching along the path. They were 
 led by a tall, powerful savage on horseback, who 
 carried a white child in his arms. A woman, evi- 
 dently the child's mother, sat behind him. The war- 
 riors, about ten in number, were all completely armed, 
 and were doubtless returning from some hostile ex- 
 pedition, for they had several scalps, and carried a 
 quantity of provisions. 
 
 Once more examining his rifle, Brady paused a 
 moment to deliberate ; and then, advancing to the 
 edge of the bushes, waited for the Indians to come 
 up. His purpose was to lie concealed until the 
 party had passed, shoot the hindmost savage, se- 
 cure his ammunition; and then, before the rest of 
 the warriors could recover from their surprise, make 
 off through the forest, and rejoin his comrades. But, 
 while he lay in wait for his enemies, carefully watch- 
 ing their movements, and studying the situation, he 
 discovered that the woman on horseback had been 
 most brutally used by her savage captors. Her face 
 was cruelly scratched, her dress was torn in shreds, 
 and one of her arms hung limp and powerless, evi- 
 dently from the effect of a blow. Brady's sympathies 
 were excited; and, forgetting his own danger in his 
 desire to alleviate the sufferings of a fellow-creature, 
 he resolved to use his best endeavors to' free the 
 captive. 
 
 When the Indian on horseback had come within a 
 13 
 
214 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 few rods, Brady leveled his rifle, and touched the 
 trigger, ready to shoot. He was about to let the 
 hammer fall, when the Indian, catching up the child, 
 which had dropped asleep, shook it violently, bid- 
 ding it to wake up. The agitation caused by this 
 act destroyed Brady's aim; and, before he could 
 take another, the horse had passed, and the form 
 of the woman was thrown between him and the 
 savage. Gliding silently from his hiding-place, he 
 ran swiftly ahead, and again concealed himself. As 
 he did so, one of the warriors, who was more alert 
 than his companions, suddenly stopped ; and, step- 
 ping cautiously to the bushes, carefully examined 
 them, in order to ascertain whether they contained 
 a lurking foe. He returned to his comrades appar- 
 ently satisfied, merely saying that he had heard a 
 rustling in the leaves, but that it was only a squirrel 
 or rabbit. 
 
 As his enemy approached, Brady again raised his 
 gun and took a careful aim. He fired, and the In- 
 dian dropped dead from the horse, the mother and 
 child falling with him. Instantly springing forward, 
 Brady uttered a terrible yell ; and to deceive the 
 warriors with regard to the strength of his party, 
 waved his tomahawk over his head and shouted to 
 his comrades to surround the enemy and take them 
 prisoners. The Indians were thrown into the direst 
 confusion, and, dashing their arms to the ground, 
 stood huddled together, waiting for the appearance 
 of their foe, and begging for quarter. In an instant 
 Brady had reached the fallen Indian. Seizing his 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 215 
 
 powder-horn, he tugged vigorously at it, but, in spite 
 of all his exertions, it would not come off. His next 
 care was to rescue the mother and child, but, as he 
 was dressed as an Indian, the former at first mis- 
 trusted his motive, and asked him reproachfully why 
 he had shot his brother. This inquiry he answered 
 by another yell to his men, exclaiming that he 
 was Captain Brady, and that he would rescue her if 
 she would follow him. He seized the woman's hand, 
 caught up the infant, and ran swiftly away. The 
 brief delay, caused by his efforts to detach the pow- 
 der-horn of the Indian, enabled the warriors to re- 
 cover, in a degree, from their confusion, and, picking 
 up their rifles, they fired a volley at the fugitive. 
 But, as most of the shots were discharged at random, 
 they fortunately had no effect, and Brady was soon 
 out of range. As the Indians dreaded an ambus- 
 cade, they did not pursue him ; and, making the best 
 of his escape, he arrived the next day with the woman 
 and child at Fort Mclntosh, a post some distance in 
 advance. Here he found his men, who, hearing his 
 whoop, and knowing that he had engaged a party of 
 Indians, had made off, fearful that, if they remained, 
 they would be massacred, for they had no ammuni- 
 tion, and were totally defenseless. Brady was far 
 from pleased at the conduct of his men, but his dis- 
 pleasure was increased to wrath when, inquiring for 
 the two squaws whom he had left with them, he was 
 told mat they had stolen off in the panic, and made 
 their escape. Thoroughly disgusted, Brady told 
 them that they were a lot of d d cowardly fellows, 
 
2l6 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 
 
 and tauntingly told them to remain where they were, 
 while he returned to Pittsburgh and dispatched a 
 guard to bring them home ; but, after awhile his 
 mood changed, and he begged their pardon for his 
 ungenerous language, giving them credit for their 
 faithfulness and bravery under trying circumstances, 
 arid assuring them that he would render a favorable 
 
 o 
 
 report of them to General Broadhead. 
 
 After resting for a few days at the fort, Brady re- 
 turned by water with his men to Pittsburgh. He was 
 received with military honor. Minute-guns were 
 fired from the time he came in sight until he landed, 
 and he was conducted to head-quarters by a military 
 escort. General Broadhead complimented him highly 
 on his success. He informed him that the Chicka- 
 saw Indians had returned to camp with the report that 
 the party had heen cut off, and every man murdered. 
 The General added that, on receiving this informa- 
 tion, he had done him great injustice, saying that 
 he was an aspiring young man, and had solicited 
 'the command; but he now made full reparation, 
 and acknowledged to his officers that the Captain 
 had accepted the commission with great diffidence. 
 
 About a week after Brady's return from Sandusky 
 intelligence v/as received that the Indians were gath- 
 ering at a point on the Alleghany River, with the in- 
 tention, as it was supposed, of marching against the 
 settlements on the Susquehanna. In order to obtain 
 definite information regarding their strength and pur- 
 poses, Brady was dispatched, with a companion named 
 Phouts, to reconnoiter their position, and, if possible, 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 217 
 
 
 
 bring in a prisoner. Setting- out about two hours 
 before daybreak, the two men took the road through 
 the wilderness, and, marching without stoppage, came, 
 toward the close of the next day, to a small creek, 
 where they determined to encamp for the night. 
 They halted and built a fire. Covering it with wet 
 leaves and brush, in order to keep it in, they took 
 their rifles and went out to hunt. In a short time 
 they came to the mouth of a run, on the banks of 
 which there was a lick apparently much frequented 
 by deer, and, placing themselves in readiness, they 
 waited patiently for the animals to come in to drink. 
 Their watchfulness was soon rewarded. In a few mo- 
 ments two deer came to the lick. One of them was shot 
 and quickly skinned and quartered. The flesh was 
 carried to the fire and "jerked," and in the morning 
 a sufficient quantity of the meat was shouldered, the 
 remainder was hung up on a tree, and the journey 
 was resumed. 
 
 Towards evening of the second day, Brady discov- 
 ered a number of crows hovering over the tops of the 
 trees near the bank of the river. Telling his com- 
 panion that he suspected that there were Indians in 
 the neighborhood, he halted to prepare for a recon- 
 noissance. 
 
 Although Phouts was anxious to go at once and 
 ascertain whether the conjecture was well-founded, 
 Brady restrained him, saying that such a step would 
 be very imprudent, and telling him that the best pol- 
 icy would be to hide themselves until dark, when, if 
 there were really Indians in the neighborhood, their 
 
2l8 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 position would be indicated by,their camp-fires. They 
 accordingly concealed themselves until about ten 
 o'clock, when they ventured from their hiding-places 
 to make observations. 
 
 Walking cautiously toward the river bank, they 
 soon discovered a twinkling light at the distance of a 
 few hundred yards. Whispering his companion to 
 remain where he was, Brady started towards it, but 
 Phouts instantly rejoined him, saying that it would 
 not be wise to part company, since, from' appearances, 
 the enemy was encamped in force. 
 
 Making their way with all care, Brady and Phouts 
 soon came close to the fire. Greatly to their sur- 
 prise they found it was the camp, not of a war-party, 
 but of a single old Indian, who was sitting beside a 
 tree mending a pair of moccasins. 
 
 At this discovery, Phouts, who thought more of 
 blood and scalps than of policy or consequences, gave 
 a low chuckle, and, raising his rifle, prepared to shoot. 
 Brady, perceiving his design just in time, seized him 
 by the throat and swore that, unless he desisted, he 
 would choke him to death instantly. He then made 
 a circuit of the camp, and, rejoining his comrade, set 
 out to return, motioning him to follow. Phouts 
 obeyed, though with great reluctance, for he was still 
 bent on murdering the old Indian. 
 
 When they had gone about a hundred yards from 
 the camp, Brady stopped and told his companion that 
 he judged that the fire had been made by a band of 
 Indians who had departed on some warlike expedi- 
 tion, leaving the old man in charge. He said that he 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 219 
 
 supposed they would come back soon, and, therefore, 
 that it would be best to lie concealed until morning. 
 If they did not return by that time the camp should 
 be visited again, and the old Indian disposed of. 
 
 They accordingly climbed a tree and waited for the 
 approach of day. When the first streak appeared in 
 the East they descended and went to the fire. The 
 old man was still there. He lay on his back fast 
 asleep. There was no trace to indicate that any of 
 the band had returned or were in the neighbor- 
 hood, for his only companions were a dog and a 
 horse. 
 
 Wishing to see the country around the camp, and 
 understand its features better, Brady made a quick 
 examination of it. He found, a short distance up 
 the river, a large trail, and, from its freshness, he 
 concluded that the Indians had gone up the Alle- 
 ghany a few days before on some warlike enterprise. 
 
 The two spies now returned to the camp. The 
 Indian was found, as before, lying on his back. 
 Phouts again raised his gun, but Brady again re- 
 strained him, saying that the old man should not be 
 harmed, since he would make a good prisoner. He 
 ordered his comrade to remain where he was, and 
 not to fire unless the Indian's dog should show fight, 
 in which case he was to shoot the dog. 
 
 When every thing was arranged, Brady dropped 
 his rifle, and, with his tomahawk lifted in the air, 
 crept toward the sleeping savage. Arrived within 
 a few feet, he made a sudden bound, and, with a 
 yell which echoed in the distance, grasped his enemy 
 
22O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 by the throat, at the same time planting his knee 
 firmly on his breast. Resistance was useless, and 
 the Indian quietly surrendered. His dog was equally 
 tractable, and Phouts came forward to bind the pris- 
 oner with a very woe-begone look, inwardly re- 
 proaching himself for not having followed his own 
 impulse, and shot the Indian where he lay. 
 
 When the savage was told that he was to be 
 taken to Pittsburgh, and would be kindly used, he 
 went to a clump of bushes and drew out a canoe. 
 The party then embarked, and paddled, without 
 stopping, until they came to the mouth of the creek 
 on which they had encamped the night before, when 
 they landed, made a fire, and lay down to sleep. 
 
 In the morning, Captain Brady, leaving the pris< 
 oner with Phouts, went up the creek, intending to 
 secure the pieces of jerked deer's meat which had 
 been left hanging on the trees. He had not been 
 gone five minutes when he heard a murderous yell, 
 followed instantly by the loud report of a rifle. His 
 first thought was, that his friend had been shot at, 
 and, perhaps, killed by some lurking savage ; and 
 he accordingly turned round and went back, de- 
 termined to wreak vengeance on the attacking 
 party. 
 
 Peering cautiously from behind the trees, Brady 
 saw, to his surprise and unspeakable disgust, that 
 his comrade had taken advantage of his absence to 
 shoot the prisoner, and was now sitting composedly 
 on his dead body. The Captain instantly came 
 from his hiding-place, and stalking up to the place 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 221 
 
 where he was sitting, asked him in language more 
 expressive than choice, what he had done. Phouts 
 looked up mildly, and, showing a hole in his bullet- 
 pouch belt, which had evidently been made by a rifle- 
 ball, said that he had just had a very narrow escape, 
 and then related the story of his adventure. 
 
 The old Indian had, during the voyage and through 
 the night, behaved himself with such decency and qui- 
 etude, and had appeared so perfectly harmless in dispo- 
 sition, that Phouts had given him his entire confidence, 
 and instead of growing more vigilant with each new 
 instance of the prisoner's extreme humility, had be- 
 come more and more disposed to extend him privi- 
 leges. The Indian had noticed the friendly and good- 
 natured disposition of his captor; and, craftily laying 
 his plans, he determined to take the first opportunity 
 of making it work to his advantage. 
 
 Immediately after Brady's departure, the savage, 
 heaving a deep sigh, complained bitterly of the pain 
 which he suffered from the tightness of the cords on 
 his wrists, and requested Phouts to loosen them, or, 
 if he would be so good, to take them off altogether 
 for a minute or two. This request was granted with 
 alacrity. The old man very gratefully returned his 
 thanks; and, sitting down on the ground, meekly 
 folded his hands, watching Phouts as he busied him- 
 self preparing breakfast. The latter kept an eye on 
 the prisoner for a few moments ; but, seeing that he 
 made no suspicious movements, and evidently had no 
 other feeling than that of the liveliest gratitude, he 
 did not regard it necessary to keep a constant watch, 
 
222 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 and so continued his work with very little concern for 
 any thing else. 
 
 While piling a heap of wood on the fire, Phouts 
 suddenly heard the sharp click of a rifle ; and wheel- 
 ing, as by instinct, he saw the innocent and humble 
 old Indian standing by a tree, with the gun raised 
 and pointed, ready to fire. Dodging to one side, 
 Phouts drew his tomahawk ; and, giving a loud 
 whoop, made a rush at his enemy. The savage 
 fired, and the ball passed through his assailant's 
 belt, doing no further harm. Instantly the white 
 man's tomahawk accomplished its work, and the In- 
 dian sank to the ground lifeless. 
 
 Taking the dead man's scalp, Brady and his com- 
 rade embarked, and resumed the voyage to Pitts- 
 burgh. They arrived safely; and the Captain, in- 
 forming the General of what he had done, advised 
 him of the departure of the warriors up the Alle- 
 ghany on their expedition against the Susquehanna 
 settlements. He favored dispatching a force to over- 
 take them ; his counsel was accepted, and a large 
 band was sent out forthwith. The enterprise was 
 successful, and the Indians were thwarted in their 
 design. 
 
 The success of Captain Brady in his scouting en- 
 terprises made his services very valuable, and he ,was 
 never detached to perform duty except on occasions 
 of the greatest moment. No particular region of 
 country was assigned him ; nevertheless, he was often 
 sent, especially at very dangerous times, to ex- 
 amine and re-examine ground which he had already 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 223 
 
 explored ; and the Indians, seeing that his visits had 
 in this way come to be almost periodical, carefully 
 studied his movements, determined to entrap him, if 
 possible. Two or three times, he came very near 
 being drawn into Indian ambuscades; and prob- 
 ably no m5n ever had so many hair-breadth escapes 
 from capture. 
 
 On one occasion, Captain Brady was dispatched 
 to examine a strip of country which, from the great 
 numbers and the savage character of the hostile 
 bands which occupied it, was regarded by General 
 Broadhead as peculiarly dangerous. Brady returned 
 from his mission with complete success ; and, as a 
 great deal depended upon keeping this dangerous 
 territory under constant watch, he was frequently 
 sent to it afterward. 
 
 One day, while marching through a thickly-wooded 
 and very rocky part of the country, along the banks 
 of the Beaver River, he struck, toward evening, a 
 fresh trail, evidently made a few hours before by a 
 large war-party. He followed it with all speed until 
 dark; and, starting betimes the next morning, he 
 had the good fortune to overtake the warriors while 
 they were seated around their fires eating breakfast. 
 
 Brady's party numbered five men. The strength 
 of the Indians was at least six times as great; but, 
 without the slightest hesitation, the brave leader of 
 the spies determined to attack them, and depend on 
 the courage of his men and the advantages of his posi- 
 tion for victory. He accordingly posted his comrades, 
 and, giving the signal of attack, fired. Instantly three 
 
224 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Indians dropped dead; and, in the midst of the con- 
 fusion which followed in the camp, the spies reversed 
 their guns, and prepared to reload for another volley. 
 
 Just as Brady was emptying the powder into the 
 muzzle of his gun, one of his men gave a quick 
 warning cry; and, before he had time to apprehend 
 its meaning, or give orders, a dozen rifles opened 
 fire from the rear on him and his companions. Two 
 of the rangers dropped lifeless, and Brady himself 
 narrowly escaped his tomahawk being shot from his 
 belt. The men who survived sprang to their feet, 
 and placed themselves on the defensive just in time 
 to see a band of savages emerge from cover in the 
 rear, and, with their tomahawks raised, advance at 
 full speed to attack them, and intercept their flight. 
 
 Captain Brady now realized the peril of his situa- 
 tion. It was evident that a trap had been laid for 
 him, and that he had been enticed to pursue the first 
 party in order that the second might pursue him ; 
 and, while he was laying his plans of attack, sur- 
 round his band, and so render capture or extermina- 
 tion inevitable. He was between two fires; and, as 
 he had every reason to believe, was completely hem- 
 med in on all sides. Resistance would have been 
 fool-hardy, for the most fearful odds were to be en- 
 countered. Flight seemed to be equally out of the 
 question, since the Indians were as eager to capture 
 the spies as they were to escape. Surrender could 
 not be entertained for a moment; for these brave 
 men could not endure the thought of captivity and 
 torture, regarding instant death as far preferable. 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 225 
 
 Without waiting a second to deliberate, Brady, car- 
 rying his empty rifle in his left hand, and flourishing 
 his knife in his right, dashed off in the direction of a 
 small creek which flowed through a chasm a short 
 distance beyond. Seeing his purpose, both bodies 
 of savages raised a shout of exultation, for they knew 
 that his capture was now as good as accomplished ; 
 since, on reaching the creek, he would be obliged to 
 turn round and look for some other avenue of escape, 
 as its bank was in no place less than twenty-five feet 
 in height, and as he could not, therefore, venture a 
 leap without, as they thought, certain death. Throw- 
 ing down their rifles, and brandishing their tomahawks, 
 the whole band started in hot pursuit, entirely disre- 
 garding, in their eagerness to secure their arch-foe, 
 Brady's three companions, who accordingly made 
 good their escape. 
 
 As Brady rushed forward, an Indian, who lay in 
 wait for him behind a tree, attempted to bar his 
 progress ; but a dexterous thrust from the knife of the 
 brave spy compelled him to give over his design, and 
 laid him bleeding on the ground. A few yards further 
 on, a second savage emerged from behind a tree, and 
 struck at the fugitive with his tomahawk; but, as 
 Brady had espied the fellow, he was prepared for him, 
 and easily .dodged the blow. Making straight for the 
 bank, he was not slow to comprehend that the inten- 
 tion of his enemies was to surround him while he 
 paused on the brink of the chasm, and there bring 
 him to bay ; and, determined that he would never be 
 made a captive by the Indians, he boldly resolved to 
 
THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 plunge directly over the bank, and trust to fortune for 
 the rest. Rushing forward with the greatest impetu- 
 osity, he reached the creek at the most precipitous 
 point of its bank; and, leaping without the slightest 
 hesitation, he cleared the stream, and was soon safe 
 on the opposite side. The Indians set up a cry of 
 mingled despair and admiration, but still continued 
 to flock to the bank. Without stopping to breathe, 
 Brady drew his ramrod, and commenced to charge 
 his rifle, determined, before seeking a place of safety, 
 to exchange a shot with his enemies. But, before he 
 had finished loading, a tall, powerful savage, who had 
 been foremost in the pursuit, appeared above. Know- 
 ing that he had Brady in his power, he deliberately 
 raised and aimed his rifle ; but in a moment he let the 
 muzzle fall, evidently hesitating to take so cowardly 
 an advantage. He raised it a second time, and a sec- 
 ond time hesitated, until finally, generous motives 
 prevailing over brutal instincts, he planted the stock 
 on the ground, and expressed his approval by exclaim- 
 ing, in a loud voice and tolerable English: "Blady 
 make good jump!" Immediately after, he turned 
 round and ran away, while Brady coolly finished load- 
 ing his piece, and then resumed his flight. Repairing 
 to a place which had been appointed as the rendez- 
 vous in case of separation, he found his three sur- 
 viving companions. The party at once took up the 
 homeward march, and arrived soon afterward safely 
 at Pittsburgh. 
 
 In this connection, the following tribute to the 
 bravery and daring of Captain Brady, and the repu- 
 
BKADY'S JUMP. 
 
OLD FRONTIER FORT. 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADV. 
 
 tation which he achieved by his remarkable perform- 
 ances, written by a well-known local historian, may be 
 of interest to our readers: 
 
 "Beaver Valley," he says, "was the scene of many 
 of Captain Brady's stirring adventures. We have 
 recently visited some of the interesting localities, cele- 
 brated as Brady's theater of action, and heard from 
 many of the old citizens their accounts of his thrilling 
 exploits. They speak in unbounded terms of admira- 
 tion of his daring and success; his many hair-breadth 
 escapes ' by field and flood ' ; and always concluded 
 by declaring that he was a greater man than Daniel 
 Boone or Lewis Weitzel, either of whom, in the eyes 
 of the old pioneers, was the very embodiment of dare- 
 devilism." 
 
 The following brief account of incidents in the life 
 of Captain Brady, while scouting in the Beaver Val- 
 ley, is by the same waiter: 
 
 " On one of their scouting expeditions into the 
 Indian country, the spies, consisting at that time of 
 sixteen men, encamped for the night at a place called 
 ' Big Shell Camp.' Toward morning, one of the 
 guard heard the report of a gun ; and, immediately 
 communicating the fact to his commander, a change 
 of position was ordered. Leading his men to an 
 elevated point, the Indian camp was discovered almost 
 beneath them. Cautiously advancing in the direction 
 of the camp, six Indians were discovered standing 
 around the fire, while others lay on the ground, ap- 
 parently asleep. Brady ordered his men to wrap 
 themselves in their blankets and lie down, while he 
 
230 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 kept watch. Two hours thus passed without any 
 thing material occurring. As day began to appear, 
 Brady roused his men, and posted them side by side, 
 himself at the end of the line. When all were in 
 readiness, the commander was to touch, with his 
 elbow, the man who stood next to him, and the com- 
 munication was to pass successively to the farthest 
 end. The orders then were, the moment the last 
 man was touched, he should fire, which was to be the 
 signal for a general discharge. With the first faint 
 ray of light, six Indians rose, and stood around the 
 fire. With breathless expectation the whites waited 
 for the remainder to rise; but failing, and apprehend- 
 ing a discovery, the Captain moved his elbow, and the 
 next instant the wild-wood rang with the shrill report 
 of the rifles of the spies. Five of the six Indians fell 
 dead; but the sixth, screened by a tree, escaped. 
 The camp being large, it was deemed unsafe to at- 
 tack it further, and a retreat was immediately ordered. 
 "Soon after the above occurrence, in returning 
 from a similar expedition, and when about two miles 
 from the mouth of Yellow Creek, at a place admira- 
 bly adapted for an ambuscade, a solitary Indian 
 stepped forward, and fired upon the advancing com- 
 pany. Instantly on firing, he retreated toward a deep 
 ravine, into which the savage hoped to lead his pur- 
 suers. Cut Brady detected the trick ; and, in a voice 
 of thunder, ordered his men to tree. No sooner had 
 this been done, than the concealed foe rushed forth 
 in great numbers, and opened upon the whites a per- 
 fect storm of leaden hail. The brave spies returned 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 23! 
 
 the fire with spirit and effect; but, as they were likely 
 to be overpowered by superior numbers, a retreat was 
 ordered to the top of the hill, and thence continued 
 until out of danger. 
 
 "The whites lost one man in this engagement and 
 two wounded. The Indian loss is supposed to have 
 been about twenty in killed and wounded." 
 
 With one more incident in the life of this truly re- 
 markable man, the present history will be brought to 
 a close. 
 
 While traveling, with four companions, through a 
 thick and gloomy wood in Western Pennsylvania, 
 Brady came one day to a deserted Indian camp. 
 Every appearance indicated that the savages had left 
 the spot only a few hours previous. The fire was still 
 burning, and the hind-quarters of a deer, which had 
 been killed not long before, were found lying in the 
 grass. Examining the ground carefully, Brady dis- 
 covered two trails, one of which led toward the fire, 
 and the other away from it. They had both been 
 made, evidently, by the same party of Indians, whose 
 numbers, Brady concluded, did not exceed five or six. 
 He determined to pursue, overtake, and attack them ; 
 but, as he and his comrades were very hungry, hav- 
 ing eaten nothing since the previous evening, h i 
 readily complied with the urgent requests of his men, 
 and ordered that the fire should be rekindled, and 
 the remains of the deer be cooked for their dinner. 
 In a few moments the spies were seated on the 
 ground, eagerly devouring the meat which the In- 
 dians had providentially left for them, 
 H - 
 
232 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Suddenly stopping, while in the midst of his meal, 
 Brady remarked to one of his comrades that he 
 began to suspect that the savages were too kind by 
 half, and had either poisoned the deer, or else left it 
 there with some design. He had no sooner spoken 
 than he saw the flash of a rifle from the branches of 
 a neighboring tree, and the next instant twenty or 
 thirty guns were heard to sound, all of them being 
 fired by Indians concealed in the tree-tops. Brady's 
 four companions dropped dead. He himself was un- 
 hurt, but he knew that his enemies had spared him 
 only to devote him to a more wretched and dreadful 
 death ; and, grasping his rifle, he instantly sprang to 
 his feet and bounded quickly off through the woods. 
 
 Although he ran with all the swiftness of a man 
 who knows that successful flight alone can save him 
 from unavoidable and horrible death, he soon saw 
 that the Indians had laid their plans of capture with 
 the greatest care. He had gone but a. few rods 
 when he saw, immediately in front of him, a party of 
 a dozen burly savages emerging from a thick covert, 
 and preparing to surround him. He changed his 
 course, but his enemies soon intercepted him ; and 
 before he had time to turn and choose another direc- 
 tion, the Indians in the rear, who had by this time 
 descended from the trees, came up, and closing 
 around, soon overpowered him, and obliged him to 
 surrender. 
 
 Binding their prisoner tightly with thick cords, the 
 Indians returned to the camp, scalped the four white 
 men, and then set out for their village. During the 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY, 233 
 
 march they shouted and screamed in exultation, but 
 did not beat or otherwise misuse their captive, since 
 they preferred to keep him sound and unharmed 
 until their friends could share in the enjoyment which 
 his torture would afford. He was watched vigilantly 
 at night, and each time he opened his eyes he was 
 greeted by a large Indian who stood over him, with 
 a prod and a savage declaration that, if he offered to 
 make a movement, his brains should instantly be 
 blown out. 
 
 Arriving, at length, at the Indian town, Brady was 
 exhibited by his captors to the inhabitants, who re- 
 ceived him with every demonstration of excessive 
 joy. When the first expressions of delight were over, 
 the warriors ranged themselves in two long rows, 
 and the prisoner was led forth to run the gauntlet. 
 The trial was brief, though very severe. He was 
 clubbed and thrashed so mercilessly that his flesh 
 was pounded to a jelly. His head was beaten almost 
 to a shapeless mass, and one cheek was laid open by 
 a cruel blow made by a sharp stick of wood. When 
 the gauntlet race was over, Brady was led to a stake, 
 around which a pile of fagots had been heaped, and 
 preparations were made for putting him to the 
 torture. 
 
 Before tying him to the stake the Indians, strip- 
 ping him naked, unloosed his hands, and placed him 
 near the pile. They then kindled a fire and drew 
 him directly up to it, in order, no doubt, that he 
 might have a foretaste of the torments which were to 
 follow ; and, while he stood in the blistering heat, 
 
234 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 they formed a circle and commenced to dance around 
 him. Every one in the village joined in this cere- 
 mony, and as they performed the dance, the warriors 
 gave utterance to the most fiendish threats and yells, 
 while the squaws and children, occasionally leaving 
 the circle, struck him with clubs and switches, and 
 endeavored to push him over into the fire. 
 
 During these ceremonies, Brady stood calm and 
 motionless, meeting every threat and blow of his tor- 
 mentors with a fearless eye and an unyielding reso- 
 lution. He knew his fate was sealed, but he deter- 
 mined to die like a brave man, and, if need be, resist 
 savage cruelty with savage fortitude. 
 
 While the dance was at its height, and the yells of 
 the Indians were loudest and most fearful, a woman, 
 whom Brady knew to be the squaw of one of the 
 chiefs, seized a ponderous war-club, left the circle, 
 and advanced toward the prisoner. She carried a 
 young child on her arm, which, as soon as its mother 
 came within the intense heat of the fire, set up a 
 piercing cry. As the woman came nearer, a terrible 
 thought suddenly flashed across Brady's mind, and 
 he made an instinctive movement, but, recovering 
 himself, he once more stood quiet, and received the 
 blow, which she dealt him, without relaxing a muscle. 
 The squaw rejoined the circle, and the company 
 danced around the captive with still greater fury. 
 
 A moment afterward the woman again left her 
 companions, and, still carrying the child, advanced 
 to give Brady another blow. Indignation and re- 
 sentment were now so strongly aroused in the un- 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 235 
 
 fortunate prisoner, that they held uncontrolled sway, 
 and, the moment that the club was raised, he 
 pounced upon his tormentor, seized her by the 
 throat, and, tearing the child from her arms, quickly 
 threw it into the flames. At this action the Indians, 
 horror-stricken, suddenly stopped, and each person 
 in the crowd, starting forward, as by one thought, 
 ran to the rescue. Anticipating this confusion, Brady 
 was not slow in taking advantage of it. He instantly 
 darted through the circle, overturning all that stood 
 in his way, and, running with the utmost fleetness, 
 made for the adjoining wood. A host of Indians gave 
 chase, but, finding the fugitive too fleet, all but a 
 few stopped, and sent a shower f bullets after him. 
 The remainder continued the pursuit, but Brady dis- 
 tanced them all, and, when out of sight, concealed 
 himself among some laurel bushes in a deep ravine. 
 He remained in his hiding-place until night of the 
 next day, when he ventured forth and resumed his 
 flight. As he was familiar with every part of the 
 country, he succeeded in making his way to the set- 
 tlements, and, obtaining some clothing at a farm- 
 house, set out for Pittsburgh, where he arrived after 
 five days' journey. 
 
JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 
 
 pAPTAIN JOHN BRADY, as we have stated in 
 \J the preceding narrative, lived at Shippensburg, 
 Pennsylvania, where his two sons, Samuel afterward 
 the noted Captain of the Rangers and James were 
 born. In i 768, he removed, with his family, to North- 
 umberland County. Here he remained for a few 
 years, and then settled, with a number of other pion- 
 eers, in a region on the West Branch of the Susque- 
 hanna, which had been obtained by purchase from 
 the Indians at the close of the French and Indian 
 War. At this place he lived until 1776, when he 
 accepted a captaincy in the I2th Pennsylvania Regi- 
 ment, and, with his son James, took the field for 
 active service. Both father and son were severely 
 wounded in the battle of Brandywine, and being una- 
 ble to perform duty, were permitted to return home. 
 
 In order to defend the surrounding country from 
 the Indians, who, toward the beginning of the Revo- 
 lution, grew very aggressive, Fort Augusta had been 
 erected on the river, a few miles from the settlement 
 in which Captain Brady lived. This Fort was garri- 
 soned by about fifty men, under the command of 
 Major Hunter, a meritorious officer. 
 
 Previous to his departure for the wars, Captain 
 
JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 237 
 
 John Brady had rendered very effective service to his 
 brother settlers as one of the most intrepid of the 
 soldiers stationed at the fort. On one occasion he 
 was selected as a commissioner to effect a treaty with 
 the Seneca and Muncie Indians. He visited the vil- 
 lages of these tribes, and was received by the warri- 
 ors in a friendly manner ; but, not being able to 
 arrive at satisfactory terms, he requested them to 
 come to the fort, saying that conclusions could be 
 reached better on a second interview. The savages 
 accepted his invitation, and a few days later paid 
 the whites a visit. 
 
 As it was customary to give the Indians presents 
 on occasions of this kind, the warriors came ex- 
 pecting gifts. The whites were, however, too poor 
 to bestow any thing of value, and the Indians there- 
 fore stubbornly refused to treat. But, though they 
 would not consent to enter into an alliance, they 
 left the fort in apparent good humor, assuring the 
 garrison that they had no hostile intentions, but, on 
 the contrary, earnestly desired to live in peace. Im- 
 mediately after their departure, Major Hunter sum- 
 moned his officers, in order to consult with them upon 
 the plan which should be pursued ; for, although he 
 did not suspect the warriors of want of faith, he 
 knew that the country was menaced by a large war- 
 party of the Delawares, and he feared that other 
 tribes might be induced to j'oin the hostile expedition. 
 
 At the instance of Captain Brady, Hunter deter- 
 mined to send detachments of soldiers to the points 
 which v/ere most exposed, and to dispatch messen- 
 
238 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 g-ers to all the neighboring settlements for the pur- 
 pose of informing the inhabitants of the state of 
 affairs, and advising them to arm; and the various 
 parties accordingly set out. Late in the day, Brady 
 remembered that one important post, a trading-sta- 
 tion, occupied by a Dutchman named Derr, had been 
 forgotten, and, mounting a horse, he set out himself 
 to carry the information. 
 
 As he approached his destination, Brady saw the 
 canoes of the Indians moving backward and forward 
 over the stream, at a point near the station. Coming 
 nearer, he discovered that the boats were paddled by 
 squaws, who were using their utmost endeavors. 
 Making his way as cautiously as possible, he reached 
 the bank without being perceived, and, from his point 
 of observation, he saw that the women on the oppo- 
 site side were busy in loading the canoes with the 
 rifles, tomahawks, knives, and private effects of the 
 warriors, and that, on landing, the women who rowed 
 the boats carried the freight into the bushes and 
 concealed it. 
 
 Guessing that something was wrong, Brady tied his 
 horse, and, watching his opportunity, jumped into a 
 canoe, and rowed swiftly across to the station. En- 
 tering the yard, he saw the whole party of Indians 
 stretched on the ground, brutally drunk. A barrel 
 of rum, about half empty, was standing near the door, 
 while the proprietor, Frederick Derr, sat in a chair, 
 smoking his pipe, as if nothing had happened. Goino 
 angrily up to Derr, Brady demanded what he meant 
 by permitting the Indians to conduct themselves in so 
 
JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 239 
 
 beastly a manner. The Dutchman replied, that the 
 savages had come to his trading-house with the com- 
 plaint that the soldiers at the fort had given them no 
 treat; and with the threat that, unless he gave them 
 liquor, they would break open his establishment and 
 obtain it by force. He had accordingly complied with 
 their demand, and rolled out a barrel of rum, telling 
 his unceremonious guests to help themselves. 
 
 While Derr was speaking, one of the drunken In- 
 dians rose from the ground ; and, staggering toward 
 the door, was about to dip a vessel into the rum, when 
 Brady interfered, and, overturning the barrel, spilled 
 its contents. The Indian, though too much intoxi- 
 cated to prevent the action, resented it savagely ; and, 
 eying Brady fiercely for a moment, told him that he 
 should one day regret what he had done. Repeating 
 his threat with still greater fury, he threw himself 
 once more on the ground, while Brady, after exchang- 
 ing a few words with Derr, took his departure, crossed 
 the river, and returned to the fort. 
 
 Captain Brady was too well acquainted with the 
 Indian character not to know that the spirit of re- 
 venge, when once aroused in the heart of the sav- 
 age, can be extinguished by death alone. He was, 
 therefore, conscious that the threat of the Indian was 
 not an idle one; but that, if he ever had it in his 
 power, he would punish the offense by taking the life 
 of the offender. For several years afterward, Brady 
 accordingly kept constantly on his guard ; but, as he 
 was not attacked, he finally concluded that his enemy 
 had forgotten the occurrence, and that, if they ever 
 
THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 chanced to meet, the savage would not recognize 
 him, or else would let him pass. How correct he 
 was in this conclusion, our readers shall presently 
 hear. 
 
 On the return of John Brady from the army, after 
 the battle of Brandy wine, he was given the command 
 of a fort which had been built at the mouth of Muncie 
 Creek, near the place where Pennsboro' now stands. 
 This command he had held for a few months previous 
 to his departure for the regular service; and his re- 
 instatement was, therefore, a matter of course. 
 
 James Brady, the second son of Captain John Brady, 
 accompanying his father home from camp, was given 
 by him an important position at the fort. Though 
 under twenty years, he possessed uncommon strength 
 and bodily skill, having, indeed, very few equals among 
 the grown men of the neighborhood. His ambition 
 was to become some day an accomplished soldier, and, 
 above all, to gain distinction as an Indian fighter; and 
 he was never so well pleased as when he was chosen 
 to bear a part in some daring enterprise. He had 
 conducted himself with no small credit during his brief 
 experience with the army, and had received a painful 
 wound in the right leg at the battle of Brandywine. 
 Soon after his return, his brother Samuel, at that time 
 on his way with General Broadhead to Pittsburgh, paid 
 a visit to his home; and James, emulous of following 
 his example, and of deserving a reward of merit simi- 
 lar to that which had been conferred on him, deter- 
 mined that, as soon as his wound healed, he would 
 once more enlist in the volunteer service. 
 
JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 241 
 
 In a short time he recovered his health and strength ; 
 and, informing his father of his intentions, set about to 
 accomplish his purpose. But, as no demand for fresh 
 troops had been made for some time on the settle- 
 ments, he was obliged to wait until a body of men 
 could be organized large enough to compose a respect- 
 able volunteer force. 
 
 While lying inactive at the fort, impatient of the 
 restraint under which he was placed, he was one day 
 informed by a companion that a party of men was 
 being organized for the purpose of assisting a farmer 
 near the mouth of Loyalsack Creek, a short distance 
 up the river, in cradling his field of oats. He imme- 
 diately signified his willingness to join the company ; 
 and, his proffer being accepted, he set out with the 
 men, numbering altogether about twenty, for the field. 
 
 In accordance with a custom prevalent in those 
 days, the men who composed the party, before set- 
 ting out, proceeded to choose a captain. As there 
 was no commissioned officer present, the choice de- 
 volved on the bravest and most competent man ; and, 
 by the unanimous consent of his companions, James 
 Brady was selected to lead the company. 
 
 Arriving on the ground, the rifles were placed in a 
 pile at one end of the field, and two men were sta- 
 tioned at opposite sides. It was agreed that, in case 
 of a surprise by the Indians, the men were to. leave 
 their work, run to the place where the rifles had been 
 laid, and then await the orders of their leader. 
 
 With this understanding, the harvesters set to work 
 with a will. The first day passed without incident; 
 
242 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 but during the night a strict watch was kept. On the 
 second day the harvesting was resumed, and nearly 
 completed. The laborers were about to leave their 
 work for the day, when one of the sentinels gave a 
 shrill cry, and shouted "Indians." Immediately two 
 shots were fired from the bushes, but both without 
 effect ; for the man, taking to instant flight, succeeded 
 in making his escape. 
 
 Without waiting to rally his companions, whom he 
 supposed to be no less eager than he himself to re- 
 sist the attack, Brady, on hearing the alarm, ran with 
 all possible speed for his rifle. He had nearly reached 
 the guns, when, casting a glance over his shoulder, he 
 saw a band of Indians, headed by a white man, in hot 
 pursuit. The instant that he turned, the leader of the 
 party fired at him with a pistol ; but, just as the trig- 
 ger was pulled, Brady accidentally fell over a sheaf 
 of oats, and the ball missed him. He dropped within 
 reach of the rifles; and, as the Indians (who supposed 
 him to have been killed) rushed forward to take his 
 scalp, he grasped a gun, and, aiming it at the first sav- 
 age who approached, fired, and laid him dead on the 
 ground. Throwing the smoking rifle aside, he seized 
 a second piece, and discharged it at the next Indian 
 with equal effect. 
 
 To his utter despair and terror, the brave young 
 captain now perceived that he was left to contend, 
 single-handed and alone, with a host of enemies ; for 
 his comrades, instead of repairing to the appointed 
 place, had incontinently fled. But, though he knew 
 that speedy death would be the inevitable conse- 
 
JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 243 
 
 quence of continued resistance, he determined to die 
 rather than surrender, and, grasping a third rifle, he 
 prepared to die gallantly. 
 
 At the fall of the second Indian, the rest of the 
 band, seeing the resolution and heroism of the young 
 captain, wavered for a moment, uncertain whether to 
 close around him and take him prisoner by the force 
 of numbers, or to prevent him from doing further 
 mischief by shooting him on the spot. They were 
 not left to debate long; for Brady, raising his piece 
 without a second's hesitation, discharged it into their 
 midst, and a third savage fell bleeding and helpless. 
 
 With a yell of mortification and fury, the Indians 
 now sprang forward in a body; and, closing around 
 Brady as he was about to cock the fourth rifle, pro- 
 ceeded to overcome him by superior force. Brady 
 resisted stoutly. He first attempted to club down 
 his opponents with his gun, but the weapon was in- 
 stantly wrenched from his hands. He then struggled 
 violently, hoping to force his way through the crowd ; 
 and he so enraged his enemies by the obstinacy of 
 his resistance, that one of them finally drew a toma- 
 hawk, and struck him a stunning blow, felling him to 
 the ground. The scalp was then torn from his head, 
 and the Indians left him lying in apparent death. 
 
 Although, to all appearance, there was not a spark 
 of life in Brady's body after he had received the blow 
 from the tomahawk, and while the scalp was being 
 plucked from his head, he was, nevertheless, perfectly 
 sensible. He was so powerless that he could not 
 move a limb, but he felt and suffered as keenly as if 
 
244 T ttE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 he possessed entire control of all his bodily energies. 
 No words can tell the agony which he endured while 
 he lay beneath the knife of the Indian, suffering every 
 torment of life and death. So fully did he retain his 
 senses, that he was able to see the scalp after it was 
 taken from him, and to distinguish the words of exul- 
 tation uttered by the Indians, who regarded it as a 
 trophy, on account of its long and luxuriant growth 
 of hair. 
 
 Leaving their victim, the savages made off across 
 the field. But they had not gone far when they 
 turned and came back to secure the guns which still 
 lay where the whites had placed them. Casting a 
 glance at Brady, one of the savages told his com- 
 panions that he still showed signs of life ; and an 
 Indian youth was accordingly ordered to dispatch 
 him. The boy seized one of the large tomahawks 
 of the warriors, and, uttering the Indian war-whoop, 
 struck it into Brady's head in four separate places. 
 Satisfied at length of the death of their enemy, the 
 warriors picked up the rifles and once more took 
 their departure. 
 
 In the course of about half an hour young Brady 
 revived, and, creeping on hands and knees, made a 
 shift to reach a small cabin, occupied by an old man 
 who had been employed to cook for the working 
 party. Twice, in the course of his painful progress, 
 he fell to the ground, fainting from loss of blood, but 
 he finally succeeded in his attempt ; and, arriving at 
 the door of the hut, called to its owner for assist- 
 ance. The old man, on hearing the report of the 
 
JOHN ANft JAMES BRADY. 
 
 guns, had concealed himself, but, recognizing Brady's 
 voice, he now left his hiding-place and came to him. 
 
 Informing the man of the strength of the Indians, 
 Brady begged him to fly to the fort, saying that the 
 red-skins would soon be back and would kill him. 
 This request was disregarded ; and, as remonstrance 
 proved useless, Brady desired the old man to carry 
 him to the river. He gladly complied, and laying the 
 youth down on the bank, brought him water in his 
 hat, which he drank in large quantities. Brady still 
 entreated his friend to fly and save himself, but he still 
 refused. He then requested him to load the gun in 
 the cabin and bring it to him. This was done, and, 
 taking the rifle in his hands, Brady turned on his side 
 and sank, apparently, into deep sleep. 
 
 Suddenly a noise was heard in the wood behind, 
 and the young captain, instantly aroused, sprang to 
 his feet, and, ordering his companion to conceal him- 
 self in the bushes, stood guard. In a moment a 
 horseman emerged from the trees, and soon after a 
 troop of mounted men appeared. Conjecturing that 
 the horsemen were soldiers who had been sent in 
 pursuit of the Indians, Brady called to them. They 
 came to him, and, after hearing his story, quickly con- 
 structed a rude litter, and, stretching him on it, bore 
 him as rapidly as possible to the fort. 
 
 For four days after his return, the young captain 
 lay insensible and delirious. On the fifth day he re- 
 covered his senses, and, calling his father to him, 
 related, with the greatest minuteness, every inci- 
 dent connected with his remarkable adventure. To- 
 
246 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ward evening he died, deeply regretted by all within 
 the fort, as well as by every one in the settlements. 
 
 In his description of the Indian attack, Brady 
 stated that the savages were of the Seneca tribe, 
 and were led by a warrior whom he personally knew 
 to be the celebrated chief Bald Eagle, from whom 
 certain creeks and a high ridge, so-called, derive 
 their name. Another Indian was known by Brady's 
 description to be the chief Corn-planter. Both of 
 these warriors were among the most famous of the 
 Indian braves; and vengeance, "not loud but deep," 
 was breathed against them. 
 
 It may interest our readers to know that, a few 
 years after this occurrence, the death of James Brady 
 was bloodily avenged by his brother Samuel, the 
 captain of the Rangers. To retaliate on the Indians 
 for some of their depredations, a large force was led 
 against them by General Broadhead in person. The 
 command of the advance guard was intrusted to Sam- 
 uel Brady. At a point on the Alleghany River, 
 which has since been named Brady's Bend, a large 
 war-party of the Senecas was encountered. An en- 
 gagement followed, and during the battle, Captain 
 Brady recognized the chief, Bald Eagle, leading a 
 band of warriors through a narrow pass. He fired, 
 but did not know the result of his shot until after- 
 ward, when, going to the spot, he found the Eagle's 
 dead body. A ball had pierced the Indian's heart; 
 and the blood of the brave young captain of Loyal- 
 sack was fatally and righteously avenged. 
 
JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 247 
 
 The murder of young James Brady, by the Indi- 
 ans, occurred on the Qth day of August, 1778. For 
 a short time afterward the settlements enjoyed com- 
 parative quiet; but, in the following spring, war 
 broke out along the entire frontier line; and, in order 
 to render the country secure, it was found necessary 
 to garrison the forts with increased forces of brave 
 and active men. 
 
 The post of which Captain John Brady had the 
 command was situated in a part of the country 
 which was much exposed to attack. At his urgent 
 request a body of troops was sent from one of the 
 forts above to increase the garrison ; and, on the 
 arrival of this company, Captain Brady felt assured 
 that, with the assistance of the neighboring settlers, 
 the force under his command was fully adequate to 
 the protection of the strip of country which he was 
 required to guard. 
 
 Before many weeks had passed, the supplies of the 
 garrison ran short, and Captain Brady, mounting his 
 horse, and taking with him a wagon, team, and guard, 
 started out, on the iith day of April, 1779, toward 
 Fort Augusta, to obtain additional quantities. Hav- 
 ing loaded his wagon with all that could be had, he 
 set out, early in the afternoon, to return. The wagon, 
 surrounded by a guard of six men, took the lead, 
 and the captain followed at some distance, accom- 
 panied by a comrade named Peter Smith. 
 
 When they arrived within a mile or two of the fort, 
 the road forked, and the wagon, still keeping the lead, 
 
 followed the direct course. Captain Brady, however, 
 15 
 
248 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 turned his horse into the other path, remarking to his 
 companion, as he did so, that the way, was shorter, 
 and that, though the road was not so much frequented, 
 he had very little fear of Indians. 
 
 Conversing on various subjects, Brady and Smith 
 journeyed on leisurely until they came to a small run, 
 near the place where the two roads joined, a short 
 distance below the fort. Just before reaching this 
 point, the conversation had taken a mournful turn. 
 Captain Brady referred in terms of the deepest mel- 
 ancholy to the death of his son James ; and, speaking 
 of the brutality and villainy of the Indians, he de- 
 scribed the incident which had occurred several years 
 before at Derr's Station, where the drunken Indian 
 had sworn vengeance. He said that he had long 
 given up all fear of again meeting the savage, but 
 that, should he chance to encounter him, he would 
 have no difficulty in recognizing him on account of a 
 deep scar on his cheek. 
 
 Crossing the run, Brady, stopping his horse for a 
 'moment, glanced to the side of the road, and re- 
 marked to his companion that the wildness of the 
 place would be very favorable to. an Indian attack. 
 Smith answered "Yes," and the captain again started 
 his horse. The animal had, however, made scarcely 
 half a dozen steps, when three rifles were suddenly 
 heard in quick succession. One of the balls grazed 
 Smith's forehead ; another hit his horse, which in- 
 stantly fell with its rider. The third struck Captain 
 Brady, who, relaxing his hold of the bridle, dropped 
 lifeless in the road. 
 
JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 249 
 
 Disentangling himself from his fallen horse, Smith 
 rose, and springing on Brady's steed, which came 
 dashing past at that moment, he rode swiftly away. 
 When at the distance of a few yards, he turned round 
 and saw that two of the Indians were standing by the 
 side of the road, reloading their guns, evidently with 
 the hope of getting another shot at him. The third 
 was standing over the dead captain, holding a bloody 
 scalp in his hand. Although he had but a moment's 
 glance, Smith saw that this Indian answered the de- 
 scription which Brady had given of the one who had 
 threatened his life ; for he could plainly see that he 
 had a long and very prominent scar on his right cheek. 
 
 Pursuing his flight, Smith arrived, in a few minutes, 
 at the fort. He was met by a throng of people, fore- 
 most among whom was the dead man's wife. In 
 reply to the anxious inquiries for Captain Brady, 
 Smith said that he was "in heaven or hell, or else 
 on the way to Tioga," meaning that he was either 
 dead or a prisoner; and added, that all who' were in- 
 quisitive might go and ascertain for themselves. 
 
 The men composing the garrison ran to the spot. 
 The wagon-guard, who had also been attracted by 
 the firing-, were found lifting the dead body from the 
 ground. The captain's scalp was taken off, and his 
 rifle was gone; but the Indians had not mutilated his 
 body, and they had evidently neglected to search his 
 pockets, for his watch and valuables were found un- 
 disturbed. 
 
 Thus died Captain John Brady, the victim of a ma- 
 lignant Indian's revenge. The intelligence of his 
 
250 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 death was carried to his son, Captain Samuel Brady, 
 at Pittsburgh, who immediately took a solemn oath 
 that he would consecrate the remainder of his life to 
 avenging the blood of his father and his brave young 
 brother. How well this oath was kept, we have 
 already seen. Few names are more celebrated in 
 the early annals of Western Pennsylvania than that 
 of Brady ; and to this day it is spoken with the great- 
 est admiration and enthusiasm by the old settlers. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 
 
 name and fame of Lewis Weitzel, the re- 
 1 nowned and intrepid warrior and hunter, are 
 inseparably connected with the history of early civili- 
 zation in the West. Between the years 1782 and 
 1795, this bold adventurer was to the settlers of 
 Virginia what Boone and Kenton had been to those 
 of Kentucky, and Brady to those of Western Penn- 
 sylvania. At the present day, the story of his ex- 
 ploits reatls like the most extravagant romance ; and 
 it seems scarcely credible that any man could have 
 been endowed with physical powers capable of ac- 
 complishing the extraordinary feats which have been 
 ascribed to him. Certain it is, he had no equal 
 among the pioneers of his part of the country; and, 
 for his wonderful success as a spy, hunter, and woods- 
 man, was, for upward of twelve years, regarded by 
 the settlers as their right arm of defense. 
 
 The father of Lewis was John Weitzel, one of 
 the first settlers of Wheeling Creek, West Virginia, 
 His family consisted of five sons and two daugb 
 ters, named respectively : Martin, Lewis, Jacob, John, 
 George, Susan, and Christina. The first four of the 
 sons lived to maturity; and all became famous as 
 bold frontiersmen and as Indian hunters of the most 
 
252 THE BACK- WOODSMEN. 
 
 unrivaled courage, enterprise, and audacity. The 
 astonishing adventures of Lewis threw the exploits 
 of his brothers into the shade ; but some of the per- 
 formances of Martin, Jacob, and John are very re- 
 markable, and well worthy of record. 
 
 John Weitzel, the father of the boys, was one of 
 the boldest and most enterprising of the early pio- 
 neers. He was a man absolutely without fear; and 
 in all of the Indian wars, up to the time of his death, 
 bore a part of great distinction and usefulness, never 
 returning from an expedition without bringing some 
 token of his prowess. He spent a great deal of his 
 time in locating lands, hunting, and fishing; and, 
 though his neighbors frequently entreated him to 
 leave his dangerous occupation, and to cease to ex- 
 pose himself so recklessly to attack, he disregarded 
 all of their admonitions, saying that a brave man 
 disdains to employ the precautionary methods of the 
 timorous. His courage, however, was greater than 
 his prudence, as will be shown in its proper place. 
 
 Settling at Wheeling Creek, Mr. Weitzel rashly 
 built his cabin at some distance from the fort, and 
 moved his family into it. He was several times 
 urged by his friends to leave his isolated situation, 
 and come within cover of the palisades; but he re- 
 fused to comply, until one day a sweeping calamity 
 forcibly represented to him the extreme folly of his 
 conduct, carrying with it, at the same time, the most 
 terrible consequences of delay and neglect. 
 
 On the afternoon of a fine midsummer day of the 
 year 1774, John Weitzel took his nets and rifle, arid, 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 
 
 launching his canoe, started for a fishing and hunting 
 excursion up the river. He was accompanied by his 
 eldest son Martin, a stout and active youth of sev- 
 enteen. The rest of the family were left at the cabin 
 under the charge of Lewis, at that time about thir- 
 teen years old. 
 
 Soon after his departure, Mrs. Weitzel called her 
 boy John, and sent him on an errand to the fort, bid- 
 ding him to return quickly. As the Indians had not 
 been very turbulent in the immediate neighborhood 
 for some months, and as it was still broad daylight, 
 she did not feel any uneasiness for her family's safety; 
 but, knowing that her husband intended to be away 
 during the night, she determined to take every neces- 
 sary precaution against the evening; and, motioning 
 to Lewis, who was in the yard chopping wood, she 
 ordered him to take the three rifles from the chimney- 
 piece, and load them carefully. Lewis obeyed ; and, 
 standing two of the guns by the door, took the third 
 and stepped out of the house to practice shooting at 
 the target. 
 
 Holding the gun in his hand, the lad stopped for a 
 moment on the threshold to watch his brother Jacob, 
 who was playing in the grass. Hearing a slight noise, 
 he suddenly lifted his eyes, and, looking in the direc- 
 tion from which it seemed to proceed, he saw the 
 muzzle of a gun protruding from behind a tree. He 
 instantly jumped to one side ; but, before he had time 
 to save himself, the rifle was discharged, and a bullet 
 struck him on the breast-bone. By the greatest good 
 fortune, it did not have a fatal effect, It carried away. 
 
254 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 however, a piece of the bone, and made a fearful gash 
 athwart the chest, producing a severely painful wound. 
 
 Instantly after the report of the rifle, the woods rang 
 with a hideous yell, and before Lewis had time to re- 
 cover his gun, which had dropped from his grasp, two 
 large Indian warriors sprang forward with uplifce.l 
 tomahawks. While one of them secured the -two 
 youths, the other entered the house; and, knocking 
 aside a rifle which Mrs. Weitzel was about to aim at 
 his breast, raised his weapon, and quickly severed her 
 head from her body. He then tomahawked her aged 
 father and her three young children ; and, rejoining 
 his companions, seized Lewis by the hand, and led 
 him and his brother Jacob into the wood. 
 
 For two days the Indians traveled with all speed 
 through the wilderness. On the morning of the sec- 
 ond day, they reached the Ohio, and, crossing it near 
 the mouth of McMahan's Creek, continued their 
 march, reaching the Big Lick, about twenty miles 
 from the river, toward evening. Although young 
 Weitzel's wound pained him terribly, he conducted 
 himself with exemplary courage, making no complaint, 
 and cheering on his younger brother, telling him that, 
 if he made good speed, the Indians would treat him 
 well ; but that the moment he lagged they would kill 
 and scalp him without mercy. 
 
 On the evening of this day the Indians encamped, 
 and lay down with their prisoners. But, contrary to 
 custom, they neglected to bind the captives ; and they 
 were no sooner asleep than Lewis, taking advantage 
 of this singular omission, stirred his brother, and, tell- 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS \YEITZEL. 257 
 
 ing him to preserve the most studied silence, took his 
 hand, and led him gently away. The savages did not 
 move, and the two boys soon reached a safe distance. 
 They were making off at the height of their speed> 
 when Lewis suddenly stopped, and informed his 
 brother that they had forgotten their moccasirts. He 
 told him to wait while he returned to secure them; 
 Going back to the camp, the brave lad found the In- 
 dians still asleep, and, snatching up the moccasins, 
 once more turned to fly. He was unperceived> and 
 soon rejoined his brother. The moccasins were fitted 
 on, when Lewis, again telling his brother to remain 
 quietly where he was, once more went back to the 
 camp. His purpose this time was to secure a rifle; 
 for he knew the Indians had three, since they had 
 taken one from his father's house. He readily pro- 
 cured the weapon, and, as the savages did n'ot move, 
 succeeded a third time in making his escape. Flying 
 through the thick woods, the boys soon came to the 
 path which they had followed the day before, and, 
 traveling briskly, they were in a short time well on 
 their way. 
 
 Toward morning, Lewis, who had kept constantly 
 on the alert for his pursuers, heard a crashing noise 
 at some distance behind. Seizing his brother by the 
 arm, he whispered to him to steal cautiously into the 
 bushes. Jacob obeyed, and Lewis followed quickly 
 after him, covering up their tracks, as he did so, with 
 some dry leaves. A moment later, the Indians came 
 rushing along the path at a furious rate, muttering 
 volleys of savage oaths. When they had passed, 
 
258 THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 
 
 Lewis touched his brother's arm, and, taking the 
 trail, continued the journey. Before long, they heard 
 the savages returning, and they again stepped aside, 
 once more eluding capture. A short time before day- 
 break, they were followed by two Indians on horse- 
 back ; but, resorting to a similar expedient, the boys 
 deceived their captors for the third time. During the 
 day, they journeyed without seeing or hearing any 
 thing of their enemies ; and, reaching the Ohio about 
 noon, they lashed two logs firmly together, and 
 crossed. They soon made their way to a settle- 
 ment, and, in the course of another day, were re- 
 stored to their friends. 
 
 The success of young Weitzel in this very remarka- 
 ble adventure gained for him a great deal of applause 
 among the settlers. All were agreed in saying that 
 his pluck and heroism were something quite extraor- 
 dinary; and that, both for his boldness, and for the 
 cleverness which he displayed in eluding capture, it 
 was evident that he united every element of the cour- 
 ageous and successful adventurer. 
 
 As he grew older, it became apparent that he was 
 destined to pass through a most useful and active 
 career. At the age of seventeen, he had no match 
 among the settlers as a marksman; and he was able 
 to contend successfully in bodily exercises with the 
 most stalwart pioneers of Western Virginia. While 
 a boy, he acquired the practice of loading his rifle 
 while running, and he thus gained a double advan- 
 tage over his enemies ; for, in case of pursuit, he was 
 enabled to thwart the most active enemy. How quick 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 259 
 
 and expert he was in this difficult exercise, and how 
 valuable it proved to him, the following story will 
 illustrate : 
 
 In the year 1783, shortly after William Crawford's 
 defeat by the Indians, a man named Thomas Mills, 
 one of the fugitives of that disastrous expedition, 
 reached the Indian Spring, a place about nine miles 
 from Wheeling. As the country was too rough to 
 go further on horseback, he left his horse tied to a 
 tree, and went on foot to the settlement. After a 
 day's rest, he started to return ; but, knowing that 
 the journey would be very dangerous, he induced 
 Lewis Weitzel, who was then about nineteen years 
 old, to go with him. Arriving at the spring, Mills 
 proceeded to unloose the animal ; but, before he had 
 accomplished his purpose, Weitzel suddenly yelled 
 to him to place himself on his guard, and immedi- 
 ately afterward discharged his piece at an Indian 
 whom he had discovered peeping from behind a 
 tree. The shot took effect, and the savage fell 
 dead. This act was followed by a volley of bul- 
 lets, fired by a war-party concealed in the bushes; 
 and, before Weitzel had time to reload his gun, a 
 band of about forty Indians rushed forward. Look- 
 ing round for his companion, Weitzel discovered him 
 lying motionless on the ground ; and, knowing that 
 his own death or capture would instantly follow, 
 unless he had the good fortune to save himself, he 
 made a quick bound, dashed through the throng of 
 Indians, and started off at the full extent of his 
 speed. 
 
260 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 He was not, however, destined to escape without 
 making a strenuous effort; for he had no sooner 
 commenced his flight than four of the fleetest In- 
 dians of the party dropped their guns, and followed 
 in pursuit. Weitzel was justly accounted a young 
 man of almost unrivaled activity; and, although he 
 had but a few feet the start, he soon succeeded in 
 placing a distance of several yards between himself 
 and the foremost Indian. After running for about 
 half a mile, he became conscious that his pursuer 
 was steadily gaining on him; and, turning his head, 
 he saw the savage, only a few feet behind, straining 
 every muscle. Fearing that his enemy might throw 
 his tomahawk, Weitzel, having by this time loaded 
 his gun, quickly wheeled, and shot him dead in his 
 tracks. The three remaining Indians, w r ho were 
 some distance behind, gave a loud yell, and bounded 
 forward at full speed, thinking that, since the white 
 man's gun was empty, he could do them no further 
 harm. Weitzel now had no fear of being taken ; for 
 he regarded the rest of the party, compared with the 
 first Indian, as mere laggards, and, slackening his 
 speed, he quickly reloaded his gun, preparing to give 
 his pursuers another proof of his skill in tactics. 
 
 After running for another half mile, the second 
 Indian came up, and Weitzel turned to shoot. But, 
 to his great disgust, he found that the fellow had 
 made such speed that he was immediately on his 
 heels ; and, as he raised the rifle, the Indian caught 
 the muzzle with both hands, striving to wrench it from 
 his grasp. An earnest struggle now followed for the 
 
THE ADVENTURES OP LEWIS \VEIT2EL. 261 
 
 possession of the weapon. The savage was very 
 large, sinewy and dexterous, and, exerting all his 
 strength, he finally succeeded in bringing his oppo- 
 nent to the ground. Following up his advantage, he 
 attempted to take possession of the gun, but Weitzel, 
 making a quick movement, succeeded, just at the crit- 
 ical instant, in recovering himself, and, jerking the 
 piece from the Indian's grasp, placed the muzzle 
 against his breast and fired. The warrior gave a 
 heavy groan, and dropped dead on the spot. 
 
 The two savages who remained continued the 
 pursuit. By this time, however, both they and the 
 fugitive were very tired, and the chase was not so 
 animated as it had been. In a few moments Weitzel 
 had again charged his gun, and as he was anxious to 
 put an end to the business, he faced about and 
 raised it to shoot. The two Indians dodged, and 
 concealed themselves behind trees. Weitzel re- 
 sumed his flight, and they followed in pursuit. He 
 again stopped and they again treed; and they ran 
 on in this way for two or three miles, until Weitzel, 
 thoroughly exasperated, suddenly turned and fired 
 at one of the Indians just as he was taking cover. 
 The ball took effect in the man's thigh, and produced 
 a wound which, as Weitzel learned afterward, proved 
 fatal. At his comrade's fall, the fourth Indian gave 
 a little shriek, and cried in a manner which threw 
 Weitzel into convulsions of laughter, "No catch dat 
 man; him gun always loaded'' running off as he did 
 so, glad, doubtless, to escape with his life. In this 
 extraordinary adventure, Weitzel killed three Indi- 
 
262 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ans and mortally wounded a fourth, He escaped 
 without harm, and arrived home in a few hours with 
 the report of his remarkable achievement. 
 
 During the next four years Weitzel passed most 
 of his time in hunting and fishing. In this period 
 he had many adventures of a most exciting nature, 
 and his name gradually came to be known and feared 
 by the Indian tribes throughout Virginia. It was 
 not, however, until the year 1787, that he became 
 an avowed Indian hunter, and commenced his advent- 
 urous career in earnest. The incident which was 
 immediately instrumental in transforming him from 
 the careless trapper and woodsman into the deter- 
 mined and terrible avenger of blood, may be told in 
 brief, as follows : 
 
 His father, John Weitzel, as our readers have 
 already been informed, was a man of the most reck- 
 less arid desperate valor and daring. In pursuit of 
 his occupation, that of hunter and surveyor, he fre- 
 quently went on long journeys without a single com- 
 panion, and was never attended by more than one or 
 two friends. One day, while returning in a canoe, 
 with one companion, from an excursion to Middle Island 
 Creek, he was hailed by a large party of Indians, 
 aid ordered to put ashore. Without making a re- 
 ply he headed his boat for the middle of the stream, 
 and, with his companion, used every effort to escape. 
 The Indians fired on the instant, and one of their 
 balls struck Weitzel in the body, wounding him mor- 
 tally. Knowing that, under any circumstances, he 
 must soon die from the effects of the shot, Weitzel, 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL.- 263 
 
 true to his noble and heroic spirit, ordered his com- 
 panion to lie down in the canoe, and then, working 
 the paddles with renewed vigor, although his life 
 was ebbing fast, pulled for the opposite shore. The 
 Indians fired another volley, but, fortunately, without 
 effect, and before they had time to discharge a third, 
 the boat was out of range. Weitzel expired soon 
 after reaching the bank, and was buried by his com- 
 panion. His grave may still be seen near the old 
 fortress, called Baker's Station. It is marked by a 
 rough stone, on which is written in rough, though 
 distinct characters, the inscription, " J. W., 1787." 
 
 On receiving the news of his father's death, Lewis 
 Weitzel, in common with his three brothers, sol- 
 emnly swore sleepless vengeance against the whole In- 
 dian race. Lewis was, at this time, about twenty-three 
 years old, and in the prime of his manhood. En- 
 dowed with a will as inflexible as his bodily powers 
 were vigorous, few could have been better adapted 
 to carry a resolution of this kind into effect; and at 
 no time during his subsequent life did he forget the 
 oath which he had taken, while the vengeance which 
 he wrought was terrible indeed. A few incidents in 
 his life will serve to illustrate the boldness and firm- 
 ness of his spirit, and to point out at once what was 
 good and what was bad in his character. The fol- 
 lowing account of his adventures has been written 
 more to secure this object than to form a continuous 
 and accurate narrative of his career; and it is hoped 
 that whatever deficiencies it may have in point of 
 chronological arrangement, will be overlooked in view 
 
264 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 of the much greater importance of the subject-matter 
 itself, which has been drawn from the most reliable 
 sources, and all of which can be depended upon as 
 scrupulously truthful and thoroughly authentic. 
 
 A few weeks after the murder of John Weitzel, 
 the Indians became very troublesome in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Wheeling settlement, and, one of their 
 parties having killed a man at a place called Mingo 
 Bottom, it was decided to take vigorous measures 
 against them. An expedition was accordingly formed 
 and dispatched, under Major McMahan ; and, in order 
 to stimulate the men to use every possible effort, a 
 subscription purse of one hundred dollars was made 
 up and offered as a reward to the man who should 
 bring in the first Indian scalp. 
 
 On being requested to join the band, Lewis Weit- 
 zel promptly consented, telling his comrades that, 
 though he expected before long to claim and receive 
 the reward, he thought less of the profits of the un- 
 dertaking than of the satisfaction which he expected 
 to derive in encountering the rascally red-skins. The 
 party, numbering about twenty men, crossed the 
 river, and, marching rapidly in the direction of the 
 Muskingum, soon penetrated the heart of the wil- 
 derness. 
 
 Striking a broad Indian trail, a detachment of five 
 men was sent forward to reconnoiter. This detach- 
 ment, after an absence of a few hours, returned, and 
 reported that the savages were encamped directly 
 ahead, but that their numbers were far too great to 
 warrant an attack ; adding that the best which could 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 265 
 
 be done, under the circumstances, was to return im- 
 mediately, since the Indians, doubtless, had runners 
 scattered throughout the country, who would discover 
 the pursuing party and carry word quickly to the 
 main body. Taking counsel with a few of his friends. 
 McMahan determined to give over the enterprise, 
 and accordingly ordered a retreat. 
 
 While the discussion was going on, Weitzel sat 
 quietly on a log, carelessly resting his rifle on his 
 knees, and listening with an amused expression to 
 the various arguments which were offered. As soon 
 as it was decided to return, nearly all of the party set 
 off in impetuous haste, and Weitzel's amused look 
 changed to an expression of the most thorough dis- 
 gust. As he did not move, McMahan turned to 
 him and asked him whether he intended to join his 
 comrades. "No," he sullenly replied; "I came out 
 to hunt Indians, and now that they are found, I am 
 not going home, like a fool, with my fingers in my 
 mouth. I am determined to take an Indian scalp, or 
 lose my own." At this answer his companions looked 
 at him for a moment in amazement, but, seeing that 
 he was in earnest, they attempted to argue with him, 
 representing to him the extreme folly of his course. 
 He would not, however, listen to any words, and, 
 bidding him adieu, they soon took a hasty departure. 
 
 When the men were gone, Weitzel arose, and, 
 gathering his blanket around him, adjusted his toma- 
 hawk and scalping-knife, examined and shouldered his 
 rifle, and then started off alone, pursuing the course 
 which 'his companions had abandoned. Thoroughly 
 
266 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 acquainted with every feature of Indian warfare, he 
 advanced with all the caution of the experienced 
 hunter, avoiding all of the large streams, and peering 
 into every dell and cover, keenly alive to all sounds 
 and appearances of a doubtful nature. He met with 
 no adventure during the first day, and as evening 
 came on, satisfying himself that there was no danger 
 of being discovered, he lay down to sleep. 
 
 The night air was very cold, and Weitzel soon 
 awoke, chilled to the bone. As he knew that there 
 were enemies in the neighborhood, he did not venture 
 to light a fire, but, resorting to an expedient as novel 
 as it was ingenious, he soon succeeded in producing a 
 good substitute. He made a small coal pit out of 
 bark, dried leaves, and other materials, and covering 
 the heap with some loose earth, leaving an air-hole or 
 two, he lighted the combustibles and encircled the pit 
 with his legs. He thus got the benefit of a fire with- 
 out showing a light, and, covering the upper part of 
 his body with his blanket, he soon sank into an agree- 
 able sleep. 
 
 On the next morning, Weitzel resumed his hunt 
 for Indians. After traveling for many hours over 
 a large extent of country without seeing any signs, 
 he came, at length, to a small clearing, and, to his 
 great joy, discovered, at a short distance, a column 
 of smoke rising through the trees. Going quickly to 
 the spot from which the smoke ascended, he found a 
 camp, though no Indians. On the ground, near the 
 fire, were two blankets and a small kettle, and, guess- 
 ing that they were the property of two Indians absent 
 
TkiJir 
 
TFIE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS \VEITZEL. 267 
 
 on the hunt, he concealed himself and patiently 
 awaited developments. In a short time, one of the 
 savages came in, and, stirring the fire, went about 
 to prepare his supper. His companion arrived about 
 ten minutes later. They ate their meal, and then 
 commenced to amuse themselves by singing and tell- 
 ing stories. They seemed to be in a very mirthful 
 mood, and their grimaces and extravagant bursts of 
 laughter afforded Weitzel no small entertainment. 
 He might easily have shot both of them while they 
 sat helpless and utterly incapable of defense, or 
 rolled on the ground convulsed with merriment, ni t 
 he preferred to wait for awhile and watch their move- 
 ments. 
 
 About ten o'clock, one of the savages tock his 
 rifle and wrapped his blanket around him, telling his 
 companion that he was going to a lick on a small 
 stream near at hand to watch for deer. His depart- 
 ure was a source of considerable vexation to Weitzel, 
 who had laid his plans so as to kill both ; but, hoping 
 that the Indian would return before morning, he de- 
 termined to leave the other one unmolested until his 
 absent comrade again put in an appearance. Many 
 hours passed, and the Indian did not return. Finally 
 the birds in the trees commenced to chirp, indicating 
 that the day was near at hand. Longer delay was 
 intolerable, and Weitzel concluded to put an end 
 to the adventure at once. He walked into the 
 camp, and stealing up to the Indian, who lay sleep- 
 ing on one side, he drew his knife and drove it 
 with the utmost force into his body. The blow was 
 
268 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 well-directed, and the blade penetrated the heart, 
 for the victim uttered no sound, but gave only a short, 
 convulsive quiver, and then lay motionless in death. 
 Weitzel quickly took his scalp, and, setting out on 
 his return, made such speed that he arrived at Mingo 
 Bottom only one day after his companions. Showing 
 the scalp of the Indian, he claimed his reward, which 
 was immediately paid to him. 
 
 Among the most celebrated exploits of Weitzel, 
 was his massacre of three savages while on one of 
 his fall hunts. Traveling through the forest, near the 
 bank of the Muskingum River, he fell, one night, upon 
 a camp of four Indians. In spite of the great odds 
 necessarily attending the attempt, he determined to 
 rush into their midst, and, while they lay asleep, 
 dispatch them. The adventure is thus related by 
 one of Weitzel's biographers : 
 
 "At the hour of midnight he moved cautiously 
 from his covert, and, gliding through the darkness, 
 stealthily approached the camp, supporting his rifle 
 in one hand and a tomahawk in the other. A dim 
 flicker from the camp-fire faintly revealed the forms 
 of the sleepers, wrapped in that profound slumber 
 which, to part of them, was to know no waking. 
 There they lay, with their dark faces turned up to the 
 night-sky, in the deep solitude of their own wilder- 
 ness, little dreaming that their most relentless enemy 
 was hovering over them. Quietly resting his gun 
 against a tree, he unsheathed his knife, and, with an 
 intrepidity that could never be surpassed, stepped 
 boldly forward, like the minister of death, and, quick 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 269 
 
 as thought, cleft the skull of one of his sleeping vic- 
 tims. In an instant a second one was similarly served ; 
 and as a third attempted to rise, confused by the 
 horrid yells with which Weitzel accompanied his 
 blows, he too shared the fate of his companions, and 
 sank dead at the feet of his ruthless slayer. The 
 fourth darted into the darkness of the wood and es- 
 caped, although Weitzel pursued him some distance. 
 Returning to camp, he scalped his victims, and then 
 left for home. When asked, on his return, what 
 luck? "Not much," he replied. "I treed four Indians, 
 but one got away." This unexampled achievement 
 stamped him as one of the most daring and, at the 
 same time, successful hunters of his day. The dis- 
 tance to and from the scene of this adventure could 
 not have been less than one hundred and seventy 
 miles." 
 
 In illustration of the profound sagacity of this 
 bold hunter, the two following incidents are com- 
 mended to the attention of the reader: 
 
 The Indians had a practice of decoying hunters 
 and woodsmen by imitating the cry of the wild turkey, 
 which some of them uttered to perfection. In the 
 neighborhood of Wheeling Creek, two or three men, 
 who had gone out to hunt, upon hearing this decep- 
 tive call, had never returned, and, though the turkey 
 decoy was not known among the settlers at that time, 
 Weitzel, reflecting upon the matter, became con- 
 vinced that the disappearance of the hunters was 
 owing to some such cause. 
 
 Keeping on the alert for two or three days after- 
 
27O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ward, Weitzel heard the turkey-call several times, and, 
 remarking that it came from a single direction, he de- 
 termined to investigate matters. He knew that, on 
 the hill from which the sound came, there was a large 
 cavern, whose entrance was very narrow and entirely 
 concealed by a thick growth of bushes. Hoping- to 
 get a shot at an Indian before breakfast, he shoul- 
 dered his gun one morning about day-break, and, 
 climbing the hill, took a circuitous route, reached the 
 spot, and posted himself behind a tree in front of the 
 opening of the cave. 
 
 In the course of about half an hour his vigilance was 
 rewarded. The twisted tuft of a warrior was thrust 
 from the opening, and the savage, after peering 
 cautiously around, uttered the long, shrill, and pecul- 
 iar cry, and then drew back into the darkness of the 
 cave. Weitzel placed himself in readiness, cocked 
 his gun, rested its muzzle on the ledge of a rock, 
 and awaited expectantly the second appearance of 
 the Indian. Presently the tuft was again thrust forth, 
 and the warrior, straining his head forward, prepared 
 to utter the deceptive cry. Scarcely had he given the 
 first note, when Weitzel pulled the trigger of his rifle 
 and sent a bullet into his brain. The Indian fell 
 sprawling on the ground, and the successful hunter, 
 taking his scalp, set out for home, well satisfied with 
 the issue of the morning's adventure. On the way 
 he met two men from the fort, who, hearing the cry, 
 had taken their rifles and started out with the hope 
 of killing game. In reply to their inquiries, Weitzel 
 told them that they had best return, since he had 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 271 
 
 been ahead of them and taken all the game that was 
 to be found in the neighborhood. He then showed 
 the scalp of the Indian and related his adventure. 
 Tradition does not say whether the turkey decoy was 
 employed afterward by the Indians in the neighbor- 
 hood of Wheeling Creek, but it is certain that no 
 more incautious hunters were entrapped by it.* 
 
 Another incident which strikingly illustrates the 
 great sagacity and cunning of Lewis Weitzel is thus 
 related by the writer from whom we have already 
 quoted: 
 
 "Returning homeward from a hunt north of the 
 Ohio, somewhat fatigued and a little careless of his 
 movements, he suddenly espied an Indian in the 
 very act of raising his gun to fire. Both immedi- 
 ately sprang to trees ; and here they stood for an 
 hour, each afraid of the other. What was to be 
 done? To remain there during the whole day for 
 it was then early in the morning was out of the 
 question. Now it was that the sagacity of Weitzel 
 displayed itself over the child-like simplicity of the 
 savage. Cautiously adjusting his bear-skin cap to 
 the end of his ramrod with the slightest, most du- 
 bious, and hesitating motion, as though afraid to 
 venture a glance, the cap protruded. An instant, a 
 crack, and off was torn the fatal cap by the sure ball 
 of'the vigilant savage. Leaping from his retreat, our 
 hero rapidly advanced upon the astonished Indian, 
 and, ere the tomahawk could be brought to its work 
 
 * A similar story is told in Hall's " Romance of Western History," of Captain William 
 Linn. 
 
272 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 of death, the tawny foe sprang convulsively into the 
 air, and, straightening as he descended, fell on his 
 face, quite dead." 
 
 The incident in Lewis Weitzel's life which gave 
 him the most trouble, and which has ever since been 
 the means of reflecting discredit upon his name, with 
 a certain class of people, was the shooting by him 
 and Veach Dickerson of the Indian George Wash- 
 ington, at the time of General Harmar's expedition, 
 pending negotiations for a peace. Although no jus- 
 tification can fully exonerate him from blame for his 
 conduct on this occasion, and although the harsh 
 measures taken against him by the military authori- 
 ties for his part in the affair were, according to the 
 principles of strict justice, entirely warranted by the 
 circumstances of the case, the judgment of reason 
 is that his action was not wholly inexcusable, and 
 that General Harmar's extreme want of leniency did 
 very .little credit to that officer's judicial character. 
 Of these things, however, we shall have more to say 
 further on. The following is believed to be an accu- 
 rate version of the affair: 
 
 About the year 1789, General Harmar so cele- 
 brated in Western history for his part in the unfort- 
 unate expedition which bears his name erected a 
 fort at the mouth of the Muskingum River, where 
 Marietta now stands. Wishing to obtain the co- 
 operation of the neighboring Indian tribes, he sent 
 a party of white men with a flag of truce to propose 
 a conference. In response to Harmar's proposal, a 
 large body of warriors came, on the general invita- 
 
ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 273 
 
 tion, and encamped on the Muskingum, a few miles 
 above its mouth. Negotiations followed, and General 
 Harmar issued a proclamation ordering a cessation of 
 arms among the whites. 
 
 On hearing of Harmar's order, Weitzel, who under- 
 stood the methods of war better than the laws and 
 obligations of peace, declared that the general was 
 either a coward or a fool. Treaties, he said, had fre- 
 quently been concluded with the red-skins, but the 
 Indian nature was treacherous in the extreme, and 
 faith had never been kept. He demanded of his com- 
 panions whether they would submit to see their vil- 
 lainous enemies given an advantage by which they 
 could carry every hostile design which they might 
 have into execution. He declared that he, for his 
 part, would not recognize General Harmar's authority, 
 but would continue to fight Indians as before; and, if 
 the general had aught to say against his conduct, he 
 would take care that every thing should be right. 
 
 In fulfillment of the resolution which he had formed, 
 Weitzel proposed to one of his comrades, Veach Dick- 
 erson, that they should go to Fort Harmar, conceal 
 themselves on the road between the fort and the camp, 
 and, lying in wait, kill the first Indian who made his 
 appearance. An opportunity, he said, would soon 
 offer, since it was natural to suppose that parties were 
 constantly passing to and from the fort. Leaving the 
 settlement at Mingo Bottom, where Weitzel was 
 living at that time, the two friends set out on their 
 enterprise, and in a short time arrived in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Indian encampment. Concealing 
 
274 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 themselves by the wayside, they waited patiently for 
 the appearance of their intended victim. 
 
 After lying for a few hours, they heard the tramp 
 of a horse approaching at full speed from the direc- 
 tion of the camp. Soon it came within view, and 
 Weitzel and Dickerson saw that its rider was a tall, 
 thickset savage. He was covered from head to foot 
 
 o 
 
 with ornaments, and was evidently a warrior of rank. 
 Weitzel told his companion that they must not let 
 this fellow escape them; and, waiting until he came 
 opposite, Weitzel raised his gun, and yelled to the 
 Indian to halt. As the horse was going at great 
 speed, the sound of his voice was drowned, and the 
 order was not heard. The Indian passed at a hard 
 gallop ; but the men, determined not to be disap- 
 pointed, took a quick aim and fired simultaneously. 
 To their mortification, the savage did not drop, 
 although, from a plunging motion which he made 
 in his saddle, he was evidently wounded. He 
 spurred his horse and rode on. Weitzel watched him 
 until he disappeared in the distance ; and then, tak- 
 ing his comrade's arm, beat a hasty retreat, for he 
 knew that the camp, on hearing that the warrior had 
 been shot at, would be alarmed, and that the Indians 
 would take immediate steps to arrest the aggressor. 
 The two men made their escape without being seen, 
 and soon after arrived home in safety. On being 
 asked by their neighbors what success they had had, 
 Weitzel replied that fortune had been against them. 
 They had seen but one Indian, he said, and he had 
 escaped. But, he added, although the fellow had not 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. I 1 ] '5 
 
 dropped, he appeared to have been tickled by some- 
 thing, for he rode off scratching his back as if he had 
 been stung by a yellow-jacket. The truth is, Weitzel 
 and Dickerson had not shot so ill as appearances 
 indicated, for they soon heard that the savage had 
 indeed been hit. The balls both took effect, one 
 entering his hip, and the other the small of his back. 
 The Indian rode to the fort, and soon after expired 
 from the effects of his wound. 
 
 As soon as the news of his death was carried to 
 the encamped body of Indians, they were thrown 
 into the most intense excitement. Thronging to the 
 fort in great numbers, they with one voice accused 
 Lewis Weitzel of the murder; and, furiously threat- 
 ening vengeance, they demanded Harmar to at once 
 arrest and execute the criminal. They declared that, 
 unless some decisive step was taken by way of pun- 
 ishment, they would instantly break off all friendly 
 relations, and take the war-path. 
 
 When the general heard of the outrage, he fell into 
 a most violent passion. But when he was told that 
 the offender was Lewis Weitzel, his rage knew no 
 bounds. He might, he declared, have been induced 
 to look with lenity on the crime, had it been perpe- 
 trated by one of his own followers; for men who 
 profess the calling of arms are constantly having 
 their little disagreements and brawls. But it was 
 quite another matter, he said, when a rude, beastly, 
 semi-barbarous back-woodsman presumed to delib- 
 erately set his authority at defiance, and take the 
 chastisement of the Indians into his own hands ; and 
 
276 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 he swore that, if Weitzel was ever caught, he should 
 pay for his act with his life. 
 
 Determined to make every effort to bring the 
 criminal to justice, General Harmar sent a company 
 of men, commanded by a captain Kingsbury, to 
 Mingo Bottom, with orders to take Lewis Weitzel, 
 dead or alive. The captain, thinking that nothing 
 could be easier than to perform a mission of this 
 character, made the journey in a boat; and, arriv- 
 ing at the settlement, landed, and sent a messen- 
 ger to Major McMahan, demanding the person of 
 Weitzel. 
 
 It happened that on this day there was a shooting- 
 match among the settlers. Weitzel, as usual, had 
 borne off the palm, and, as he had given some very 
 remarkable proofs of his skill with the rifle, his friends 
 were never in a worse mood to part with him. On 
 the arrival of the boat containing Captain Kingsbury's 
 party, the object of their mission was at once guessed, 
 and the news was spread that the officers had come 
 to apprehend the bold hunter. A company of angry 
 men at once gathered, and, going to the place where 
 Weitzel stood conversing with a few friends, the in- 
 telligence was communicated to him. On receiving 
 the information, Weitzel gave a fierce look, and 
 seized his gun, savagely swearing vengeance. His 
 anger was roused to such a pitch that he ordered 
 his companions to form and follow him to the river 
 bank, as he intended to give the presumptuous offi- 
 cers a lesson that they would not be likely soon to 
 forget. The men surrounded him with a cheer, and 
 
ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 277 
 
 the party proceeded to execute the plan, when they 
 were met by Major McMahan, who, representing the 
 matter in a different light, prevailed upon them to 
 wait until the officers should make an aggressive 
 movement before resenting. He then went to Cap- 
 tain Kingsbury and told him of the temper of the 
 settlers, advising him to be off at once if he did not 
 wish to have every man in the country upon him. 
 Kingsbury, seeing the determined attitude taken by 
 the settlers on the shore, at once gave the word to 
 pull off, and the boat was started on its return. As 
 it rowed up the stream, Weitzel gazed after it with 
 a fierce look, and several times felt impelled to follow 
 it and lay an ambush. He checked himself, however, 
 and quietly returned to his cabin, regarding the affair 
 as settled. 
 
 About a month after the attempt of Captain Kings- 
 bury, Weitzel, thinking that every thing had been 
 forgotten, and that he was as free to go and come 
 at pleasure as any man in the country, got into a 
 canoe, with the intention of proceeding down the 
 Ohio for a hunt in the wilds of Kentucky. On ar- 
 riving in the neighborhood of Fort Harmar, he was 
 seen and recognized by a soldier, who immediately 
 carried word to his commander. As it was near 
 dark, Weitzel concluded to go no further that day, 
 and accordingly landed on an island opposite the 
 fort, designing to pass the night with a friend named 
 Hamilton Carr. He was cordially received and given 
 shelter. About midnight a company of soldiers 
 rowed over from the fort, and, while some surrounded 
 
278 THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 
 
 Mr. Carr's house, others entered, and, overpowering 
 Weitzel as he lay asleep, bound him hand and foot, 
 carried him to a boat, and took him to General Har- 
 mar, who ordered him to be chained and placed in the 
 guard-room. 
 
 For two days Weitzel remained handcuffed and 
 hobbled in close confinement, scarcely able to pace 
 from one side of his narrow chamber to the other. 
 The ignominy of being thus treated as a criminal was, 
 to one of his upright character, unendurable, and he 
 felt the disgrace keenly. But when he remembered 
 the cause of this harsh usage, and reflected that, for 
 an act which he regarded as entirely legitimate, and, 
 indeed, patriotic, he was now chained like a common 
 murderer, and would, in all probability, be hanged 
 like one, he grew frantic with indignation. He finally 
 determined to remonstrate with General Harmar, or, 
 at least, to know that officer's purpose. He accord- 
 ingly called the guard and requested him to send 
 word to the general that he desired an interview. 
 
 Harmar, in response to Weitzel's message, came to 
 see him. The prisoner admitted, without hesitation, 
 although without the slightest bravado, that he had 
 shot an Indian. In very plain language he told the 
 general his motives, and asked him what he intended 
 to do. General Harmar replied that the military 
 law would have to take its course. The punishment 
 for so grave an offense, he said, was summary, and 
 execution would probably be the result. 
 
 At this information, Weitzel told his visitor that he 
 had often braved death in a thousand terrible shapes. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 279 
 
 He said that it had no terrors for him, since he was, 
 and had always been, a total stranger to fear. But, 
 he asserted, although he knew nothing of fear, and 
 would scorn to beg for his life, he still had some- 
 thing of pride in his nature. He could not endure 
 the thought of dying like a villain on the scaffold, and 
 he entreated the general not to spare him from death, 
 if it was indeed just that death should be his portion, 
 but to grant him the boon of dying like a brave and 
 fearless man. He requested him to turn him over to 
 the Indians, a large number of whom were encamped 
 in the immediate neighborhood, and all of whom 
 thirsted for his blood. The whole band, he said, 
 might be arranged in a circle, each with his scalping- 
 knife and tomahawk drawn. All that he asked was 
 to be given a tomahawk and placed in their midst. 
 This, he concluded by saying, would be a just pun- 
 ishment, and would insure his certain death. He ear- 
 nestly entreated General Harmar to permit him to 
 die in this manner, saying that he would then die 
 content. 
 
 The general, after a pause, told Weitzel that, since 
 he was an officer appointed by law, he must enforce the 
 law according to the forms prescribed. He had no 
 authority to make such a compromise, and he could 
 not, therefore, grant his prisoner's request. With 
 these words, he took his departure. 
 
 Weitzel now knew that the ignominious death of 
 the criminal would soon fall to his lot. Each day he 
 regarded the next as the day of his doom. Finally, 
 his confinement growing intolerably irksome, he again 
 
280 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 sent for General Harmar to come and see him. The 
 general came. Weitzel told him that he had never 
 been imprisoned before, and, saying- that he would 
 soon die unless he was allowed to take exercise, re- 
 quested the privilege of walking awhile in the open 
 air. General Harmar, acceding to Weitzel's request, 
 ordered the officer to knock off his iron fetters, but 
 to leave on his handcuffs, and then to lead him to 
 walk on the point at the mouth of the Muskingum 
 River, but not to fail to keep a strict watch upon 
 him. With this order, he again left. 
 
 The fetters had no sooner been taken from Weitz- 
 el's legs than he gave a loud whoop, and, knocking 
 his feet together, jumped two or three times into the 
 air, by way of giving expression to his extreme joy 
 at again having the free use of his limbs. When he 
 was led into the prison-yard, his delight was seem- 
 ingly past all bounds, and, telling his guard to stand 
 still for a moment, he ran off a few feet, and then, 
 after several capers, made a sudden rush, and, at one 
 spring, leaped over the astonished keeper's head. 
 Striking the ground, he repeated the feat before the 
 guard had time to turn, and then, fearing lest he 
 should be suspected of a design to escape, and 
 again confined, he ran several times around him, cut- 
 ting the most extravagant capers as he did so. The 
 guard, unable to retain his gravity, burst into a loud 
 laugh, .and, greatly amused at the prisoner's actions, 
 accompanied him out of the inclosure toward the 
 point. He had, however, gone only a few steps from 
 the fort gate, when he stopped, and, grasping 
 
Chimney RocU, Island of MacMnac. 
 
WEITZEL ESCAPES FROM THE GUARDS. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 283 
 
 Weitzel by the collar of his coat, led him back into 
 the yard. Calling two of his companions, who sat 
 smoking their pipes by the prison-door, he ordered 
 them to take their rifles and join him, saying that the 
 prisoner was uncommonly frisky, and, if disposed, 
 miorht make trouble. 
 
 o 
 
 Arrived, under the charge of his escort, at the 
 point, Weitzel again commenced his wild antics. He 
 frisked and -capered like a young colt broke loose 
 from the stall, and, by his playful leaps and extrav- 
 agant actions, .soon had the guards in a constant roar 
 of laughter. He would start and run a few yards 
 with incredible swiftness, as if about to attempt an 
 escape, but, just at the moment that the guards pre- 
 pared to follow in pursuit, he would suddenly check 
 himself, turn a series of somersaults, and rejoin 
 them. In this way he distracted their attention for 
 some time, and, calculating the distance at each start, 
 succeeded in getting farther and farther away. 
 Finally, feeling that the critical moment had come, he 
 called forth all his power, activity and resolution, 
 and, boldly dashing off, he ran with the swiftness of 
 the deer for the adjoining wood. The guards looked 
 at him for a few seconds in a careless, idle manner, 
 thinking that his only object was to show them the 
 great physical resources which he possessed. In a 
 moment, however, they comprehended his purpose, 
 and yelled to him to stop. He did not heed their 
 cry, and, realizing that he was indeed bound on 
 escape, they fired. All of their balls missed, and, 
 
 astonished and bewildered, they stood for a moment 
 IT 
 
284 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 looking after the fugitive. As soon as they recov- 
 ered from their surprise, two of them started in pur- 
 suit, while the third ran back to raise the alarm. 
 
 In the meantime Weitzel had made such good use 
 of his advantage that he had gained the forest. He 
 was perfectly familiar with the country, and he at 
 once made for a dense thicket at the distance of two 
 or three miles. He reached his objective point in 
 safety, and, after making a quick examination of the 
 position, concealed himself under a tree which had 
 fallen across a log, where the brush was so close 
 that he could scarcely force his way through, and 
 that only the narrowest examination could result in 
 discovery. 
 
 Weitzel lay in his hiding-place for about half an 
 hour before he heard any sound to indicate that he 
 was pursued. At the end of this time a troop of 
 horsemen came crashing through the trees, but they 
 passed on without stopping. In the course of another 
 half hour he heard loud whoops in every direction, 
 and he knew that the Indians had been set on his 
 trail. Soon the wood was perfectly alive with his 
 enemies, whom he heard passing and repassing every 
 few minutes. Nearly all of them, however, were in 
 hot pursuit, and passed the thicket without stopping 
 to examine its recesses. 
 
 When W T eitzel had lain for about two hours, two 
 Indians halted under a tree a few yards from his 
 hiding-place, and commenced to converse in very 
 earnest tones. Weitzel could hear that they were 
 disputing about the probable course which he had 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 285 
 
 taken, and his heart sank within him when one of 
 them said that he was convinced that the fugitive 
 had not run far, and was, in his opinion, hidden some- 
 where among the bushes. They then advanced to 
 the thicket, and began to beat it carefully. Finally 
 they climbed on the log under which he lay, and, 
 striking the thick brush, they almost touched his body 
 with their clubs. Weitzel's heart beat so violently 
 that he feared they would hear its thumping, and, 
 drawing himself back, he lay in momentary expecta- 
 tion of being jerked from his hiding-place. In a 
 short time the Indians passed on, and Weitzel could 
 hear them hallooing in every direction as they 
 marched ahead continuing their search. 
 
 The day wore on, and one by one the pursuing 
 parties returned. Evening succeeded, and Weitzel 
 found himself alone in its favoring shades. He had 
 made a bold dash for liberty, and escaped from the 
 clutches of the guards. Their bullets had passed 
 him without doing him injury; and he had, at least 
 for the moment, eluded his legion of pursuers. So 
 far, all was good ; but what assurance had he for the 
 future? In all probability some of his enemies were 
 still lurking in the neighborhood. He was hand- 
 cuffed, and could not defend himself. He might, in- 
 deed, wander through the forest without being dis- 
 covered, but how was he to live ? He had no friends 
 on the Ohio side of the river, and he could not cross 
 by swimming. But, although every thing seemed to 
 be against him, he was too brave and hopeful to 
 despair, and, leaving his' place of concealment, he 
 
286 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 again pushed boldly forward, determined that, though 
 he might not secure success, he would at least strive 
 to deserve it. 
 
 Taking a circuitous route, he avoided the immedi- 
 ate neighborhood of the fort, and in a few hours 
 reached the Ohio River, about four miles below. He 
 selected a point which was entirely isolated, for he 
 knew that guards would be stationed at every place 
 where a canoe was to be had. Following the course 
 of the stream, he traveled for a short distance, when 
 he saw, by the light of the moon, a man fishing in a 
 boat on the opposite side, whom he recognized as an 
 acquaintance named Isaac Wiseman. As he was 
 not sure whether he was yet out of sight and hear- 
 ing of his enemies, he did not dare to call, and there- 
 fore resorted to a different expedient. He took a 
 stick and commenced to gently plash the water, seek- 
 ing to attract his friend's attention. In a few mo- 
 ments Mr. Wiseman, hearing the noise, looked round, 
 and Weitzel took off his hat and waved it over his 
 head. He finally succeeded in catching Wiseman's 
 eye, who presently recognized him, and came to his 
 assistance. Weitzel was rowed to the Virginia shore ; 
 a file and hammer soon released him from the hand- 
 cuffs, and, after a night's rest, he set out in a canoe 
 for Kentucky, with a rifle, ammunition and blanket, 
 which had been given him by his friend. 
 
 Not long after his arrival in Kentucky, Weitzel 
 learned that General Harmar, far from permitting the 
 matter to drop, had proclaimed him throughout the 
 country as an outlaw, and set a large price on his 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 287 
 
 head. This officer had recently changed his head- 
 quarters to Fort Washington, at Cincinnati, and one 
 of his first official acts, on taking command of his 
 new post, was to renew his offers of reward for the 
 apprehension and delivery of the man whom he still 
 insisted on declaring the arch-rogue of the Western 
 borders. 
 
 Although Weitzel knew that he carried his life in 
 his hands, his bold and fearless spirit scorned to 
 adopt even the commonest of precautionary meas- 
 ures. He ranged from settlement to settlement with 
 the greatest impunity, and took no steps whatever to 
 conceal his identity. One day, while hunting near 
 the mouth of the Kanawha River, he accidentally 
 encountered Captain Kingsbury, the same officer 
 who had, on a previous occasion, been sent to take 
 him from Mingo Bottom. Weitzel saw Kingsbury 
 first, and halted instantly in the path, placing himself 
 in readiness for any emergency. Captain Kingsbury, 
 who was a brave and generous man, and who, 
 although he held Weitzel's occupation in the great- 
 est detestation, had a true respect and admiration 
 for the man, faced the hunter with a firm and fearless 
 gaze, but made no movement by way of offense. 
 Weitzel knew and honored the officer as a man of 
 the most irreproachable character and undoubted 
 bravery, and he, also, forbore to make an attack. 
 After gazing for awhile at each other, the two men 
 both slowly and guardedly retired without coming to 
 blows, and almost without speaking a word. 
 
 Soon after his meeting with Captain Kingsbury, 
 
288 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Weitzel, while -sitting one day in a tavern in Mays- 
 ville, Kentucky, was seen by Lieutenant Lawler, of 
 the regular army, who had stopped at that place 
 while on his way to Fort Washington with a body 
 of troops. The lieutenant, on recognizing the stal- 
 wart hunter, quickly ordered out a file of soldiers ; 
 and Weitzel, although he made a stout resistance, 
 was seized and dragged to a boat, which was im- 
 mediately pushed off. On that evening the fort 
 was reached, and the prisoner was delivered up to 
 General Harmar. He was immediately loaded with 
 heavy chains and thrown into a strong room, while 
 the general, determined that he should not again 
 escape justice, prepared to hold his trial and obtain 
 his condemnation forthwith. 
 
 Every ray of hope was now, to all appearance, ex- 
 tinguished. General Harmar, deaf to all appeals in 
 behalf of the unfortunate man, and unmindful of the 
 strong arguments advanced in extenuation of his 
 offense, was sternly unrelenting. Several of his offi- 
 cers, whose admiration of the courageous character 
 of the adventurous frontiersman knew no bounds, 
 earnestly interceded for him, but the resolution of 
 the general would not be shaken. The rank and 
 file of the soldiery were thoroughly in sympathy 
 with Weitzel ; and their murmurs were loud and 
 ominous when it was reported that he was to be 
 hanged simply because he had offended by killing 
 an Indian. Finally, the whole country was aroused, 
 and petitions were sent in for the prisoner's release 
 from all quarters and by all classes. The settlers 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 289 
 
 were furious and indignant; they armed and pro- 
 posed to effect Weitzel's liberation by force, and 
 General Harmar soon saw that the flame of revolt 
 was kindling, and that, unless he made a conces- 
 sion, his authority would speedily be set at naught. 
 Under these circumstances, representations were 
 made which warranted Judge Symmes in issuing a 
 writ of habeas corpus; Weitzel was set at liberty, 
 and quiet was restored. He was escorted by the 
 settlers to Columbia, a town in the vicinity of Fort 
 Washington, in triumph. A supper was given in 
 his honor ; and, when he was ready to set out on 
 his return to Virginia, he was presented by his ad- 
 mirers with a fine rifle, a handsome shot-pouch belt, 
 and a sum of money, and accompanied a portion of 
 the distance by an enthusiastic party of friends. 
 
 Thus ended this memorable affair. Weitzel was 
 not again molested, although General Harmar still 
 believed him to richly merit the punishment of 
 death ; and he could never afterward be persuaded 
 that he had not done a very unwarrantable act in 
 allowing what he regarded to be a most heinous 
 crime to pass in review without the application of 
 the strictest measures of the military law. In con- 
 sidering the case at this length of time, we can not 
 but conclude that the part borne in it by General 
 Harmar was most unenviable. Viewed according to 
 the principles of abstract justice, Weitzel's offense 
 certainly merited the death sentence. But when it 
 is remembered that the offender, far from being 
 actuated by criminal motives, had the most patriotic 
 
THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 object in view; and that, although he was not jus- 
 tified in his course by men of cool judgment, his 
 case was pleaded and clemency was solicited by 
 every person in the Western settlements, it is hard 
 to believe that the enforcement of strict measures 
 against him would have been in the interest of the 
 general welfare. 
 
 Soon after Weitzel's release from imprisonment 
 an incident occurred which forcibly illustrates the 
 truth of this observation. A week or two subse- 
 quent to his arrival in Virginia he received a visit 
 from a relative who lived at a settlement called 
 Dunkard Creek. Preparing to return, he invited 
 Weitzel to accompany him. The invitation was ac- 
 cepted, and the two went on their way, hunting and 
 sporting as they journeyed along. 
 
 In a few days the home o the young man was 
 reached ; but to his dismay and grief he found, in- 
 stead of the hospitable roof, a pile of smoking 
 ruins. The cabin had evidently been attacked and 
 burned, and its inmates either killed or carried 
 off by Indians. Overcome with sorrow, the young 
 man threw himself on the ground and wept bit- 
 terly. Weitzel, in the meantime, quickly examined 
 the ground, and, discovering the trail, found that 
 the attacking party consisted of three Indians, and 
 that they had taken away one captive. The print 
 of a small shoe in the damp earth revealed the fact 
 that the prisoner was a young woman; and Weitzel, 
 communicating this to his companion, was told by 
 the unfortunate youth that she was his sweetheart, 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 29 1 
 
 who had recently come to live with his parents. The 
 two hunters determined to start in instant pursuit. 
 Weitzel took the lead, and, although the Indians 
 had carefully covered their tracks, his sagacity and 
 quickness of perception enabled him to follow the 
 trail rapidly and without the least deviation. 
 
 The pursuers traveled for a day and a half over 
 hills and through dense forests. A number of 
 streams obstructed their march, and they were 
 obliged to stop several times to hunt the trail,, 
 which the cautious savages had sought to conceal 
 by walking in the water. Toward evening of the 
 second day the Ohio was reached, and Weitzel dis- 
 covered a smoke rising through the trees on the 
 opposite side, which he immediately conjectured 
 came from the camp-fire of the Indians. After 
 dark they swam across and reconnoitered the posi- 
 tion of the enemy. The party was more numerous 
 than Weitzel had supposed, consisting of one white 
 renegade, three savages, and the young girl. 
 
 On seeing his betrothe'd the young man grew 
 very impatient, and begged Weitzel to make the 
 attack at once. The wary hunter, however, ordered 
 him to remain quiet, and said that under no condi- 
 tion was the assault to be made before daybreak. 
 He told his companion to lie down and sleep while 
 he mounted guard. The frantic lover reluctantly 
 complied, and Weitzel patiently awaited the appear- 
 ance of day. 
 
 Early in the morning the savages rose from their 
 sleep and prepared to continue the journey. Weit- 
 
2Q2 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 zel ordered his companion, who did not need to be 
 awakened, to take good aim at the white renegade, 
 while he would undertake to dispatch one of the 
 Indians. 
 
 When every thing was ready, Weitzel gave the 
 word, the guns were discharged simultaneously, 
 and two of the enemy dropped lifeless. While his 
 companion rushed forward to free the captive, 
 Weitzel reloaded his piece, and then started in pur- 
 suit of the other two Indians, who had bounded off 
 on hearing the report of the rifles, and who, he con- 
 jectured, had concealed themselves somewhere in the 
 neighborhood, waiting to ascertain the strength of 
 the attacking party. After running a few yards, Weit- 
 zel discharged his gun at random, in order to draw 
 them from their retreat. He succeeded ; the two sav- 
 ages instantly emerged from the bushes and rushed 
 toward him with their tomahawks raised, yelling at 
 the top of their voices. Weitzel flew, reloading his 
 rifle as he did so. Soon prepared, he suddenly turned 
 and shot the first of his pursuers dead. Discovering 
 the trick of the white man, the other Indian bounded 
 forward with the utmost impetuosity, hoping to dis- 
 patch him before ne could again load; but Weitzel 
 eluded him, and kept ahead until he had charged his 
 piece, when he wheeled, and, firing on the moment, 
 laid the last of the party bleeding on the ground. 
 He scalped the Indians, and rejoined his friend. The 
 return journey was made without delay. It is need- 
 less to add that the young man and his affianced bride 
 were but ill-disposed to reproach General Harmar for 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WFITZEL. 293 
 
 his violation of the principles of military justice in 
 setting Lewis Weitzel at liberty. 
 
 About the year 1793, Weitzel left Virginia and 
 paid a visit to the extreme South. Soon after his 
 arrival in New Orleans he was seized by the author- 
 ities on some charge (the nature of which is now 
 unknown) made against him by a Spaniard, and 
 thrown into prison. He remained in confinement for 
 many months. He was finally released by the inter- 
 vention of the United States government. 
 
 During the rest of his career, Weitzel followed a 
 restless and wandering life. He was engaged at 
 different times in scouting and hunting, and locating 
 lands. In the pursuit of this last occupation he was 
 on one occasion employed by John Madison, a brother 
 of the celebrated James Madison, afterward Presi- 
 dent of the United States, to accompany him through 
 the Kanawha region and assist him in finding and 
 locating some land which he had purchased. While 
 on this expedition they came to a hunter's camp 
 which had, to all appearance, been deserted, and, 
 finding some goods, each helped himself to a blanket. 
 The next day they were fired upon by a party of 
 Indians. Madison was killed instantly, but Weitzel 
 was fortunate enough to be spared, and, although he 
 was pursued, he escaped without being harmed. 
 
 In 1803 the celebrated General Clarke, the asso- 
 ciate of Mr. Lewis in the Lewis and Clarke expedi- 
 tion across the Rocky Mountains, sent a messenger 
 to Lewis Weitzel requesting him to take a part in 
 the enterprise. Weitzel consented, after a great deal 
 
2Q4 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 of hesitation, and accompanied the party during the. 
 first three months of the tour; but at the end of that 
 time he grew tired and dissatisfied, severed his con- 
 nection with the expedition, and returned. For the 
 next four or five years he wandered from point to 
 point, and finally settled in Na.tchez. At this place 
 he fell sick, lingered for several months, and, in the 
 summer of 1818, died. 
 
 In person Lewis Weitzel was a man of striking ap- 
 pearance and extraordinary activity and power. He 
 is thus described by one of his acquaintances, who has 
 left us a very interesting account of his adventures: 
 
 " Lewis Weitzel was about five feet nine inches 
 high. He had a full breast, was very broad across 
 the shoulders ; his arms were large his limbs were 
 not heavy his skin was darker than his brothers' 
 his face was considerably pitted by the small-pox 
 his hair, of which he was very careful, reached, when 
 combed out, to the calves of his legs his eyes were 
 remarkably black, and when excited (which was 
 easily done), they would sparkle with such a vindictive 
 glance as almost to curdle the blood to look at him. 
 In his appearance and gait there was something dif- 
 fer^nt from other men." .... 
 
 His character is thus briefly described by the same 
 writer: 
 
 " Where he professed friendship, he was as true as 
 the needle to the pole ; his enmity was always dan- 
 gerous. In mixed company he was a man of few 
 words ; but, with his particular companions, he was 
 a social, and even a cheerful companion." 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 295 
 
 The following extract from an author, from whom 
 we have drawn largely in the present account of 
 Weitzel's adventures, will illustrate other traits in 
 his character: 
 
 "He threw into the common treasury a soul as 
 heroic, as adventurous, as full of energy and ex- 
 haustless of resources as ever animated the human 
 breast. Bold, wary, and active, he stood without an 
 equal in the pursuit to which he had committed him- 
 self, mind and body. No man on the western frontier 
 was more dreaded by the enemy, and none did more 
 to beat him back into the heart of the forest, and 
 reclaim the expanseless domain which we now enjoy. 
 He was never known to inflict unwonted cruelty upon 
 women and children, as has been charged upon him; 
 and he never was found to torture and mutilate his 
 victim, as many of the traditions would indicate. He 
 was revengeful, because he had suffered deep injury 
 at the hands of that race, and woe to the Indian war- 
 rior who crossed his path. He was literally a man 
 without fear. He was brave as a lion, cunning as a 
 fox; 'daring where daring was the wiser part; pru- 
 dent where discretion was valor's better self.' He 
 seemed to possess in a remarkable degree that intu- 
 itive knowledge which can alone constitute a good 
 hunter, added to which he was sagacious, prompt 
 to act, and always aiming to render his actions 
 efficient." 
 
 In conclusion, we can do no better than introduce 
 the following agreeable and striking poem. It will 
 be read with interest by all who wish to view the 
 
296 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 character of this bold, successful and famous hunter 
 
 at its best:* 
 
 LEWIS WEITZEL. 
 
 Stout-hearted Lewis Weitzel 
 
 Rides down the river shore, 
 The wilderness behind him, 
 
 The wilderness before. 
 
 He rides in the cool -of morning, 
 
 Humming a dear old tune, 
 Into the heart of the greenwood, 
 
 Into the heart of June. 
 
 He needs no guide in the forest 
 
 More than the hunter bees; 
 His guides are the cool green mosses 
 
 To the northward of the trees. 
 
 Nor fears he the foe whose footstep 
 
 Is light as the summer air 
 The tomahawk hangs in his shirt-belt, 
 
 The scalp-knife glitters there ! 
 
 The stealthy Wyandots tremble, 
 
 And speak his name with fear, 
 For his aim is sharp and deadly, 
 
 And his rifle's ring is clear. 
 
 So, pleasantly rides he onward, 
 
 Pausing to hear the stroke 
 Of the settler's ax in the forest, 
 
 Or the crash of a falling oak. 
 
 Pausing at times to gather 
 
 The wild fruit overhead 
 (For in this rarest of June days 
 
 The service-berries are red) ; 
 
 '-Written by Florus B. Plimpton. (See p. 334 of "The Union of American Poetry and 
 Art." Edited by John James Piatt, Cincinnati : W. E. Dibble & Co.) 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 297 
 
 And as he grasps the full boughs 
 
 To bend them down amain, 
 The dew and the blushing berries 
 
 Fall like an April rain. 
 
 The partridge drums on the dry oak, 
 
 The croaking corby caws, 
 The blackbird sings in the spice-bush, 
 
 The robin in the haws; 
 
 And, as they chatter and twitter, 
 
 The wild birds seem to say, 
 "Do not harm us, good Lewis, 
 
 And you shall have luck to-day." 
 
 So, pleasantly rides he onward, 
 
 'Till the shadows mark the noon, 
 Into the leafy greenwood, 
 
 Into the heart of June. 
 
 Now speed thee on, good Lewis, 
 
 For the sultry sun goes down, 
 The hill-side shadows lengthen, 
 
 And the eastern sky is brown. 
 
 Now speed thee where the river 
 
 Creeps slow in the coverts cool, 
 And the lilies nod their white bells 
 
 By the margin of the pool. 
 
 He crosses the silver Kaska 
 
 With its chestnut-covered hills, 
 And the fetlocks of his roan steed 
 
 Are wet in a hundred rills. 
 
 "And there," he cries in transport, 
 
 "The alders greenest grow, 
 Where the wild stag comes for water, , 
 
 And her young fawn leads the doe." 
 
298 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Grasping his trusty rifle, 
 He whistles his dog behind, 
 
 Then stretches his finger upward 
 To know how sets the wind. 
 
 Oh ! steady grows the strong arm, 
 And the hunter's dark eye keen, 
 
 As he sees the branching antlers 
 Through alder thickets green. 
 
 A sharp, clear ring through the greenwood, 
 And with mighty leap and bound, 
 
 The pride of the western forest 
 Lies bleeding on the ground. 
 
 Then out from the leafy shadow 
 
 A stalwart hunter springs, 
 And his unsheathed scalp-knife glittering 
 
 Against his rifle rings. 
 
 "And who art thou," quoth Lewis, 
 "That com'st 'twixt me and mine?" 
 
 And his cheek is flushed with anger, 
 As a Bacchant's flushed with wine. 
 
 "What boots that to thy purpose?" 
 
 The stranger hot replies ; 
 "My rifle marked it living, 
 
 And mine, when dead, the prize." 
 
 Then with sinewy arms they grapple, 
 Like giants fierce in brawls, 
 
 Till stretched along the greensward 
 The humbled hunter falls. 
 
 Upspringing like a panther, 
 He cries, in wrath and pride, 
 
 "Though your arms may be the stronger, 
 Our rifles shall decide,' 1 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 299 
 
 "Stay, stranger," quoth good Lewis. 
 
 "The chances are not even; 
 Who challenges my rifle 
 
 Should be at peace with heaven. 
 
 ' ' Now take this rod of alder, 
 
 Set it by yonder tree 
 A hundred yards beyond me, 
 
 And wait you there and see; 
 
 " For he who dares such peril 
 
 But lightly holds his breath 
 May his unshrived soul be ready 
 
 To welcome sudden death." 
 
 So the stranger takes the alder, 
 
 And wondering stands to view, 
 While Weitzel's aim grows steady, 
 
 And he cuts the rod in two. 
 
 " By heaven !" exclaims the stranger, 
 
 " One only, far or nigh, 
 Hath arms like the lithe young ash-tree, 
 
 Or half so keen an eye ; 
 
 "And that is Lewis Weitzel." 
 
 Quoth Lewis, " Here he stands; " 
 So they speak in gentler manner, 
 
 And clasp their friendly hands. 
 
 Then talk the mighty hunters 
 
 Till the summer dew descends, 
 And they who met as foemen 
 
 Ride out of the greenwood friends ; 
 
 Ride out of the leafy greenwood 
 
 As rises the yellow moon, 
 And the purple hills lie pleasantly 
 
 In the softened air of Tune. 
 13 
 
ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 
 
 'TXDWARD the close of the Revolution the Indian 
 1 allies of the British in the West became very 
 aggressive and troublesome, making frequent attacks 
 on the frontier settlements and destroying much val- 
 uable property, besides killing and taking into captiv- 
 ity a great many of the unfortunate whites. These 
 depredations were continued until the end of the war, 
 and for ten or twelve years afterward, to the no small 
 annoyance and terror of the settlers, whose strength 
 was too feeble to enable them to resist successfully. 
 
 To retaliate on the Indians, and compel them to 
 give over their hostile designs, the government sent 
 a number of formidable expeditions against them, 
 which, however, though under the command of brave 
 and experienced generals, nearly all had a most disas- 
 trous issue. The tribes of the Ohio Valley were unex- 
 celled for audacity, courage and sagaciousness among 
 the American Indians; and the successful war which 
 they waged for many years with the armies of the 
 civilized and courageous whites, who, by a trying ex- 
 perience, had gained a thorough knowledge of sav- 
 age warfare, and were therefore able to meet them 
 on theii own ground, is sufficient proof that they were 
 fully entitled to the advantage which they so long 
 maintained. 
 
 <*oo) 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 30! 
 
 One of the most memorable of the earlier expedi- 
 tions against the Indians was that undertaken by 
 George Rogers Clarke, in the year lySr. General 
 Clarke, at the time of which we speak, resided at 
 the Falls of the Ohio, where he was in command of 
 Fort Nelson, the head-quarters of the military depart- 
 ment of the West, of which he was the head. The 
 immediate object of his expedition was to counteract 
 the effect produced by the crushing defeat of the 
 whites, at the battle of Blue Licks, a short time pre- 
 vious. He proposed that a force of about one thou- 
 sand men should be raised from among the settlers 
 in Ohio and Kentucky, and rendezvous at Cincinnati, 
 where he promised to join it with a part of an Illi- 
 nois regiment together with such other troops as he 
 might be able to muster. This proposition was 
 agreed to, and General Clarke proceeded to perfect 
 his plans for the campaign. 
 
 Indefatigable in his efforts, he determined to spare 
 no means for gaining a complete victory and reducing 
 the Indians at once to subjection. Among other 
 parts of the country laid under contribution was 
 Western Pennsylvania, which he visited in the sum- 
 mer of 1781. Here he soon raised a body of men, 
 whom he proposed to lead to the rendezvous at 
 Cincinnati. 
 
 Among those who were particularly active in ren- 
 dering him the aid which he solicited was Colonel 
 Archibald Laughery, the county lieutenant of West- 
 moreland County, Pennsylvania. In a short time, 
 chiefly at his own expense, this intrepid officer 
 
302 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 succeeded in mustering about one hundred volun 
 teers, and, after rendezvousing at Carnahan's block- 
 house, about six days' march from Wheeling, he set 
 out with his men to join General Clarke, who, with 
 the main force, had agreed to wait at the last-named 
 place. 
 
 Next in command to Colonel Laughery was Captain 
 Robert Orr, an Irishman by birth, who, with his supe- 
 rior officer, had provided the means necessary for the 
 expedition. Among the other officers was the brave 
 Captain Shannon, a man who stood high in the 
 esteem of Colonel Laughery, being intrusted by him 
 with many of the more important concerns of the 
 expedition. 
 
 In the company of Captain Shannon was a young 
 officer, Isaac Anderson by name, who, having fin- 
 ished an active and creditable service in the Conti- 
 nental army, had come to Pennsylvania in search of 
 new fields of military enterprise. As it is our inten- 
 tion to relate for the edification of our readers a part 
 of the subsequent career of this young man, it will 
 not be out of place to give a brief account of his 
 previous history. 
 
 Isaac Anderson came to America in the year 1774, 
 at the age of sixteen. He was born of respectable 
 Irish parents, but, as both his father and mother died 
 while he was quite young, he grew up without any one 
 to provide for his education or direct him in his future 
 course. He possessed, however, even at this youth- 
 ful age, very marked individuality and self-reliance, 
 and, taking to studying, acquired considerable pro- 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 303 
 
 ficiency in mathematics, and a mastery of the art of 
 surveying. 
 
 Arriving in America, he, choosing to rely on his 
 own exertions, declined an invitation extended him 
 by some of his relatives in Virginia to join them. He 
 went to Pennsylvania, where he remained until the 
 outbreak of the war, when, at the age of eighteen, 
 he shouldered his gun, joined a volunteer rifle regi- 
 ment, and commenced active service in behalf of the 
 country of his adoption. 
 
 Young Anderson soon found ample opportunity of 
 exercising his adventurous spirit. He participated 
 in some of the most sanguine and momentous con- 
 flicts of the war. He was present at both of the 
 bloody battles near Saratoga, and was one of ^ the 
 proud and fortunate spectators of the surrender of 
 Burgoyne to the American general, Gates ; and 
 throughout the war the regiment to which he be- 
 longed was kept constantly in active service, bearing 
 itself with high honor in numerous general engage- 
 ments, and being frequently dispatched to perform 
 important duties of a special character. 
 
 On one occasion, when out on a scouting expedition, 
 the regiment was attacked by a British force very 
 much superior in numbers and equipment. A stout 
 resistance was made, and the skirmish which followed 
 was sharp and very severe; but the Americans were 
 badly beaten and retreated precipitously, leaving their 
 dead and wounded on the field. Anderson had 
 fought with great courage, exposing himself fre- 
 quently to the fire of the enemy. The result of his 
 
304 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 daring was, that he received a most dangerous 
 wound from a musket-ball, which passed in at one 
 cheek and out at the other, crushing a number of his 
 teeth; and so severe were its effects that he fell to 
 the ground, bleeding, unconscious, and apparently 
 dead. 
 
 It was the middle of winter. The weather was 
 deathly cold, and the snow lay on the frozen ground 
 in great drifts. Night was approaching, and a party 
 of men was sent out by the British officer to take 
 the wounded from the field, the removal of the 
 dead being left until the next morning. Anderson 
 still lay in a state of unconsciousness, and, as he 
 gave no sign of life, was left on the ground as dead. 
 Presently the night came, on, and with it the British 
 soldiers left their camp to visit the battle-field and 
 secure the spoils of victory. 
 
 Some of the plunderers, examining the body of 
 Anderson, found his clothing to be thick and in good 
 condition, and accordingly stripped it off, leaving 
 him in the bitter night with scarcely a garment to 
 cover him. Reviving after awhile, he shouted for 
 assistance as loud as his enfeebled condition would 
 permit him ; but his cries were not heard, and, faint 
 from the loss of blood, chilled and numb in every 
 limb, and almost perishing from the torments which 
 he suffered on account of his wound, he lay on the 
 earth until morning, when the British soldiers came 
 to remove and bury the dead. 
 
 Anderson was now taken into camp, carried to 
 Philadelphia, and placed under the care of a very 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 305 
 
 skillful surgeon, whom he found to be an Irishman 
 who had come from his own county. With this man 
 Anderson contracted a very intimate friendship, and 
 from him he received the most particular and con- 
 siderate attention, soon being restored to almost per- 
 fect health. The surgeon proved himself to be in- 
 deed a true friend ; for, when the British evacuated 
 Philadelphia, at three o'clock on the morning of the 
 1 8th of June, 1778, he reported Anderson to the 
 superintending surgeon as severely ill ; and the youth 
 was thus permitted to remain in his berth in the hos- 
 pital. After the British had left, Anderson sprang 
 from his bed, drew on his clothes, and started on a 
 run for the American camp, happy in the thought 
 that he was again free and ready for new adventures. 
 
 During the principal part of the three following 
 years Isaac Anderson was with his regiment in vari- 
 ous campaigns. In that of New Jersey in particular 
 he bore a most active part, fighting in a great many 
 pitched battles. He grew to be a very expert marks- 
 man; and, as he afterward frequently stated, at the 
 famous battle of Monmouth Court House he dis- 
 charged his rifle with aim thirty-two times. 
 
 On hearing, shortly after his arrival in Western 
 Pennsylvania, of the proposed expedition to join 
 General Clarke in his campaign against the Indians, 
 Anderson immediately, and with great alacrity, sig- 
 nified his willingness to become one of the number. 
 He was also influential in persuading others to en- 
 list ; and, partly in recognition of his Revolutionary 
 services, and partly in reward of the material aid 
 
306 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 which he had rendered in obtaining volunteers, he 
 was raised from the ranks and given the first-lieu- 
 tenancy in the company of Captain Shannon. 
 
 Colonel Laughery, with the force under his com- 
 mand, started, on the second day of August, 1781, 
 from Carnahan's block-house and pushed forward in 
 the direction of Wheeling, hoping to arrive in time 
 to proceed with General Clarke and the army. Their 
 march lay through a wild region, which was crossed 
 by numerous streams, and their progress was natu- 
 rally slow. Wheeling was reached on the 8th of 
 August, but the adventurers found that they were 
 too late, since General Clarke, tired of waiting, had 
 gone ahead, leaving behind one of his officers with 
 a few men and a boat for transporting the horses of 
 Laughery's detachment, but without ammunition or 
 provisions. Instructions were given for Laughery 
 and his men to proceed immediately and join the 
 main division at the mouth of the Kanawha River. 
 The soldiers accordingly embarked on their boats 
 and the journey was resumed. On their arrival at 
 the appointed place they found that General Clarke 
 had once more been forced to proceed alone. He 
 had, however, left a letter attached to a pole, and in 
 this he stated that he could not afford to wait, for fear 
 of desertion among his men, and directed Laughery 
 to follow him to the Falls of the Ohio. 
 
 Again the venturous band continued on their way. 
 The river was very low ; the voyagers knew nothing 
 of its channel, and the boats were rude and unwieldy, 
 having been made for temporary use merely. Prog- 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 307 
 
 ress was therefore very tedious, and the most that 
 could be hoped was that, after a slow passage, ren- 
 dered still slower by unavoidable delays, the Falls 
 of the Ohio might be safely reached. 
 
 The prospect of consuming many days of valuable 
 time in a journey which they had hoped to make ex- 
 peditiously was discouraging enough, even if for no 
 other reason than that it was highly important to 
 the success of the undertaking that General Clarke 
 should be joined without delay. But when they re- 
 membered that the country through which they had 
 to pass was infested by hostile tribes, who could 
 scarcely fail to receive information of the separation 
 of the detachment from the main body, and of its com- 
 parative weakness, and who therefore would watch 
 their opportunities of attack, the voyagers naturally 
 felt very serious apprehensions concerning their safety. 
 
 To add to the doubts which they now began to 
 entertain, and increase their concern to alarm and 
 terror, their store of provisions and forage ran short 
 and their ammunition became nearly exhausted. The 
 only means of obtaining fresh supplies was by draw- 
 ing on the stores carried by General Clarke. Colonel 
 Laughery accordingly dispatched Captain Shannon 
 and seven men in a small boat, with instructions to 
 travel without intermission night and day, overtake 
 the general, secure from him the quantities neces- 
 sary, and return with all speed. 
 
 Captain Shannon departed on his mission and the 
 rest of the men continued on their way. The trials 
 of the adventurers now began in earnest. Each 
 
308 THE BACK-WOOCSMEN. 
 
 soldier was placed on short allowance; and, close 
 calculations being made, it was found that the pany 
 could barely subsist on the provisions in store until 
 Shannon's return, which was expected to be in the 
 course of a few days. Should he fail to appear at 
 the end of that time the only recourse was to pro- 
 ceed day and night until General Clarke should be 
 overtaken, or else to depend for support upon the 
 product of the forest. 
 
 The day after Captain Shannon's departure an in- 
 cident occurred which greatly depressed the spirits 
 of the soldiers, raised for a time by hopeful antici- 
 pation. Two men were sent out to hunt, with the 
 understanding that they were to rejoin their com- 
 panions at an appointed place about dusk. A short 
 time after they had left their rifles were heard at a 
 distance, and during the afternoon the reports con- 
 tinued, each time in the immediate neighborhood. 
 The hour for return arrived, but the men failed to 
 appear. Guns were discharged in order to direct 
 them in their course if they had wandered astray, 
 and diligent search was made in various directions, 
 but all without result, and the party at length went 
 on their way, concluding that their companions had 
 been killed or taken prisoners by the Indians. This 
 incident had a most disheartening effect on the weary 
 and discouraged voyagers, who now began to real- 
 ize the perils of their undertaking, and, as they pro- 
 ceeded down the river, grew every moment more 
 fearful that they were being drawn closer and closer 
 into the dreaded Indian ambush. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 309 
 
 The second and third days since the departure of 
 Captain Shannon and his men passed, and still the 
 anxious voyagers looked in vain for the returning 
 canoe. The fourth day dawned, and with it hope 
 well-nigh gave way to despair. It was now de- 
 termined to travel as rapidly as possible, without 
 stopping even for rest, and the canoes pushed for- 
 ward bravely. 
 
 Toward the middle of this day they were hailed 
 by two men on shore, who, to their amazement, 
 proved to belong to the party of Captain Shannon. 
 They were very ragged and presented a most pitia- 
 ble appearance ; and the story which they told was 
 in no way calculated to allay the fears of their now 
 thoroughly alarmed friends. 
 
 It appears that, on the first or second day after 
 they had left their companions, Captain Shannon 
 and his men put ashore on a low, sandy beach, a 
 short distance below the mouth of the Scioto. Here 
 they built a fire; and, while the captain and four 
 men remained to cook their dinner and guard the 
 boats, the other three took their rifles and went out 
 in the woods to hunt. They had gone a distance 
 of about half a mile when suddenly to their great 
 alarm they heard a volley of musket shots fired in 
 quick succession, the noise coming from the direc- 
 tion of the camp. They stopped short, listening in 
 breathless suspense. Instantly the firing was re- 
 peated, followed by a shrill whoop, the unmistakable 
 indication of an Indian attack. Knowing that any 
 attempt to rescue their companions would be fruit- 
 
3IO THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 less, since the Indians evidently were much superior 
 to them in numbers, the three men, giving up their 
 pursuit of game, started on a hard run up the river, 
 seeking to escape and rejoin Colonel Laughery. 
 
 The leader of the fugitives was a young sergeant, 
 a very gallant, handsome, and athletic fellow, who 
 had- borne himself with great credit under many 
 trying circumstances. This man, on hearing the re- 
 port of the rifles, had instinctively drawn his knife, 
 as if to defend himself, and, starting to run, had 
 again thrust it in his belt, but so carelessly that it 
 hung loosely, and, slipping out, fell to the ground. 
 Just at that moment, rushing impetuously forward, 
 he stepped on the keen edge, and the knife ran 
 directly through his foot, almost dividing it in two. 
 He instantly dropped senseless, and a few moments 
 after expired from excessive loss of blood. 
 
 His two companions stopped only long enough 
 to close his eyes, not daring to remain to bury the 
 corpse, fearing that, if they did so, their enemies 
 "would be upon them. That night they slept and 
 watched by turns, and the next morning resumed 
 their flight. Although nearly famished they scarcely 
 dared to discharge their rifles at game, being con- 
 vinced, from the numbers of the Indians who had 
 assailed their companions, as well as from other 
 reasons, that they were in constant danger of attack 
 by lurking savages. Making the best of their way 
 through the forest they at length met, as already 
 stated, the friends from whom they had parted four 
 days previous. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON ^ I I 
 
 \J 
 
 From the alarming reports given by the fugitives, 
 the voyagers now became fully persuaded that the 
 woods swarmed with Indians thirsting for their blood. 
 To return was, however, out of the question, and 
 they proceeded with as great rapidity as their 
 wretched crafts would permit, exercising every vig- 
 ilance, and determining, like brave men, if attacked, 
 to maintain a courageous stand and sell their lives as 
 dearly as possible. 
 
 A short time after taking up the two men of Shan- 
 non's party, their attention was attracted by the 
 crackling of bushes at some distance, and the sound 
 of voices. A halt was promptly called, and the 
 boats were rowed to the shore. The men disem- 
 barked and concealed themselves behind the trees, 
 waiting for their enemies. Presently a party of men 
 appeared, but, greatly to the surprise of the expect- 
 ant soldiers, these, instead of being Indians, proved 
 to be whites. Colonel Laughery instantly ordered 
 his band to take the offensive, and challenging the 
 deserters for such he rightly judged them to be 
 ordered them to surrender. The order was obeyed, 
 and the men, nineteen in number, confessed that they 
 had made their escape from General Clarke, and 
 were on their way home. Not caring to encumber 
 himself with these cowardly fellows, and being too 
 merciful to enforce strict military discipline under 
 the circumstances, Laughery permitted them to con- 
 tinue unmolested. 
 
 Resuming their voyage down the river, the men 
 strained every effort to push the boats forward rap- 
 
312 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 idly, and, while some plied the oars, the others kept 
 their rifles in their hands, ready to resist any assault. 
 They traveled for forty-eight hours almost without 
 stoppage, but, at length, seeing no Indians, and giv- 
 ing up for awhile their fears, they determined to land, 
 prepare a hearty meal, and secure sufficient game to 
 furnish provisions for the remainder of the journey. 
 
 About ten o'clock, on the morning of the 24th of 
 August, they put to shore at a very beautiful spot 
 near the mouth of a small creek (now called Laugh- 
 ery's Creek), in the south-eastern part of Indiana. 
 Congratulating themselves on their fancied success in 
 eluding the Indians, they felt comparatively secure, 
 and accordingly went to work to accomplish the de- 
 sign on which they were bent, thinking of very little 
 else. While some built fires to cook the provisions 
 that might be obtained, others dispersed in search of 
 game. The diligence of the hunters was soon amply 
 rewarded. An immense buffalo was killed by one of 
 the party, and carried into the camp, where it was 
 skinned and prepared for roasting, while the men 
 busied themselves in gathering wood and feeding the 
 flames which were to cook them the bountiful meal 
 for which they all longed so eagerly. 
 
 While thus occupied, insensible of danger, and 
 wholly unprepared for resisting an attack, the loud 
 report of a hundred rifles was suddenly heard, and at 
 the same instant a murderous volley of bullets fell in 
 their midst. Before they had time to recover from 
 their surprise and assume the defensive, the Indians, 
 to the number of four or five score, rushed from the 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 313 
 
 adjoining woods, and, brandishing their tomahawks, 
 advanced with unearthly yells to dispatch those who 
 had survived the fire. The whites defended them- 
 selves as long as their ammunition lasted, and then 
 fled precipitately to their boats and plied their oars 
 vigorously, striving to gain the Kentucky shore. But 
 before they had fairly launched, they saw, to theif 
 dismay, a number of canoes, filled with Indian war- 
 . riors, put out from the opposite bank. They now 
 found that while endeavoring to escape danger in 
 the rear, they were inviting a worse danger ahead ; for 
 the Indians on the river opened a merciless fire, and, 
 powerless to longer defend themselves, the whites 
 threw down their arms and begged for quarter. 
 
 Surrender now followed, and the Indians bound 
 their prisoners (sixty in number), and marched them 
 about eight miles up the river, where they encamped 
 with them through the night. 
 
 The results of the battle, if, indeed, it can be 
 given this name, were most disastrous. The attack 
 was completely successful, and not one. man escaped 
 to join General Clarke or return home. A number 
 were wantonly killed after being taken prisoners, and 
 among these was the heroic leader of the expedi- 
 tion, Colonel Laughery. All of the wounded who 
 were not able to walk were instantly tomahawked 
 and scalped. The entire number of men taken into 
 captivity was forty-one, of whom five were officers 
 and thirty-six privates. 
 
 The ambush had been laid by the Indians with 
 the most consummate skill, They had been ap- 
 
314 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 prised of the approach of the large force led by Gen- 
 eral Clarke, and had at first intended to attack it, but, 
 being informed that it was defended by a brass can- 
 non, an instrument of warfare which they held in 
 superstitious dread, had abandoned their design. 
 After the passage of General Clarke and his men 
 down the river, they had lurked in the neighborhood, 
 watching for stragglers. Their vigilance was soon 
 rewarded by the capture of Captain Shannon and 
 four of his men. On searching the person of Shan- 
 non they found the letter which had been written by 
 Colonel Laughery to General Clarke, requesting sup- 
 plies. This letter they were unable to read, and 
 neither their threats nor their blows could persuade 
 any of their captives to translate it. Proceeding 
 down the river with their prisoners, they met a party 
 of deserters, one of whom translated the letter, and, 
 to ingratiate himself with the Indians, volunteered 
 other valuable information; so that, while Colonel 
 Laughery's detachment was journeying by easy stages, 
 fondly hoping to soon receive abundance of pro- 
 visions and ammunition, their enemies were assem- 
 bling in force and laying the plans of attack and 
 capture. 
 
 The Indians chose a position of great natural 
 strength, a few miles below Laughery's Creek, as 
 the point of attack. Here they concealed their 
 canoes in the bushes, and disposed themselves on 
 both sides of the river, awaiting the appearance of 
 the whites. They calculated on capturing the whole 
 party without a struggle, and to this end placed their 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 315 
 
 prisoners in a conspicuous position on the Indiana 
 shore, commanding them to hail the boats as they 
 passed, and advise their companions to surrender. 
 But being informed by their runners that Laughery 
 and his men had put ashore at the mouth of the 
 creek, and were totally unprepared for attack, one 
 party of the Indians marched up the stream, while 
 the other launched the boats and awaited the signal 
 of attack, when they rowed swiftly to the concerted 
 place, arriving just in time to intercept the fugitives. 
 
 Under the escort of their Indian captors, the prison- 
 ers were marched rapidly through the wilderness in the 
 direction of Chillicothe, at that time one of the most 
 important of the Indian villages in the Ohio Valley. 
 They were subjected to the harshest treatment all 
 being tightly pinioned, and obliged to walk many 
 miles without intermission or refreshment. The In- 
 dians in whose hands they had fallen were cruel and 
 barbarous beyond measure, and, whenever a prisoner 
 showed the slightest fatigue, or the least disposition 
 to murmur, did not scruple to strike their tom- 
 ahawks into his head, scalp him, and leave him dead 
 in the path. 
 
 Two days after the battle on the Ohio, the party 
 was joined by a reinforcement of one hundred white 
 men and three hundred Indians, and, the following 
 day, the whole body of Indian and white warriors, 
 with the exception of a sufficient force left to guard 
 the prisoners, turned and retraced their steps, it hav- 
 ing been determined to proceed in force against the 
 
 white settlements of Kentucky. 
 19 
 
31 6 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Alter their departure the prisoners, guarded by a 
 detachment of eighteen British soldiers, commanded 
 by a young sergeant, lay in camp for eighteen days. 
 At the end of this time a portion of the troops un- 
 der the command of Captain Thompson returned, 
 having had a successful expedition and wrought 
 much damage. The march was then resumed, and 
 four days after the party arrived at Chillicothe, 
 where all but six were left with the Indians, and 
 whence the remaining six were taken in the course 
 of a few days by way of the Shawnee villages on 
 the Auglaize River to Detroit. 
 
 The recognized leader of the weak and disheart- 
 ened captive band was the young man whose his 
 tory we have given in brief, and whose adventures 
 we are now about to relate. During the journey 
 down the Ohio, Isaac Anderson had shown himself 
 to possess remarkable powers of endurance, as well 
 as great judgment and sagacity. He was among 
 the first to urge upon Colonel Laughery the neces- 
 sity of traveling by night, and it was owing greatly 
 to his influence that discipline had been preserved 
 among the discouraged and murmuring soldiers. 
 When the hungry voyagers landed, on the fatal 
 morning of the 24th, he had endeavored in vain to 
 impress upon his companions that danger was not 
 yet over, and to induce Colonel Laughery to station 
 guards around the encampment and keep a sufficient 
 body of men under arms. When the attack was 
 made by the Indians, he was one of the few who 
 acted with deliberation ; and, during the brief con- 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 317 
 
 test which followed, he conducted himself with such 
 coolness as not only to be singled out by his sur- 
 viving companions as their most competent leader, 
 but also to obtain from his captors recognition as a 
 brave and daring man, \vho, unless well secured and 
 carefully watched, might give them much trouble. 
 In the march through the wilderness Anderson had 
 borne the fatigues and hardships incident to the 
 journey with great fortitude, and, while at Chilli- 
 cothe, had been selected by the Indians as one who 
 would afford them great entertainment in running 
 the gauntlet. In this ordeal Anderson was .badly 
 beaten, the Indians laying on their blows most un- 
 mercifully; and, when the journey was again re- 
 sumed, he was so stiff and sore from the bruises 
 which he had received that he was hardly able to walk. 
 
 From the Shawnee towns the party marched 
 through a swampy and very unhealthful country 
 toward Detroit. On October 4th, 1781, they ar- 
 rived in the country of the Mohawks, and here they 
 were left by Captain Thompson, their former con- 
 ductor, among the Indians, who agreed to take 
 them the rest of the way. Seven days later their 
 destination was reached, and they were taken into 
 the citadel, given good quarters, decently clothed, 
 and allowed the liberty of going where they pleased 
 in the town until the 4th of November. 
 
 From Detroit the prisoners were taken by way 
 of the lakes to Montreal, where they arrived, after 
 a very stormy voyage, in about three weeks' time, 
 and were delivered to General Spike, the command- 
 
318 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ing- officer, who ordered them to be placed in close 
 confinement. 
 
 The captives now passed through an experience, 
 as prisoners of war, in which they were called upon 
 to exercise all of their endurance, and compared with 
 which their former trials, though severe, we're re- 
 garded by them as pleasures. Confined in dark 
 and damp rooms, loaded with chains, and placed on 
 the scantest and most unwholesome diet, they often 
 longed to return to the forest and be subjected again 
 to the savage treatment of the brutal Indians. A 
 brave man may endure blows, or suffer the extremes 
 of acute pain without a murmur; but when placed in 
 solitary confinement, fettered and reduced to childish 
 helplessness, existence becomes irksome and death is 
 a welcome relief. 
 
 For six months the unfortunate prisoners lay, heav- 
 ily chained, in the British dungeons. During this 
 period they frequently applied to their jailers for 
 better quarters and more humane treatment, but 
 each time their requests were denied. Seeing that 
 there was no prospect of gaining what they desired, 
 and regarding death as preferable to their unhappy 
 situation, they at length determined to seek an op- 
 portunity of escape, and accordingly set about to 
 devise the ways and means of effecting their object. 
 
 The prison in which they were confined was a low, 
 long building, situated in St. Mark's parish, at some 
 distance from the town, and surrounded by high 
 pickets. It was in charge of a vigilant jailer, who, 
 during the day-time, had only two or three guards 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 319 
 
 to assist him. At night, however, it was more care- 
 fully watched, several soldiers being stationed around 
 it, and a number of sentinels, who were posted along 
 the pickets, having it in constant view. 
 
 Learning the nature of the surroundings, Ander- 
 son, who took upon himself the conduct of the en- 
 terprise, was not long in laying his plans. He con- 
 cluded that an attempt to escape by night would be 
 attended with great hazard ; for, although he and his 
 five companions might succeed in knocking down the 
 guards and sentinels, an outcry would instantly be 
 raised, the town would be alarmed, and they would 
 speedily be retaken. He concluded, therefore, that 
 the only feasible plan was to make the effort in the 
 day-time, when they would be unperceived from with- 
 out, since no one would be on the watch, and since, 
 on account of the isolation of the spot, they would 
 stand in no danger of being seen from the garrison. 
 
 His next care was to throw the guards off their 
 watch, and impress them with the idea that their 
 prisoners had become reconciled to the situation, 
 and entertained no thought of successful escape. 
 In this endeavor he succeeded beyond expectation. 
 The guards, seeing that the men were submissive 
 and no longer complained of their hardships, gradu- 
 ally allowed them greater freedom, and at length 
 associated with them on familiar terms. Growing 
 less and less watchful, they finally permitted them 
 the freedom of the premises ; and since, like all sol- 
 diers, they were lovers of the bottle, made them their 
 companions in their convivial moods. 
 
32O THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 
 
 One morning toward the close of May, 1782, 
 Anderson, seeing his jailers to be more friendly 
 and less vigilant than usual, proposed a drinking 
 bout. This was agreed to; the bottle was passed 
 round, and before long the soldiers were all stretched 
 out senseless on the floor, leaving their prisoners, 
 who had imbibed less freely, to come and go at 
 freedom. 
 
 While one of the party made a careful reconnois- 
 sance, the others quickly visited the jailer's room in 
 search of weapons and provisions. Unfortunately, 
 however, they obtained only a few knives and toma- 
 hawks and a scant stock of food ; but, though they 
 were disappointed, they secured something which 
 was no less valuable than what they sought, a 
 small compass. 
 
 Finding the coast clear, the adventurers now scaled 
 the pickets, and started down the island on which the 
 city of Montreal stands. It was about two o'clock in 
 the afternoon, and, as they were not yet out of dan- 
 ger, they were obliged to proceed with great circum- 
 spection, knowing that, if they fled precipitately, any 
 one who chanced to see them would guess their pur- 
 pose and give the alarm. 
 
 Soon after they had left the prison, they met a 
 party of three British soldiers on horseback, just 
 returning from a hunting expedition. Anderson 
 instructed his men to preserve silence, unless spoken 
 to, and then, accosting the soldiers civilly, asked 
 how far he had to go until he should reach Montreal. 
 This inquiry gave the British much merriment, and 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON, 321 
 
 one of them, as soon as he could command his 
 gravity, very seriously told his interlocutor that, after 
 traveling ten miles further in the direction in which 
 he was going, he would reach a small trading station, 
 and that he must there inquire for a guide, who 
 would take him through the wilderness the rest of 
 the way, and bring him to his destination, if the 
 weather proved favorable, in about two days' time. 
 Anderson received this information with a very puz- 
 zled expression of countenance, remarking that he 
 had fancied himself to be in the immediate vicinity 
 of the city, and had hoped to reach it before dusk. 
 At this the soldiers laughed heartily, and went on 
 their way, turning around frequently to look back at 
 the men, whom they saw standing still, and appar- 
 ently debating with great earnestness whether they 
 should proceed or return. 
 
 When the soldiers were out of sight, the fugitives 
 went on their way, congratulating themselves on the 
 successful issue of the adventure. At a point a few 
 miles further on, they crossed the St. Lawrence, and 
 then struck out through the forest, steering, by the 
 aid of their compass, in the direction of the Sorel 
 River, which they reached and crossed toward 
 evening. 
 
 About midnight they came to a Frenchman's dwell- 
 ing, and here Anderson ordered a halt. Taking with 
 him one of his companions, he broke open the barn 
 and loosed two of the horses. He then killed two 
 lambs, and, throwing them over the backs of the 
 horses, rejoined his companions. The party rode 
 
322 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 hard all night, and, on the following morning, halted, 
 built a fire, and skinned and barbecued the lambs. 
 After satisfying their appetites, they rested for 
 awhile, and then went ahead with their horses, but 
 had gone only about five miles, when they came to a 
 very swampy country, where, finding that they could 
 make no progress, they were obliged to turn their 
 horses loose and proceed on foot. 
 
 This day they marched without stopping. Travel- 
 ing in an easterly direction, they reached, about the 
 middle of the afternoon, the river Missisque, which 
 they crossed on a rude raft, and then went ahead 
 two miles, when they halted and encamped for the 
 night. 
 
 They had now placed themselves out of the reach 
 of pursuit, and felt comparatively secure; but they 
 knew that, although there was little danger of being 
 overtaken, they still had many risks to encounter, 
 since the country through which they were to pass 
 was held by the British, and that, therefore, they 
 must avoid all towns and settlements, and, instead of 
 following the courses of the large streams, preserve 
 their route through the wilderness. 
 
 In spite of their precautions, however, they came, 
 on one occasion, very near being recaptured. They 
 had risen before daybreak, and were marching, as 
 they thought, through a desolate, unsettled country, 
 when they suddenly heard, directly ahead of them, 
 the sound of a drum, beating the reveille. Peering 
 through the trees, they saw an English block- house 
 at the distance of a few rods. A band of soldiers 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 323 
 
 was drawn up outside, and, had the men gone a few 
 steps further, they would have been instantly discov- 
 ered, pursued, taken, and again placed in confine- 
 ment. 
 
 The journey through the wilderness was attended 
 with trials and privations of a singularly distressing 
 and disheartening character. Although the spring of 
 the year was nearing a close, the season was very 
 backward. The nights were extremely cold, and on 
 some of the mountains the snow lay quite deep. Nu- 
 merous creeks and rivers, swollen by heavy rains, 
 obstructed their progress, and nearly all of these 
 were so deep that they could not be forded, and rafts 
 had to be built to give the means of passage. 
 
 The terrible distresses for want of food which the 
 men had suffered while journeying down the Ohio, 
 were now again to be experienced. On the 3ist of 
 May, 1782, five days after their escape, the scanty 
 stock of provisions which they had taken with them 
 became exhausted. They had no guns with which to 
 shoot game, and, as they were in a hostile country, 
 they did not dare to apply for relief in any of the 
 settlements, lest they shouid be immediately appre- 
 hended and sent into captivity. Consequently, it 
 was not long before they reached the verge of starva- 
 tion. Famished and almost perishing, they were 
 obliged to kill and eat their dog; and, so great were 
 their necessities, that, after they had consumed the 
 animal, they had nothing on which to subsist but 
 roots and reptiles. 
 
 While in this terrible condition, another misfort- 
 
324 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 une, equally calamitous in its nature, befell them. 
 One evening-, after journeying all day through a com- 
 paratively open country, guiding their course by the 
 sun, they found, on searching their baggage, that 
 they had lost their compass. Far from friends and 
 country, without supplies of any kind, and weary, 
 footsore, and dejected, the terrible thought now 
 dawned upon them that their doom had at last been 
 pronounced, and that nothing was left but to lie down 
 in the forest and wait for death. This, indeed, must 
 have been their lot, had not the weather proved pro- 
 pitious. On the following day the sun rose bright, 
 and by its assistance they were enabled to continue 
 on their way, although still suffering, from the want 
 of food, the extremes of bodily agony. 
 
 For the next few days the journey was slow and 
 painful. The rivers were numerous, and their cur- 
 rents very strong, and rafts had to be made at each 
 stream to carry them across. The weather was, 
 for awhile, very cloudy, and the travelers were 
 obliged to follow the course of the rivers, which they 
 could now do with safety, for they knew that they 
 had gained, by this time, the basin of the Con- 
 necticut. 
 
 On the night of the fifth of June, the travel- 
 ers had reached the extreme point of fatigue, hun' 
 ger, and distress. Their powers of endurance had 
 been strained to the utmost, and they were now con- 
 vinced that nothing remained for them but to give 
 up in despair. Their moccasins had been entirely 
 worn out, and, to proceed over the rough, rocky 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 325 
 
 ground without some covering for their feet, was out 
 of the question. They had eaten nothing during the 
 day, and how to procure an evening meal was a 
 problem to which there seemed to be no solution. 
 
 While they were in this dilemma, one of the men 
 who had been out in search of food, returned, bring- 
 ing with him some toads which he had caught. 
 These were roasted and divided among the men, 
 who all ate voraciously. Soon after, every member 
 of the .party was taken deathly sick. The vile stuff 
 which they had consumed acted on their shattered 
 constitutions as a powerful poison, and, writhing with 
 intense pain, they lay through the night, expecting 
 every moment that the next would be their last. 
 
 The effects of the unwholesome food were not, 
 however, sufficiently deleterious to endanger their 
 lives. On the following morning they arose, and, 
 though greatly weakened, made a shift to continue 
 their journey. They had contrived, the evening be- 
 fore, to replace their worn-out moccasins by rough 
 temporary ones, made from their leggins, and, resolv- 
 ing to proceed as long as there was life in their 
 bodies, they again pushed forward. 
 
 Toward the end of this day, to their great joy, 
 they reached an American settlement, where 'they 
 were given refreshments by the inhabitants, and 
 halted for a few hours. Resuming their journey 
 the same night, they came to the Connecticut 
 River; and, anxious to be again within bounds of 
 civilization, crossed it and after a few hours' rest 
 continued on their way. 
 
326 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Arrived on American soil, among countrymen and 
 friends, the travelers now felt that their hardships 
 were over. They still, however, had many long 
 and weary miles to go and much fatigue to endure ; 
 but having borne, for the sake of freedom, all the 
 privations and terrors of the wilderness, they were 
 not disposed to murmur at any slight trials which 
 they might be obliged to undergo before obtain- 
 ing the full fruition of their hopes. They marched 
 down the Connecticut to a point several miles from 
 its mouth, where they crossed it and proceeded 
 direct to Philadelphia, and thence to their homes 
 in Western Pennsylvania, arriving at their desti- 
 nation on the 1 6th day of July, 1782, nearly two 
 months after their escape from Montreal. 
 
 The rest of the men who were taken by the In- 
 dians at Laughery's defeat were held in captivity 
 until the next year, when the conclusion of the 
 treaty of peace between Great Britain and the 
 United States set them free. Their experience, 
 though very trying, was less eventful than that of 
 Anderson and his companions, and has therefore 
 been omitted from the present narrative. 
 
 Isaac Anderson afterward removed to Butler 
 County, Ohio, where he purchased a tract of land, 
 and resided until his death in 1839. He was a man 
 of considerable prominence. An account of his 
 subsequent life is given in Mr. James McBride's 
 "Pioneer Biography," to which we refer those of 
 our readers who may desire to know more pf him. 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 
 
 THE object of the present work is not so much 
 to give full and exhaustive accounts of particular 
 individuals, as to present, in an attractive form, some 
 of the most interesting and characteristic incidents 
 in the lives of famous adventurers, illustrative of 
 the struggles, privations, virtues, and heroism of 
 the early Western settlers. The work possesses, 
 therefore, less of the biographical than of the nar- 
 rative character; and the sketches which it contains, 
 although they have been made as full as circum- 
 stances would permit, advance very few pretensions 
 to biographical completeness. 
 
 The lives of Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton, 
 the two most famous of the Western pioneers, are 
 so replete with incident that, with a due regard to 
 the requirements of this work, it is impossible tc 
 relate them at length. In our accounts of these 
 adventurers we have, therefore, instead of giving 
 connected narratives, introduced only a few of the 
 more interesting incidents in their careers. It is 
 hoped that our readers will find the method which 
 we have adopted equally pleasing, if not equally in- 
 structive, with that which has usually been employed. 
 
 Daniel Boone was born in Western Pennsylvania, 
 
 (? 2 7) 
 
328 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 August 22, 1734, of respectable parents. While 
 Daniel was still a boy his father removed to the 
 banks of the Yadkin, in North Carolina. From 
 early youth he led a roving and adventurous life ; 
 and, growing up in the wilderness, became so 
 accustomed to privation, and so inured to hard- 
 ships and trials of all kinds, that his only desire 
 was to avoid the paths of quiet and ease, follow 
 the haunts of the hunter, and live and die in his 
 native forests. 
 
 In 1767, Findley, the celebrated adventurer, re- 
 turned from a long and dangerous journey to the 
 West with glowing reports of the exceeding beauty, 
 fertility, and grandeur of the country which he had 
 visited. He spoke in terms of unbounded enthu- 
 siasm of its immense resources ; and in language 
 calculated to fill the soul of the hunter with de- 
 light, described the wonders of the expanseless do- 
 main, which he said was filled with innumerable 
 herds of buffalo and deer, and occupied by the. 
 greatest abundance of small game in the most in- 
 conceivable variety. 
 
 Findley's account of this beautiful and boundless 
 hunting-ground acted like a charm on the mind of 
 so bold an adventurer and so true a woodsman as 
 Daniel Boone, and he immediately determined to 
 visit it. Accordingly, early in the spring of 1769, he 
 set out, in company with Findley and four others, 
 to explore and take possession of the enchanted 
 region. 
 
 Although some of Boone's biographers have de- 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 329 
 
 scribed him, at the time of his departure on this 
 memorable expedition, as a man of but twenty or 
 twenty-five years, burning with all the fire and 
 energy of uncontrolled youth, and thoughtlessly 
 rushing forward, anxious to meet and experience 
 every danger which the life of the frontiersman 
 can offer, he was in reality approaching the me- 
 ridian of life; and, far from being rash or incon- 
 siderate, he was as sagacious as he was bold, and 
 as prudent as he was fearless. Unlike the impetu- 
 ous Kenton and Brady,' he added temperateness 
 and perfect self-control to physical daring; and the 
 secret of his great success in his subsequent life 
 lay as much in his profound sagacity and admirable 
 coolness as in his superior powers of body and un- 
 conquerable intrepidity. 
 
 Boone's person has been often described; but, if 
 the accounts of him which have come down to us 
 are accurate, no description can do him justice. 
 His form was tall and commanding; his frame was 
 gigantic, sinewy, and perfectly proportioned ; his feat- 
 ures, though rough-hewn and in no respect hand- 
 some, were very attractive and indicative of the 
 greatest independence and resolution. His eye 
 was particularly large, fine, and piercing; and in 
 every appearance the man was the perfect type 
 of the bold Western pioneer, hunter, and advent- 
 urer. 
 
 The expedition started from the settlement in 
 which Boone lived, on the banks of the Yadkin, 
 and proceeding due west, under the direction of 
 
330 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 Findley, cbmmenced the ascent of the mountains. 
 Their journey was toilsome in the extreme; and, 
 before half of the distance had been accomplished, 
 some of the men began to murmur and besought 
 their leader to return. But as they went on the 
 bravery and indifference to danger manifested by 
 Findley and Boone soon inspired the rest of the 
 party with a like fortitude ; and, the march growing 
 less trying as they advanced, all pushed forward 
 resolutely, determined to succeed in their enter- 
 prise, and not to complain if danger rather than 
 fortune, and hardship rather than comfort, fell to 
 their lot. 
 
 While crossing the mountains an incident oc- 
 curred which gave Boone an opportunity of show- 
 ing the material of which he was made. One night 
 he and a companion named Holden were on watch, 
 guarding the camp while the rest of the party slept. 
 It was about midnight, and the two sentinels were 
 sitting, with their rifles between their knees, listening 
 to the deep breathing of the sleepers. Suddenly a 
 terrible shriek, resembling the shrill cry of a fright- 
 ened woman or child, broke the stillness of the night. 
 Both men instantly sprang erect. Holden, trembling 
 and terrified, convulsively grasped the arm of his com- 
 rade and exclaimed, "What is that?" "Silence!" 
 replied Boone, who was more familiar with the woods 
 than his friend; "do not wake the rest. Take your 
 gun and come with me." 
 
 Holden, not daring to disobey, did as he waL 
 ordered. The two stole silently from the camp, and, 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 331 
 
 after proceeding for some distance, Bonne halted, 
 whispering to his companion that they would wait for 
 a repetition of the cry. In a few minutes the scream 
 was again heard, louder and more fearful than before, 
 Boone was now satisfied, and again telling Holden 
 to follow, groped his way cautiously through the 
 bushes, in the direction from which the sound came. 
 Occasionally he stopped to look round, holding his 
 rifle as he did so, ready to shoot at any moment. 
 At length he touched his companion, and, by a pre- 
 concerted agreement, the two sank quietly to the 
 ground. Holden now saw directly in frnt of him 
 two large balls of light that gleamed and sparkled 
 with an intense brightness, like coals of fire. He 
 whispered to his companion, asking him if it was not 
 a panther ; but Boone was at that moment absorbed 
 in his favorite occupation, and did not answer. He 
 took a deliberate aim, and, when certain of success, 
 fired. A hideous yell of pain instantly resounded 
 through the wood. Then came a crashing noise, as 
 of some huge animal leaping through the underbrush, 
 and Boone, satisfied with the success of his shot, told 
 his companion that it was a panther, and that it 
 probably would be found the next morning. They 
 then returned to the camp. Its remains were not 
 found, as Boone had expected, and the party jour- 
 neyed on. Two days after, while marching through 
 a thick growth of bushes, an animal stretched on the 
 ground attracted attention. It was examined and 
 found to be a dead panther; and, comparing the size 
 
 of the ball which had killed it with that of the bullets 
 20 
 
332 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 in Boone's pouch, it was evident that it was the 
 a*nimal which he had shot at. 
 
 The intervening ridges of mountains were at 
 length passed, and the travelers stood on their 
 farthest western spur. A scene incomparably grand 
 and beautiful opened before them. It seemed as if 
 they were gazing into paradise itself, for they could 
 scarcely believe that any earthly prospect could be 
 so magnificent. The vast plain was covered with 
 illimitable stretches of forests, and watered, as the 
 travelers thought, by an almost innumerable number 
 of winding river courses. " This is Kentucky," said 
 Findley to his companions. " It is a glorious coun- 
 try!" exclaimed Boone, with enthusiasm, and, after 
 gazing for a few moments in 'wonder and delight, he 
 threw his rifle over his shoulder, and descended, with 
 his companions, to take possession of this hunter's 
 Elysium. 
 
 The first few days after their entrance into the 
 beautiful country of which they now regarded them- 
 selves as the rightful owners, they spent in hunting 
 and killing buffalo, immense herds of which ranged 
 the forests and trampled over the broad and fertile 
 plains. None of the party, except Findley, had be- 
 fore enjoyed this noble and exhilarating sport. 
 Boone soon proved himself to be superior to all of 
 his companions, both as a marksman and as a saga- 
 cious hunter, and before many days had passed 
 dozens of these magnificent animals fell before his 
 unerring aim. He was so carried away with his new 
 life that he determined to pass the remainder of his 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 333 
 
 days in this favored region. "Ay," he said in reply 
 to one of his companions who commented on the 
 beauty and richness of the country; "Ay, and who 
 would remain on the sterile pine hills of North Car- 
 olina, to hear the screaming of the jay, and now and 
 then bring down a deer too lean to be eaten? This 
 is the land of hunters, where man and beast grow to 
 their full size." 
 
 For six months the adventurers passed the time 
 most pleasantly, meeting no Indians, and having no 
 disagreeable experience. Nearly all of the hunters 
 now believed that they were the sole occupants of the 
 country, and that all that remained was to return for 
 their families and settle it. But Boone, who was less 
 credulous, told his companions that, from certain in- 
 dications, he was convinced that they should, sooner 
 or later, meet all the Indians that they could care to 
 encounter, and that, as for being left to take sole and 
 peaceable possession of the country, they would do 
 well if they held their own. We shall see that his 
 belief was not ill-founded. 
 
 On the 22nd day of December, Boone, with a com- 
 panion named John Stewart, determining to pen- 
 etrate the heart of the country, and learn something 
 of its character throughout its western extent, left 
 the camp and boldly struck out through the wilder- 
 ness. They promised their companions that, after 
 they had secured the objects of their enterprise, they 
 would return and give a report of what they had seen. 
 
 Traveling leisurely, they passed through a region 
 of the most surpassing beauty and fertility. Finally, 
 
334 TIifi BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 one day, at nightfall, they caije in view of the Ken- 
 tucky River, and, pausing on the brink of this 
 stream, they gazed for awhile in the most undisguised 
 astonishment and admiration at the magnificent 
 scenery which presented itself to their view. A 
 lofty eminence was before them, and, as they sup- 
 posed that it would afford them a far view of the 
 meanderings of the river, they ascended it. Their 
 hope was realized. A broad stretch of country was 
 spread out before them, and, in the light of the set- 
 ting sun, it presented an aspect so noble and delight- 
 ful that they involuntarily recalled their first view of 
 Kentucky, and declared that even that grand pros- 
 pect could hold no comparison with the one which 
 now rejoiced their sight. 
 
 On the following morning they commenced the 
 descent of the hill, intending to resume their jour- 
 ney. Little thinking of danger, they passed leisurely 
 along, with their rifles carelessly resting on their 
 arms. While passing a thick cane-brake, Boone 
 heard a slight rustling noise, and was instantly on 
 the alert, thinking that he should soon have a shot 
 at a deer. But, to his dismay, he saw a number of 
 Indians crouched on the ground, with their guns 
 raised ready to shoot in case he made the least 
 movement. Instantly afterward the dreaded war-cry 
 burst on his ears, and a numerous party of savages 
 rushed forward. Both he and Stewart were im- 
 mediately seized, disarmed, and bound, and, guarded 
 by several stalwart savages, marched to an Indian 
 encampment a few miles distant. 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 335 
 
 Boone's discretion and sagacity now stood him in 
 good stead. Neither he nor his companion under- 
 stood a word of the Indian tongue, but he readily 
 comprehended that the only way to avoid death was 
 to appear reconciled to his lot, and go forward with 
 speed and courage. Although Stewart was not so 
 well-versed in strategy as his companion, he was a 
 brave man, and was naturally hopeful in disposition ; 
 and he, also, advanced with seeming alacrity. 
 
 When the Indians saw that their captives were 
 cheerful and content, and were not disposed to mur- 
 mur at any of their exactions, they gradually relaxed 
 their severity, and were less strict in guard. On the 
 seventh night of the captivity they made a great fire, 
 and, throwing off all restraint, permitted Boone and 
 Stewart to associate with them on equal terms, feast- 
 ing them liberally, and, when the time for rest arrived, 
 allowing them to lie down where they chose without 
 a guard. Boone, giving his companion the cue, 
 affected to be very tired, stretched himself in front 
 of the fire, and, in a short time, closed his eyes, ap- 
 parently in deep sleep. 
 
 One by one the savages retired. Finally nothing 
 was heard in the encampment but their heavy and 
 measured snores. Listening intently, in order to as- 
 certain whether there was any fear of discovery, 
 Boone, satisfied that no one was on the watch, opened 
 his eyes and peered cautiously round. In a few mo- 
 ments he rose to a sitting posture, and softly awak- 
 ened his companion. With the greatest care Boone 
 and Stewart now lifted themselves to their feet, and, 
 
THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 creeping step by step, as silent as death, succeeded 
 in getting out of the circle of their foes. Casting an 
 expressive glance at his companion (for he did not 
 dare to speak, even in a whisper), Boone next made 
 his way to the place where the rifles had been laid. 
 Stewart followed; each secured a gun and ammuni- 
 tion, the forest was reached, and, in a few moments, 
 the fugitives were on their way toward the camp of 
 their friends. 
 
 They traveled with the utmost expedition, and, on 
 the evening of the second day, arrived at their desti- 
 nation. Uncertain whether to hesitate or go for- 
 ward for they were in doubt with regard to the safety 
 of their comrades they approached it cautiously. To 
 their surprise, it was deserted and no trace remained 
 to indicate what had become of its former occu- 
 pants. They evidently had not been killed, for there 
 was no sign of recent violence ; and Boone concluded 
 that they had either been attacked while in camp, and 
 taken prisoners, or else that they had returned home. 
 The mystery, however, was difficult to solve ; and, it 
 may be added that, to his dying day, Boone received 
 no intelligence whatever of the unfortunate men, and 
 that his final conclusion was that they had been car- 
 ried off by the savages, and either killed by them 
 or else adopted into one of their tribes. 
 
 On the day after the arrival of Boone and Stewart 
 at the deserted camp, they were alarmed, about dusk, 
 by the report of two guns, and, fearing that the 
 Indians from whom they had escaped had followed 
 their trail, and were bent on their recapture, they 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 337 
 
 concealed themselves in a thick undergrowth of 
 bushes, and awaited developments. Presently they 
 perceived, at some distance, two forms gliding among 
 the trees toward the spot where they lay concealed ; 
 and they were immediately convinced of the cor- 
 rectness of their suspicions. The forms came nearer, 
 and the men looked anxiously toward them, seeking 
 to ascertain whether they were friends or foes; but, 
 owing to the uncertainty of the light, they could not 
 distinguish. Slowly and cautiously the mysterious 
 forms approached, until finally they arrived within 
 speaking distance. Grasping his rifle, 'Boone boldly 
 stepped forward, and, in a firm voice, addressed them 
 with the challenge : 
 
 "Who comes there?" 
 
 "White men and friends!" was the prompt reply. 
 
 " Come on, then !" rejoined Boone, and the next 
 moment, to his inexpressible delight, his hand was 
 seized by his brother, who, with a single companion, 
 had left North Carolina, crossed the mountains, and 
 penetrated the wilderness in search of him and his 
 party. That night was spent in thanksgiving and 
 rejoicing. Hope, which had sunk so low in the 
 breasts of Boone and Stewart, again revived ; proj- 
 ects of exploration and adventure were formed by 
 the enthusiastic hunters, and for the moment the 
 dangers to which they were subjected from the wil- 
 derness and from hostile Indians were forgotten. 
 
 The next morning the four adventurers rose be- 
 times. Boone succeeded in killing a fine buck before 
 breakfast, and, after making a bountiful repast on 
 
338 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the animal, the hunters struck out in a southerly di- 
 rection, with the intention of exploring that unknown 
 region. 
 
 Soon they discovered, by certain signs, that they 
 were in a dangerous neighborhood. Two large In- 
 dian trails were noticed, and, on two or three occa- 
 sions, the reports of distant rifles were heard. 
 Boone, who was the recognized leader of the party, 
 ordered that they should keep close together, and 
 that on no condition should any one leave his com- 
 panions for a moment. In spite of this strict injunc- 
 tion, however, he was himself the first to disregard 
 its terms. In the eagerness of pursuing a wounded 
 buffalo, he rashly separated himself from the rest of 
 the party. He was followed by Stewart. The ani- 
 mal was killed, and the two friends started to return ; 
 but, before they had gone far, a number of savages 
 rushed upon them from a canebrake, and discharged 
 a flight of arrows. Stewart fell, pierced to the heart, 
 but Boone providentially escaped, and, by swift run- 
 ning reached the camp, when, informing his two 
 companions of their danger, he ordered them to fol- 
 low him ; and the party flew with such speed that 
 they succeeded in getting away, and the designs of 
 the crafty Indians were baffled. 
 
 Soon after this calamitous adventure, another of 
 the party suffered an equally ruthless, and a still more 
 melancholy fate. The companion of Boone's brother 
 one day became separated from his friends. He did 
 not return, and the two Boones, alarmed for his 
 safety, sought for him long and painfully. The miss- 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 339 
 
 ing man was not found, and the brothers were left 
 alone in the wilderness. A few days afterward 
 Boone picked up some torn and bloody shreds of 
 clothes, and, a short distance from the place where 
 these were found, the bones of a human being lay 
 scattered on the ground. The unfortunate man, they 
 now concluded, had been attacked by wild animals 
 and torn to pieces. This, indeed, was his fate, for 
 he was never heard of afterwards. 
 
 Boone and his brother were now the solitary white 
 occupants of this wild and dangerous region. They 
 lamented the sad fates of their companions, but, as 
 they were bold and fearless, they did not despair, 
 and, resuming their march through the forest, deter- 
 mined to be of good cheer, and expect a fortunate 
 future as the reward of heroism and effort. 
 
 In the course of a few weeks, the adventurers 
 found, to their great concern, that their supply of 
 ammunition was nearly out, and. it was accordingly 
 decided that one of them should return to North 
 Carolina for fresh quantities, while the other should 
 remain in the forest. Lots were drawn, and the 
 performance of the mission fell upon Boone's brother. 
 
 For several months Boone remained alone in the 
 Kentucky wilderness. To most men, a situation so for- 
 lorn, and seemingly so perilous, would have been quite 
 the opposite of agreeable. But the romantic grand- 
 eur of the country, where not a tree had been felled, 
 and not a habitation had been raised, was, to the ad- 
 venturous nature of Daniel Boone, an inexhaustible 
 source of delight; and, as he often declared after- 
 
THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 wards, some of the most rapturous moments of his 
 life were passed in his lonely rambles through this 
 unbroken wilderness. Although he saw many signs 
 of Indians, and often heard their savage yells, and 
 got glimpses of their dusky forms, while he lay con- 
 cealed in canebrakes, or among the branches of 
 trees, he fortunately never came to an encounter 
 with them. 
 
 His brother returned on the twenty-seventh day 
 of July, 1770, with the supply of ammunition which 
 he had gone to fetch. For nearly a year longer the 
 brothers ranged the forest with a fearlessness and 
 hardihood scarcely credible. Finally, in March, 
 1771, they left their wild haunts, and set out for 
 their homes in North Carolina. The journey was 
 made in safety; and Daniel Boone, after an absence 
 of two years, during which time he had tasted neither 
 bread nor salt, and seen no human being but his 
 brother, his unfortunate companions, and his savage 
 enemies, once more enjoyed, for a time, the quiets 
 and comforts of domestic peace. 
 
 Before many months had passed, Boone, tiring of 
 his uneventful life, formed the resolution to remove 
 his family to the beautiful and delightful country which 
 had been to him the source of so much agreeable ad- 
 venture. Accordingly, on the 26th of September, 
 1773, he started with his wife and children and a 
 body of emigrants for Kentucky. 
 
 In Powell's valley the party was joined by five 
 more families and a reinforcement of forty men well 
 armed. The whole body now consisted of nearly 
 
JS FOR INDIAN LKGJSMJS. 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 343 
 
 eighty persons, certainly a sufficient number to in- 
 spire confidence in the hearts of even the most 
 timorous. 
 
 Marching across the ridges of the Alleghanies, 
 the emigrants enjoyed a safe and agreeable jour- 
 ney until they reached the west side of Walden's 
 ridge, a range of the Cumberland Mountains. They 
 were here destined to experience a most appalling 
 reverse of fortune. 
 
 On the loth of October, while they were making 
 their way through a narrow defile, a terrible yell 
 suddenly burst from a neighboring wood, and an 
 Indian war-party rushed forward, surrounded them, 
 and, before the men had time to repel the attack, 
 discharged a volley into their midst. Six men were 
 killed and a seventh man wounded. Boone immedi- 
 ately rallied his party ; a general discharge followed, 
 many of the Indians fell, and the rest of the attack- 
 ing party, who had not looked for so stubborn a 
 resistance, were thrown into confusion and fled in 
 terror. 
 
 When the men were certain that their enemies 
 had in reality been repulsed, and did not meditate 
 another assault, they proceeded to look to their 
 killed and wounded, and to collect their horses, 
 many of which had run away. To his unspeakable 
 sorrow, Boone found that his eldest son was among 
 the killed. Grief-stricken and disheartened, he threw 
 himself on the ground and wept like a child. In a 
 moment, however, he recovered his usual composure, 
 arose, and gave the order to proceed. 
 
344 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 A new discouragement was in store for him. The 
 women and children were terrified, and clamorously 
 besought him to return. Most of the men stood 
 sullen and dejected, and, on his addressing them, 
 signified their determination to abandon the enter- 
 prise. Entreaties and threats were alike vain : and 
 Boone was finally obliged to give his consent to the 
 request which his companions made with so great 
 unanimity, turn back, and retrace his steps to a 
 settlement on the Clinch River, forty miles from the 
 scene of action. 
 
 At this place Boone was obliged to remain, unem- 
 ployed and inactive, during the winter and spring. 
 No representations of his regarding the beauty, fer- 
 tility, and security of the Kentucky country could 
 induce his companions to again take up the march. 
 Finally, in June, 1774, he received a message from 
 Governor Dunmore, of Virginia, requesting him to 
 act as a guide to a party of surveyors, whom he was 
 about to dispatch to the Falls of the Ohio. Boone 
 complied with alacrity. The journey was made, and 
 he returned with still more favorable reports of the 
 grandeur of the country. 
 
 In 1775, Boone set out with a party of about 
 twenty men on another expedition to Kentucky. 
 His object this time was to mark out a route and 
 clear a road for the passage of pack-horses and 
 emigrant wagons. This duty was extremely labo- 
 rious, and before long he found it very dangerous. 
 His little band of followers was attacked on the 
 22d of March by a vastly superior force of Indians, 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 345 
 
 The savages were in the end repulsed with heavy 
 loss, but four of the whites were killed or wounded. 
 On the next day the enemy again appeared and 
 assailed the intruders with great fury. They were 
 not driven back until five more of the devoted band 
 fell victims to their wrath. Continuing his progress 
 in spite of all obstacles, Boone finally arrived, on 
 the ist day of April, at a point which, from the 
 advantages of its natural position, seemed to afford 
 a good location for a settlement. He accordingly 
 called a halt, and with his companions set to work 
 to build a fort. The Indians, enraged at the pre- 
 sumption of the white men in attempting to con- 
 struct a habitation in the midst f their favorite 
 hunting-ground, made numerous attacks ; but noth- 
 ing could equal the resolution and perseverance of 
 Boone, who, encouraging his men in their labors, 
 pushed the work forward so rapidly that in fourteen 
 days the structure was completed. The fort, which 
 he named Boonesborough, was no sooner built than 
 he departed, returned to Clinch River, and, disposing 
 of every thing which he possessed, except his most 
 necessary private effects, removed with his family 
 to the Kentucky settlement. Mrs. Boone and her 
 daughters were the first white women who stood 
 upon the banks of the Kentucky River. 
 
 Thus established on a firm footing, the infant 
 colony soon grew in size and strength until it em- 
 braced a number of families, and was fortified by a 
 respectable garrison. Encouraged by the successful 
 enterprise of Boone and his comrades, adventurers 
 
346 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 from the East and North-east were not slow to seek 
 the Kentucky wilds and develop the remarkable re- 
 sources of that favored region. Settlements sprang 
 up all along the Kentucky banks of the Ohio; and 
 in the course of a few years the country which had 
 before been an unbroken wilderness began to assume 
 a civilized aspect. 
 
 Before, however, this change took place, the lit- 
 tle band of pioneers at Boonesborough had to pass 
 through a most trying experience. The Indians 
 were troublesome and vindictive, and made many 
 attacks on the fort. "The garrison was incessantly 
 harassed by flying parties of Indians. While plow- 
 ing their corn they were waylaid and shot; while 
 hunting they were chased and fired upon ; and some- 
 times a solitary Indian would creep up near the fort 
 in the night and fire upon the first of the garrison 
 who appeared in the morning. They were in a con- 
 stant state of anxiety and alarm, and the most ordi- 
 nary duties could only be performed at the risk of 
 their lives." 
 
 During these years of struggle, danger, and hard- 
 ship, Boone was constantly watchful and active. To 
 him the garrison owed not only its original existence, 
 but indeed its preservation through the long and 
 bloody Indian wars. On several occasions he him- 
 self very narrowly escaped. One of his adventures 
 is thus related by an entertaining writer : 
 
 "One morning, in 1777, several men in the field 
 near Boonesborough were attacked by Indians, and 
 ran toward the fort. One was overtaken and tonia- 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 347 
 
 hawked within seventy yards of the fort, and, while 
 being scalped, Simon Kenton shot the warrior dead. 
 Daniel Boone, with thirteen men, hastened to help 
 his friends, but they were intercepted by a large body 
 of Indians, who got between them and the fort. At 
 the first fire from the Indians, seven whites were 
 wounded, among them the gallant Boone. An In- 
 dian sprang upon him with uplifted tomahawk ; but 
 Kenton, quick as a tiger, sprang toward the Indian, 
 discharged his gun into his breast, snatched up the 
 body of his noble leader, and bore it safely into the 
 fort. When the gate was closed securely against the 
 Indians, Boone sent for Kenton: 'Well, Simon,' said 
 the grateful old pioneer, 'you have behaved yourself 
 like a man to-day; indeed, you are a fine fellow.' 
 Boone was a remarkably silent man, and this was 
 great praise from him." 
 
 Though Boone escaped death, he was not destined 
 to live entirely free from misfortune. In February, 
 1778, he, with twenty-seven companions, was sur- 
 prised by a large war-party of Indians and compelled 
 to surrender. The prisoners were well treated by 
 their captors, who, for their race, were very humane; 
 and were inarched forthwith to Chillicothe, the cel- 
 ebrated and important Indian village. 
 
 The sagacity and shrewdness which characterized 
 Daniel Boone's entire career, and which he displayed 
 so signally during his first captivity among the sav- 
 ages, did not desert him at this critical juncture. He 
 at once accepted the inevitable, showed himself to be 
 tractable and submissive, and soon became such 3. 
 
348 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 favorite with his captors that, far from devoting him 
 to torture, or in any way maltreating him, they at 
 once proposed to admit him into their tribe, and 
 would listen to 'no offers of ransom. On arriving at 
 Chillicothe, he was treated with the greatest consid- 
 eration, and the simple savages, pleased with the 
 thought that so famous a hunter had voluntarily 
 joined their numbers, admitted him into their coun- 
 cils and permitted him to participate in their games 
 and revels. He was always invited to their shooting- 
 matches, and on these occasions he displayed his 
 acute observation and thorough knowledge of man- 
 kind in a most admirable manner. He was aware 
 that, particularly among the Indians, no feeling was 
 more painful, or awakened greater resentment, than 
 the sense of inferiority ; and he shot well enough to 
 make it an honor for his opponents to excel him ; 
 but took care not to beat them too often. 
 
 Soon after his arrival at Chillicothe, Boone was 
 taken to Detroit. Here he met the British official, 
 Governor Hamilton, who, sympathizing deeply with 
 him in his misfortunes, and entertaining the profound- 
 est regard for his character, at once offered one hun- 
 dred pounds for his ransom ; but the affection of the 
 Indians for their prisoner was so great that, after a 
 brief consultation, they refused the tempting prire. 
 A number of English gentlemen, who saw and con- 
 versed with the captive, were also very favorably im- 
 pressed, and a large subscription purse was made up 
 and offered to the savages in exchange for the pris- 
 oner. It was now that Daniel Boone's high an4 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 349 
 
 noble spirit of independence displayed itself in a 
 most remarkable manner. He thanked his admirers 
 for their good opinion, and expressed his sincere 
 gratitude for the generosity which actuated them ; but 
 he manfully refused to accept favors -which it would 
 never be in his power to return. He then turned 
 to the savages and signified his readiness to accom- 
 pany them back into captivity. 
 
 A few days after, the Indians set out with their 
 prisoner for Chillicothe. Boone was received with 
 great distinction; but when the warriors, who had 
 gone with him to Detroit, told their companions of 
 his conduct, their enthusiasm for the noble Kentuck- 
 ian exceeded all bounds. No longer suspecting him 
 of any secret design to escape, they allowed him to 
 exercise perfect liberty of action. They frequently 
 sent him out to hunt ; but, in order that he might not 
 be enabled to take advantage of any temptation 
 which might be thrown in his way, they allowed him 
 but a limited quantity of ammunition, and required 
 him to bring in a dead animal for every ball and 
 charge of powder given him. 
 
 To his great concern, Boone discovered, soon after 
 his return from Detroit, that a large war-party of In- 
 dians was being organized for the purpose of march- 
 ing against his companions at Boonesborough. The 
 braves who had already gathered numbered about 
 one hundred and fifty, and this formidable band was 
 to be reinforced by other parties on the way. Boone 
 knew that the settlers would be totally unprepared 
 
 for attack, and feared that, unless they were warned 
 21 
 
350 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 of the intentions of their enemies, they would be 
 crushed at one blow. He determined, at any cost, to 
 escape, march quickly to the fort, and take every 
 necessary measure for protecting the lives and prop- 
 erty of his friends from their ruthless enemies. 
 
 Boone soon laid his plan of action. He continued 
 to hunt as before, but, with a craftiness truly admira- 
 ble, he outwitted his vigilant masters. He still gave 
 a strict account of the bullets which he received, and 
 voluntarily turned over all the powder and ball in his 
 possession each evening upon his return from the 
 hunt, together with game for each bullet and charge 
 which he had used in the course of the day. But, 
 though seemingly so exact, he contrived to lay up a 
 quantity of ammunition for his proposed journey. 
 Each morning, on setting out, he took about a dozen 
 balls from his pouch and divided them with his knife. 
 Half of the balls which he thus divided he used in 
 the chase ; the other half he carefully secreted in a 
 hole. By using very small charges he managed to 
 lay aside a quantity of powder. When he had ac- 
 cumulated a sufficient store in this way, and made 
 his final observations on the band of hostile warriors, 
 he set out early one morning, secured the hidden 
 ammunition, and started for home. He traveled wiih 
 all possible dispatch. The distance was above one 
 hundred and sixty miles; and some idea of the re- 
 markable powers of Boone may be obtained when it 
 is stated that, although at this period nearly fifty- 
 seven years old, he performed it in four days' time. 
 His anxiety was so great that he ate but one meal on 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 35 1 
 
 the way. He was received by the garrison as one 
 risen from the dead. Every one supposed him to 
 have been killed, and his wife had, under this im- 
 pression, returned with her children to North Car- 
 olina. The works of the fort were immediately re- 
 paired ; new gates, new flanks, and double bastions 
 were made, and in a few days what had been a dilap- 
 idated structure on Boone's return, was a tower of 
 strength. 
 
 The event proved that Boone's arrival was very 
 opportune. The savages, owing to his escape, de- 
 termined to postpone their attack ; but, in the course 
 of a few weeks, skirmishing parties began to appear, 
 and these were soon followed by the main body of 
 savages, eight hundred strong, which, investing the 
 fort, prepared to give it a regular siege. 
 
 In the severe trial which followed, Boone's wisdom 
 and heroism shone conspicuous. To describe the 
 siege in detail would extend this sketch beyond all 
 bounds ; and it therefore will be sufficient merely to 
 give its general results. It lasted for eight days, 
 and on the ninth the attacking party, seeing no pros- 
 pect of speedy success, and thoroughly discouraged 
 by the great loss which they had suffered, gave up 
 the attempt and returned. The garrison lost two 
 men killed and four wounded. The loss of the be- 
 siegers was thifty-seven killed and many wounded. 
 This was the last siege ever experienced by the set- 
 tlers at Boonesborough, since the country was now 
 well opened, and since a number of thriving settle- 
 ments had sprung up between the fort and the Ohio, 
 
352 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 , Boone's captivity at Chillicothe was his last ex- 
 perience as a prisoner among the Indians. On sev- 
 eral other occasions he came very near being en- 
 trapped, and once, as our readers shall hear, was 
 actually taken ; but each time he saved himself by 
 flight or presence of mind. The following char- 
 acteristic incident will illustrate his great intelligence 
 and remarkable mastery of strategy: 
 
 " He was once resting in the woods, with a small 
 number of followers, when a large party of Indians 
 came suddenly upon them and halted neither party 
 having discovered the other until they came in con- 
 tact. The whites were eating; and the Indians, with 
 the ready tact for which they are famous, sat down 
 with perfect composure and commenced eating also. 
 It was obvious that they wished to lull the suspicions 
 of the white men, and to seize a favorable opportu- 
 nity for rushing upon them. Boone affected a careless 
 inattention ; but, in an under tone, quietly admonished 
 his men to keep their hands upon their rifles. He 
 then strolled towards the Indians, unarmed, and leis- 
 urely picking the meat from a bone; the Indian 
 leader, who was similarly employed, rose to meet 
 him. 
 
 " Boone saluted him, and then requested to look 
 at the knife with which the Indian was cutting his 
 
 cv 
 
 meat. The chief handed it to him without hesitation ; 
 and our pioneer, who, with his other accomplish- 
 ments, possessed considerable expertness at sleight 
 of hand, deliberately opened his mouth and affected 
 to swallow the long knife, which, at the same instant, 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 353 
 
 he threw adroitly into his sleeve. The Indians were 
 astonished; Boone gulped, rubbed his throat, stroked 
 his body, and then, with apparent satisfaction, pro- 
 nounced the horrid mouthful to be very good. Hav- 
 ing enjoyed the surprise of the spectators for a few 
 moments, he made another contortion, and drawing 
 forth the knife, as they supposed, from his body, civ- 
 illy returned it to the chief. The latter took the 
 point cautiously between his thumb and ringer, as 
 if fearful of being contaminated by touching the 
 weapon, and threw it from him into the bushes. The 
 pioneer sauntered back to his party; and the Indi- 
 ans, instantly dispatching their meal, marched off, 
 desiring no farther intercourse with a man who could 
 swallow a scalping-knife." 
 
 The amusing anecdote f^iven below is taken from 
 Peck's "Life of Boone:" 
 
 " Though the delicacy of Colonel Boone's organ- 
 ization was such that he could never himself relish 
 tobacco in any form, he still raised some for his 
 friends and neighbors, and for what were then 
 deemed the essential rites of hospitality. 
 
 "As a shelter for curing the tobacco, he had built 
 an inclosure of rails a dozen feet in height and cov- 
 ered with canes and grass. Stalks of tobacco are 
 generally split and strung on sticks about four feet in 
 length. The ends of these are laid on poles placed 
 across the tobacco-house, and in tiers one above 
 another, to the roof. Boone had fixed his temporary 
 shelter in such a manner as to have three tiers. He 
 had covered the lower tier, and the tobacco had be- 
 
354 THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 
 
 come dry ; when he entered the shelter for the pur- 
 pose of removing the sticks to the upper tier, prepar- 
 atory to gathering the remainder of the crop. He 
 had hoisted up the sticks from the lower to the sec- 
 ond tier, and was standing on the poles which sup- 
 ported it, while raising the sticks to the upper tier, 
 when four stout Indians, with guns, entered the low 
 door and called him by name. 
 
 " ' Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away 
 more. We carry you off to Chillicothe this time. 
 You no cheat us any more.' 
 
 " Boone looked down upon their upturned faces, 
 saw their loaded guns pointed at his breast, and rec- 
 ognizing some of his old friends, the Shawanese, who 
 had made him prisoner near the Blue Licks in 1778, 
 coolly and pleasantly responded : 
 
 " 'Ah, old friends, glad to see you.' 
 
 " Perceiving that they manifested impatience to 
 have him come down, he told them he was quite will- 
 ing to go with them, and only begged that they 
 would wait where they were, and watch him closely 
 until he could finish removing the tobacco. 
 
 "While thus parleying with them, Boone inquired 
 earnestly respecting his old friends in Chillicothe. 
 He continued for some time to divert the attention of 
 these simple-minded men, by allusions to past events 
 with which they were familiar, and by talking of his 
 tobacco, his mode of curing it, and promising them 
 an abundant supply. With their guns in their hands, 
 however, they stood at the door of the shed, grouped 
 closely together so as to render his escape apparently 
 
BOONE ESCAPES BY STRATEGY. 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 357 
 
 impossible. In the meantime, Boone carefully gath- 
 ered his arms full of the long, dry tobacco leaves, 
 filled with pungent dust, which would be blinding and 
 stifling as the most powerful snuff, and then with a 
 leap from his station twelve feet high, came directly 
 upon their heads, filling their eyes and nostrils, and 
 so bewildering and disabling them for the moment, 
 that they lost all self-possession and all self-control. 
 
 " Boone, agile as a deer, darted out at the door, 
 and in a moment was in his bullet-proof log-hut, 
 which to him was an impregnable citadel. Loop- 
 holes guarded every approach. The Indians could 
 not show themselves without exposure to certain 
 death. They were too well acquainted with the un- 
 erring aim of Boone's rifle to venture within its 
 range. Keeping the log-cabin between them and 
 their redoubtable foe, the baffled Indians fled into 
 the wilderness. 
 
 " Colonel Boone related this adventure with great 
 glee, imitating the gestures of the bewildered Indians. 
 He said that, notwithstanding his narrow escape, he 
 could not resist the temptation, as he reached the 
 door of his cabin, to look around to witness the effect 
 of his achievement. The Indians coughing, sneezing, 
 blinded and almost suffocated by the tobacco dust, 
 were throwing out their arms and groping about in 
 all directions, cursing him for a rogue and calling 
 themselves fools." 
 
 The following remarkable anecdote of Boone is 
 taken from the " Ornithological Biography" of the 
 renowned naturalist, J. J. Audubon, who t during his 
 
358 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 travels in America, visited the famous hunter in his 
 home in Missouri, to which he removed from Ken- 
 tucky in about 1 800 : 
 
 " Daniel Boone, or, as he was usually called in the 
 Western country, Colonel Boone, happened to spend 
 a night with me under the same roof, more than 
 twenty years ago. We had returned from a shoot- 
 ing excursion, in the course of which his extraordi- 
 nary skill in the management of the rifle had been 
 fully displayed. On retiring to the room appropri- 
 ated to that remarkable, individual and myself for 
 the night, I felt anxious to know more of his exploits 
 and adventures than I did, and accordingly took the 
 liberty of proposing numerous questions to him. 
 
 " The stature and general appearance of this wan- 
 derer of the Western forests approached the gigantic. 
 His chest was broad and prominent, his muscular 
 powers displayed themselves in every limb ; his coun- 
 tenance gave indication of his great courage, enter- 
 prise, and perseverance ; and, when he spoke, the 
 very motion of his lips brought the impression that 
 whatever he uttered could not be otherwise than 
 strictly true. I undressed, while he merely took off 
 his hunting-shirt, and arranged a few folds of blan- 
 kets on the floor, choosing rather to lie there, as he 
 observed, than on the softest bed. When we had 
 both disposed of ourselves, each after his own fash- 
 ion, he related to me the following account of his 
 powers of memory, which I lay before you, kind 
 reader, in his own words, hoping that the simplicity 
 of his style may prove interesting to you : 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 359 
 
 " ' I was once,' said he, ' on a hunting expedition 
 on the banks of the Green River, when the lower parts 
 of Kentucky were still in the hands of nature, and 
 none but the sons of the soil were looked upon as its 
 lawful proprietors. We Virginians had, for some time, 
 been waging a war of intrusion upon them, and I, 
 among the rest, rambled through the woods in pur- 
 suit of their race, as I now would follow the tracks 
 of any ravenous animal. The Indians outwitted me 
 one dark night, and I was as unexpectedly as sud- 
 denly made a prisoner by them. 
 
 "'The trick had been managed with great skill; 
 for no sooner had I extinguished the fire of my 
 camp, and laid me down to rest in full security, as I 
 thought, than I felt myself seized by an undistinguish- 
 able number of hands, and was immediately pinioned, 
 as if about to be led to the scaffold for execution. To 
 have attempted to be refractory, would have proved 
 useless and dangerous to my life, and I suffered my- 
 self to be removed from my camp to theirs, a few 
 miles distant, without uttering a word of complaint. 
 You are aware, I dare say, that to act in this manner 
 was the best policy, as you understand that, by so 
 doing, I proved to the Indians at once that I was 
 born and bred as fearless of death as any of them- 
 selves. 
 
 " ' When we reached the camp, great rejoicings 
 were exhibited. Two squaws and a few papooses 
 appeared particularly delighted at the sight of me, 
 and I was assured, by every unequivocal gesture and 
 word, that on the morrow the mortal enemy of the 
 
360 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 red-skins would cease to live. I never opened my 
 lips, but was busy contriving some scheme which might 
 enable me to give the rascals a slip before dawn. 
 The women immediately fell a-searching about my 
 hunting-shirt for whatever they might think valuable, 
 and, fortunately for me, soon found my flask, filled 
 with strong whisky. 
 
 " 'A terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous 
 countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at 
 the anticipation of their intoxication. The crew be- 
 gan immediately to beat their bellies and sing, as 
 they passed the bottle from mouth to mouth. How 
 often did I wish the flask ten times its size, and filled 
 with aqua fords f I observed that the squaws drank 
 more freely than the warriors, and again my spirits 
 were about to be depressed, when the report of a 
 gun was heard at a distance. The Indians all 
 jumped on their feet. The singing and drinking 
 were both brought to a stand, and I saw, with in- 
 expressible joy, the men walk off to some distance 
 and talk to the squaws. I knew that they were 
 consulting about me, and I foresaw that, in a few 
 moments, the warriors would go to discover the cause 
 of the gun having been fired so near their camp. I 
 expected that the squaws would be left to guard me. 
 Well, sir, it was just so. They returned ; the men 
 took up their guns and walked away. The squaws 
 sat down again, and, in less than five minutes, had 
 my bottle up to their dirty mouths, gurgling down their 
 throats the remains of the whisky. 
 
 " ' With pleasure did I see them becoming more 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 361 
 
 and more drunk, until the liquor took such hold of 
 them that it was quite impossible for these women to 
 be of any service. They tumbled down, rolled about, 
 and began to snore, when I, having no other chance 
 of freeing myself from the cords that fastened me, 
 rolled over and over towards the fire, and, after a 
 short time, burned them asunder. I rose on my feet, 
 snatched up my rifle, and for once in my life spared 
 that of Indians. I now recollected how desirous I 
 once or twice felt to lay open the skulls of the 
 wretches with my tomahawk. But when I again 
 thought upon killing beings unprepared, and unable 
 to defend themselves, it looked like murder without 
 need, and I gave up the idea. 
 
 " ' But, sir, I felt determined to mark the spot, and, 
 walking to a thrifty ash sapling, I cut out of it three 
 large chips, and ran off. I soon reached the river, 
 soon crossed it, and threw myself into the canebrakes, 
 imitating the tracks of an Indian with my feet, so that 
 no chance might be left for those from whom I had 
 escaped to overtake me. 
 
 " ' It is now nearly twenty years since this hap- 
 pened, and more than five since I left the whites' set- 
 tlement, which I might never probably have visited 
 again, had I not been called upon as a witness in a 
 law-suit which was pending in Kentucky, and which, 
 I really believe, would never have been settled had 
 I not come forward and established the beginning of 
 a certain boundary-line. The story is this, sir : 
 
 "<Mr. moved from Old Virginia into Ken- 
 tucky, and, having a large tract granted to him 
 
362 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 in the new State, laid claim to a certain parcel of 
 land adjoining Green River, and, as chance would 
 have it, took for one of his corners the very ash 
 tree on which I had made my mark, beginning, as it 
 is expressed in the deed, "At an ash marked by three 
 distinct notches of the tomahawk of a white man." 
 
 " ' The tree had grown much, and the bark had cov- 
 ered the marks. But, somehow or other, Mr. 
 
 had heard from some one all that I have already said 
 to you, and, thinking that I might remember the spot 
 alluded to in the deed, but which was no longer dis- 
 coverable, wrote for me to come and try at least to 
 find the place or the tree. His letter mentioned that 
 all my expenses should be paid ; and, not caring much 
 about once more going back to Kentucky, I started 
 
 and met Mr. . After some conversation, the 
 
 affair with the Indians came to my recollection. I 
 considered for awhile, and began to think that, after 
 all, I could find the very spot, as well as the tree, if 
 it were yet standing. 
 
 <(< Mr. and I mounted our horses, and off we 
 
 went to the Green River bottoms. After some diffi- 
 culty for you must be aware, sir, that great changes 
 have taken place in those woods I found at last the 
 spot where I had crossed the river, and, waiting for 
 the moon to rise, made for the course in which I 
 thought the ash-tree grew. On approaching the 
 place, I felt as if the Indians were there still, and as if 
 
 I were still a prisoner among them. Mr. and I 
 
 camped near what I conceived the spot, and waited 
 until the return of day. 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 363 
 
 " ' At the rising of the sun I was on foot, and, after 
 a good deal of musing, thought that an ash-tree, then 
 in sight, must be the very one on which I had made 
 my mark. I. felt as if there could be no doubt about 
 it, and mentioned. my thought to Mr. . 
 
 " ' " Well, Colonel Boone," said he, " if you think so 
 I hope that it may prove true, but we must have some 
 witnesses. Do you stay hereabouts, and I will go 
 and bring some of the settlers whom I know." 
 
 " ' I agreed. Mr. trotted off, and I, to pass 
 
 the time, rambled about to see if a deer was still liv- 
 ing in the land. But, ah ! sir, what a wonderful dif- 
 ference thirty years makes in a country ! Why, at 
 the time when I was caught by the Indians, you would 
 not have walked out in any direction more than a 
 mile without shooting a buck or a bear. There were 
 then thousands of buffaloes on the hills in Kentucky. 
 The land looked as if it never would become poor ; 
 and to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. 
 But when I was left to myself on the banks of Green 
 River, I dare say, for the last time in my life, a few 
 signs only of the deer were seen, and, as to a deer 
 itself, I saw none. 
 
 " ' Mr. returned, accompanied by three gentle- 
 men. They looked upon me as if I had been Wash- 
 ington himself, and walked to the ash-tree, which I 
 now called my own, as if in quest of a long-lost 
 treasure. I took an. ax from one of them, and cut 
 a few chips off the bark. Still no signs were to be 
 seen. So I cut again, until I thought it time to be 
 cautious, and I scraped and worked away with my 
 
364 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 butcher-knife until I did come to where my toma- 
 hawk had left an impression on the wood. We now 
 went regularly to work, and scraped at the tree with 
 care, until three hacks, as plain as any three notches 
 
 ever were, could be seen. Mr. and the other 
 
 gentlemen were astonished, and I must allow that I 
 was as much surprised as pleased myself. I made 
 affidavit of this remarkable occurrence in presence of 
 these gentlemen. Mr. - gained his cause. I left 
 Green River forever, and came to where we are 
 now ; and, sir, I wish you a good night.' ' 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 
 
 qualities which made the sagacious Boone 
 1 the most famous and successful of the early 
 Western pioneers we find almost entirely lacking in 
 the fiery Kenton. The achievements of the latter, 
 regarded in the light of merit, were indeed as re- 
 markable as those of the former; but, regarded in 
 the light of real value and consequence, they were 
 comparatively insignificant. Boone was identified 
 with actions of lasting importance, and shaped the 
 course of events rather than followed the current; 
 whereas Kenton was but a participator in move- 
 ments originated by others. Boone, besides being 
 a man of the greatest physical powers and the 
 most unquestioned intrepidity, had every intellectual 
 quality of the successful leader, and, under different 
 circumstances, might have obtained lasting renown 
 as a general. Kenton possessed all of Boone's cour- 
 age, and was in physical resources his peer, but he 
 lacked his high mental endowments; and his part in 
 life was rather that of the brave and faithful soldier 
 than that of the wise and competent leader. An 
 account of his life, therefore, is an account of the 
 remarkable achievements of a daring man, who acts 
 
 solely in the capacity of a private adventurer. His 
 
 065) 
 
366 fHE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 performances, during his life among the Indians, are 
 so truly wonderful that, to all who value remarkable 
 exhibitions of strength and daring for their own 
 sakes, a description of some of* the more striking 
 incidents in his life can not but be highly inter- 
 esting. 
 
 According to the commonly received account, 
 Simon Kenton commenced his adventurous career 
 at the youthful age of sixteen. The immediate 
 cause of his adopting the life of the woodsman is 
 said to have been the terror and remorse which 
 he felt at the unfortunate issue of a personal en- 
 counter with a young neighbor named Leitchmann, 
 whom he punished so severely that he left him 
 lying apparently lifeless. This incident has been 
 so often related that very few of our readers will 
 care to hear it in the present connection ; but, as 
 it strikingly illustrates the character of young Ken- 
 ton, it can not fail to serve a useful purpose. It is, 
 in brief, as follows : 
 
 At the distance of a few rods from the house 
 of Kenton 's father lived an old farmer who had a 
 daughter as coquettish as she Was attractive. Her 
 charms won for her a great many suitors among 
 the young men of the neighborhood, but her natu- 
 rally vain and frivolous disposition induced her to 
 decline a number of advantageous proposals in 
 order that she might retain the rest of her ad- 
 mirers. 
 
 Among those who paid assiduous court to this 
 fair coquette was young Kenton. As he was at 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 367 
 
 this time but a mere boy, being not over fifteen, 
 his addresses gave the young lady a great deal of 
 merriment; and, following her mischievous dispo- 
 sition, she determined to put the ardor of her suitor 
 to the proof. She accordingly affected total indif- 
 ference to all but Kenton and one other an awk- 
 ward, hulking, farmer's son, about twenty-one years 
 old, named Leitchmann. Employing all of her art, 
 she managed to inspire young Kenton with a feel- 
 ing of the greatest scorn and resentment for his 
 rival, who, in his turn, soon came to regard the 
 youth with a contempt which finally induced him to 
 offer an open affront. 
 
 Moved to wrath and fury at what he considered the 
 impudence of his rival, Kenton determined to wreak 
 vengeance. He accordingly challenged Leitchmann 
 to combat; and, the challenge being accepted, the 
 rivals repaired to a lonely spot in the wood to adjust 
 their difficulties. 
 
 Not suspecting Leitchmann of any dishonorable 
 intentions, Kenton went unaccompanied. But, upon 
 arriving on the ground, he found a number of the 
 farmer's friends, who at once began to taunt him in 
 a most insulting manner. He permitted their re- 
 marks to pass unregarded, stripped off all of his 
 clothing but his pants, and announced himself pre- 
 pared for the fight. 
 
 Leitchman stepped promptly forward, and Kenton 
 at once dealt him a furious blow. It was returned 
 by the young farmer with such interest that Kenton 
 drew back and placed himself on his guard. Leitch- 
 
305 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 mann, confident that his superior years and strength 
 would give him the advantage, made a desperate 
 lunge at the youth, but Kenton succeeded in warding 
 it off. Seeing that he could not stand against his 
 opponent in stubborn battle, Kenton continued to 
 act on the defensive until he had wearied him; and 
 then, at once changing his tactics, he called forth all 
 of his vigor, and, by a series of quick and dexterous 
 blows, so annoyed the clumsy Dutchman that he was 
 glad to take the defensive. The chances now turned 
 in favor of Kenton ; and he would have enjoyed a 
 speedy and complete triumph had not Leitchmann's 
 friends suddenly interfered and declared with em- 
 phasis that the contest had long since been decided 
 against Kenton, and bade the youth to return home 
 and never again attempt to encounter a man who was 
 so decidedly his superior. At this arbitrary act, Ken- 
 ton stood still, and, glaring furiously at the cowardly 
 
 fellows, denounced them as d d villains, and offered 
 
 to thrash each of them single-handed. He was im- 
 mediately seized, and the men, picking up a number 
 of staves, proceeded to belabor him vigorously. He 
 was pounded until he fairly believed that every bone 
 in his body was broken, and was shown no mercy until 
 he was rendered too feeble to make the slightest move- 
 ment by way of resistance, when he was thrown on 
 the ground and left to his meditations. 
 
 When he recovered from the effects of this punish- 
 ment, Kenton took the first opportunity of informing 
 his rival that he should some day call him to account 
 for his conduct. He prudently resolved, however, 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 369 
 
 that he would not again encounter his foe until, by 
 increased strength, he should be enabled to do so 
 with fair prospects of success, and he waited patiently 
 for another year. On his sixteenth birthday he rose 
 early in the morning, walked over to Leitchmann's 
 house, and, calling him, told him briefly that he de- 
 sired a second encounter. The Dutchman replied 
 that he would endeavor to accommodate him; and, 
 without more ado, the rivals repaired together to the 
 wood. 
 
 In the combat which followed, Kenton fought with 
 all the dexterity and wariness which he had displayed 
 at first ; but Leitchmann, knowing the methods of his 
 opponent, was more guarded than he had been. In 
 spite of all of Kenton's activity, he was thwarted by 
 Leitchmann, and finally, after a severe struggle, was 
 thrown to the ground. His vindictive foe instantly 
 sprang upon him, and kicking, biting, and pound- 
 ing him with the most malignant fury, cursed him 
 savagely, and heaped upon him every species of 
 abuse. 
 
 While he was enduring this terrible punishment, 
 Kenton, casting his eye toward a small bush which 
 grew a few feet from where he lay, suddenly con- 
 ceived a happy design. He looked up at his oppo- 
 nent, and then again at the bush, and, satisfied that 
 he could by a strenuous effort accomplish his pur- 
 pose, he promptly went to work to secure what he 
 was convinced would be a full and dreadful revenge 
 for all the wrongs which he had suffered. 
 
 Giving a heavy groan, he turned on one side, in 
 
37O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the direction of the bush, just as his enemy, after a 
 brief pause, had commenced to kick and club him 
 with added violence. Another groan, and he again 
 rolled over ; and, repeating the action two or three 
 times, groaning as if in deep agony, he finally lay 
 within a few feet of the bush, with Leitchmann stand- 
 ing over him. Watching his opportunity, he sud- 
 denly sprang from the ground, and, before his as- 
 tonished foe could defend himself, pushed him over 
 on the bush, and in a second wound his hair, which 
 was very long, and therefore well adapted to the pur- 
 pose, around its thick, tangled branches. With a 
 cry of exultation, Kenton then called forth all of his 
 power, and gave him a stunning kick in the head. 
 Remembering the injuries which he had suffered a 
 year before, and wrought to fury by the cowardly 
 conduct of Leitchmann in taking advantage of him 
 when down, he was but ill-disposed to grant mercy 
 where no mercy had been shown; and he retaliated 
 with such violence that, in a few moments, the Dutch- 
 man gave a deep sigh, sank to the ground, and, after 
 a few gasps, closed his eyes and lay quivering, appar- 
 ently in the agonies of death. 
 
 The malignity and wrath which had held uncon- 
 trollable sway in the breast of Kenton now gave 
 way to remorse and terror. He found, though too 
 late, that he had overstepped the bounds not only 
 of humanity, but of vengeance itself, and that, in- 
 stead of merely chastising his opponent, he had 
 cruelly murdered him. His mind was agitated by a 
 thousand terrible thoughts; and, fearing that he 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 37! 
 
 would be immediately apprehended, tried for his 
 act and hung, he cast a last glance at his appar- 
 ently expiring foe, and then quickly fled. 
 
 He directed his steps due west, avoiding the 
 settlements and traveling through the thickest of 
 the wilderness. He soon passed the part of the 
 country where the stations were most numerous, 
 and arrived in the neighborhood of Warm Springs, 
 in the western part of Virginia. At this place he 
 encountered a man named Johnson, an exile from 
 the State of New Jersey, who was on his way across 
 the mountains ; and, joining him, he left the borders 
 of civilization and pushed into the unexplored wil- 
 derness. 
 
 Kenton started on his journey about the middle 
 of May, 1771. Johnson had with him a pack-horse, 
 laden with a few necessaries and a small quantity 
 of flour. He also had two rifles and a store of am- 
 munition. One of his guns he gave to Kenton, and 
 thus provided with abundant means of subsistence 
 and defense, the adventurers crossed the country and 
 arrived at a settlement on the Cheat River, a tribu- 
 tary of the Monongahela. Parting company with 
 his friend at this point, Kenton met a small company 
 which had been organized for the purpose of exploring 
 the West, and, joining it, he descended the river to a 
 place called Province's Settlement, where he fell in 
 with two young adventurers named Yager and 
 Strader. 
 
 Yager had been taken prisoner by the Indians in 
 his childhood, had been for many years a captive 
 
372 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 among them, and had traveled with them in their 
 hunting excursions over a large part of the West. 
 Seeing that Kenton was a young man of a fiery and 
 adventurous spirit, anxious to face and brave all of the 
 dangers of frontier life, he took him into his confi- 
 dence, and told him that some distance to the south 
 there was a beautiful country which the Indians called 
 Kan-tuck-ee, which was so fertile that every species 
 of vegetation grew spontaneous, and was so abun- 
 dantly stocked with game that thousands of years 
 could not exhaust its immense resources. He said, 
 moreover, that this region was entirely uninhabited, 
 and he concluded by telling Kenton that he was about 
 to return to it, and requested him to bear him com- 
 pany. 
 
 Kenton listened to Yager's description with delight, 
 and his eye flashed as he eagerly closed with the pro- 
 posal. Preparations were at once made for the jour- 
 ney ; a boat was built, a supply of provisions was 
 laid in, and Yager, Kenton, and Strader set out for 
 the land of promise. 
 
 Yager's recollections of the beauty of the hunting- 
 grounds over which he had wandered with the In- 
 dians while a youth, proved to be more vivid than 
 his knowledge of reaching it was accurate. Instead 
 of coming to it, as Yager had predicted, in the course 
 of a few days, they traveled for many weary weeks 
 without seeing any signs of it, and they finally deter- 
 mined to abandon their search and devote their atten- 
 tion henceforth to hunting and trapping. 
 
 For nearly two years Kenton and his comrades 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 373 
 
 applied themselves to this congenial and, as it 
 proved, profitable occupation. They met with re- 
 markable success, exchanging their furs with the 
 traders at Fort Pitt for clothing and other neces- 
 saries. Thus they lived in the full enjoyment of 
 their forest life, until March, 1773, when a sweeping 
 calamity deprived Kenton and Yager of their com- 
 panion, obliged them to abandon their pursuit, and 
 threw them, without any means of supporting life, 
 into the most trying and distressful circumstances. 
 
 One day, while reposing in their tent after an un- 
 usually successful hunt, a terrific yell was heard, and 
 a body of Indian warriors, about fifty strong, ap- 
 peared on the outside. Immediately fifteen or 
 twenty shots were fired, and a number of savages 
 rushed into the tent. Kenton and Yager sprang to 
 their feet, but Strader had been killed. Kenton, with 
 remarkable presence of mind, drew his knife and 
 made a gash in the canvas opposite the door, and 
 then, quickly forcing himself through the opening 
 thus made, he bounded through the throng of sav- 
 ages that encircled the tent and escaped. Yager 
 was not slow to follow, and, though a number of In- 
 dians started in pursuit, the fugitives were too fleet 
 for them, and soon reached a place of safety. 
 
 Owing to the precipitation with which they fled, 
 they did not have time to secure either their rifles or 
 their blankets ; and, as they did not dare to return, 
 they were left without means of providing them- 
 selves lor the future. But the only thing which re- 
 mained was to accept the situation and go forward, 
 
374 THE BACK WOODSMEN. 
 
 and they accordingly struck out boldly through the 
 wilderness for the Ohio. 
 
 Their sufferings during the march were acute, and, 
 indeed, almost past endurance. They are thus de- 
 scribed by one of the most interesting of our West- 
 ern narrative writers : 
 
 " Directing their route by the barks of trees, they 
 pressed forward in a straight direction for the Ohio, 
 and, during the first two days, allayed the piercing 
 pangs of hunger by chewing such roots as they could 
 find on their way. On the third day their strength 
 began to fail, and the keen appetite which, at first, 
 had constantly tortured them, was succeeded by 
 a nausea, accompanied with a dizziness and a sink- 
 ing of the heart, bordering on despair. On the 
 fourth day, they often threw themselves upon the 
 ground, determined to await the approach of death; 
 and as often were stimulated by the instinctive love 
 of life to arise and resume their journey. On the 
 fifth, they were completely exhausted, and were able 
 only to crawl at intervals. In this manner they trav- 
 eled about a mile during the day, and succeeded, by 
 sunset, in reaching the banks of the Ohio. Here, to 
 their inexpressible joy, they encountered a party of 
 traders, from whom they obtained a comfortable sup- 
 ply of provisions." 
 
 For a year or two following this adventure Ken- 
 ton was connected with various exploring parties, 
 and acted also in a scouting capacity in an expedi- 
 tion against the Indians on the Kanawha. Finally, 
 in 1775, still bent on discovering the beautiful coua- 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 375 
 
 try which Yager had described to him, he induced 
 two friends to join him in a journey which he pro- 
 posed to make in search of it. 
 
 After many weeks constant travel, during- which 
 they explored the Ohio to some distance on each 
 side, they reached the neighborhood of May's Lick, 
 and here, for the first time in the course of their 
 wanderings, they were convinced that Yager's glow- 
 ing account indeed had some foundation in truth. 
 The country was very beautiful, and the soil was 
 surprisingly fertile. As they advanced they per- 
 ceived signs of buffalo, and before long, to their 
 amazement and delight, they found themselves in 
 the midst of the enchanted region. The souls of 
 the hunters were filled with rapture, and Kenton, 
 leading the way, pushed forward to explore the 
 country. 
 
 After many days spent partly in killing buffalo, 
 deer, and elk, and partly in examining the ground 
 with reference to the selection of a convenient place 
 for erecting a settlement, the adventurers chose a 
 location in the vicinity of the present town of Wash- 
 ington, and proceeded to build a cabin. Their habi- 
 tation was completed in the course of a few days, 
 and the settlers then cleared about an acre of ground 
 in the center of a large canebrake and planted it with 
 Indian corn. 
 
 For some time Kenton and his two comrades 
 enjoyed a life of unbroken pleasure and success. 
 Like Boone and his party on their first visit to 
 Kentucky six years before, they hunted and trav- 
 
376 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 eled without any incident occurring to mar their 
 happiness, and, like them, they finally concluded that 
 they were the sole possessors of this delightful re- 
 gion. In common with their predecessors, however, 
 fortune at length deserted them, and a most terrible 
 circumstance brought them to a realization of the 
 dangers of their situation. 
 
 While strolling aimlessly one day through the 
 country along the banks of the Licking River, Ken- 
 ton, who was some distance in advance of his com- 
 rades, heard a low rnoan from a thicket on his right, 
 coming apparently from a man in deep distress. He 
 halted on the instant, and placed himself in an atti- 
 tude of defense, fearing that some deception was 
 being practiced upon him, for he knew that the Indi- 
 ans had a way of decoying their enemies by imitating 
 sounds calculated to excite sympathy or awaken cu- 
 riosity. He stood on his guard, and in a moment 
 the moan was repeated. It was followed by another, 
 evidently from a second person, and, still listening, 
 Kenton heard the voice of a man muttering, in per- 
 fectly intelligible English, bitter words of complaint. 
 His suspicions were now quieted, and his sympathies 
 awakened ; and, advancing softly, he forced his way 
 through the bushes, and soon came to the spot from 
 which the sounds proceeded. 
 
 Stretched on the ground in a helpless and, to all 
 appearance, dying condition, Kenton saw two. white 
 men, stripped almost naked, who were so emaciated 
 that their bodies seemed to be mere skeletons, kept 
 together by a thin covering of skin. After looking 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 377 
 
 at them for a moment, Kenton stepped forward, and 
 kneeling down, spoke to the one whom he had heard 
 so bitterly lamenting his miserable lot. The poor 
 fellow looked up. When Kenton assured him of his 
 friendship, and offered to relieve his necessities, he 
 immediately brightened, and, in an eager tone, asked 
 for food. Hearing the request of his comrade, the 
 other man also revived. Kenton drew a piece of 
 venison from a pack which he carried on his shoulder, 
 kindled a fire, and made a thick broth, which he gave 
 to the starving men. When they were able to rise 
 from the ground, he and his two companions took 
 their arms, and, telling them to be of good cheer, led 
 them off in the direction of the cabin. The journey 
 was very tedious, owing to the exhausted condition 
 of the men ; and, as they were a considerable dis- 
 tance from their forest home, the hunters finally con- 
 cluded to encamp where they were until their new 
 friends should recover their strength. 
 
 Kenton, on inquiring of them how they came to be 
 in the pitiable condition in which he had found them, 
 was told that they were from Pennsylvania, and had 
 started a few months before for the Ohio settle- 
 ments. During the voyage down the river their boat 
 had capsized. They had saved themselves by swim- 
 ming, but their guns, blankets, and provisions had 
 gone down in the stream. They had wandered for 
 many days through the wilderness, and had, a few 
 hours before they were happily rescued, laid down 
 to die. 
 
 When they had related their story, Kenton told 
 
378 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 them that he had built a station some miles distant, 
 and invited them to join him and his companions. 
 One of the men, whose name was Hendricks, gladly 
 accepted the invitation, but the other would not hear 
 of it, and signified his determination to return to the 
 Monongahela, saying that he was heartily sick of the 
 woods. As he insisted on carrying his purpose into 
 execution, Kenton courteously offered to bear him 
 company as far as the banks of the Ohio, and, in the 
 course of a few days, accordingly set out with his 
 two comrades and the stranger, leaving Hendricks 
 alone in the camp. 
 
 The journey was made ; the stranger was given a 
 gun, blanket, and provisions, and sent on his way, and 
 the three hunters returned with all speed. The camp 
 was reached, but, to their great concern, they found 
 it deserted. A number of articles which had be- 
 longed to Hendricks were strewed on the ground, 
 and, on examining more narrowly, Kenton found that 
 some of the trees which surrounded the camp were 
 pierced with bullets. There had, evidently, been an 
 Indian attack, and the unfortunate Hendricks had 
 doubtless been captured and carried off. 
 
 When he had finished his observations, Kenton 
 stood for a moment brooding in the deepest melan- 
 choly. Suddenly one of his companions seized him 
 convulsively by the arm, and, pointing in the direction 
 of a low ravine about a hundred yards distant, 
 called his attention to a thick column of smoke, 
 which was rising apparently from a fire freshly kin- 
 dled. As he did so he whispered in a hoarse voice, 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 379 
 
 and with a face pale as death, "Indians!" and then 
 started to run at the top of his speed, followed by 
 his other companion. Kenton's first impulse was to 
 call to them to return ; but he quickly changed his in- 
 tention, for he knew that they were panic-stricken, and 
 that a single word would bring a host of Indians 
 after him. He therefore followed his comrades' ex- 
 ample, and ran away as swiftly as possible. 
 
 After they had gone for several miles, they stopped 
 to breathe, and Kenton, who had by this time come 
 up to them, reproached them bitterly for their pusil- 
 lanimous conduct. He declared that such cowardice 
 was in the extremest degree disgraceful, and that if 
 exhibitions of this kind were to be repeated in future 
 encounters with the Indians, he would take the first 
 opportunity of breaking off from companions so faith- 
 less, and henceforth shift for himself. 
 
 The men had by this time recovered from their 
 fright, and, ashamed to be thus rebuked by a mere 
 youth, after a moment's hesitation acknowledged that 
 their conduct had indeed been highly culpable, and 
 proposed to return and attack the enemy. Kenton 
 quickly agreed to this proposal, shouldered his rifle, 
 and started back; but before he had gone a dozen 
 steps, he was called by one of his companions, who, 
 telling him that it would be madness to attack so 
 greatly superior a force in broad daylight, said that the 
 wiser course would be to wait until dusk. Kenton, 
 whose impetuous nature would endure no restraint, 
 reluctantly complied, and concealed himself with his 
 comrades, awaiting the concerted time. 
 
380 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 When the first shades of evening appeared, they 
 emerged from their hiding-place and started to re- 
 trace their steps. They approached the camp cau- 
 tiously, but heard no sound, and saw no light but a 
 dan, uncertain flicker, as of a fire just expiring. With 
 his finger on the trigger of his rifle, Kenton stepped 
 boldly forward. The camp was deserted. He ap- 
 proached the fire, and here a sight presented itself 
 which chilled every vein in his body with horror. 
 Lying in the ashes of the fire, he saw the skull and 
 the charred remains of a human being! Kenton's 
 brave heart sank within him, and, resting the butt of 
 his rifle on the ground, he gazed at the smouldering 
 pile with feelings of apprehension mingled with the 
 profoundest sorrow. The unfortunate Hendricks had 
 evidently been burned to death by his savage captors, 
 and Kenton bitterly reproached himself for having 
 left him to his fate at a time when rescue might have 
 been, if not comparatively easy, at least not impossi- 
 ble. Slowly, and with the utmost dejection, he re- 
 turned with his comrades to the cabin at Washing- 
 ton, and once more prepared to live the quiet and 
 solitary life of the woodsman. 
 
 The settlers did not airain see the face of a human 
 
 o 
 
 being until the month of September, when they acci- 
 dentally met a white man who, like them, was wan- 
 dering through the woods on a hunting excursion. 
 From this man they learned, for the first time, that 
 the interior of the country had been opened to 
 settlement; and, as they longed to be once more 
 among thjir countrymen, they broke up their 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 381 
 
 camp and accompanied him, at his request, to 
 Boonesboroucjh. 
 
 O 
 
 Kenton was now about twenty-one years old. His 
 long sojourn in the wilderness had inured him to every 
 hardship ; and, though he had not had much personal 
 experience among the Indians, his boldness and con- 
 tempt for every thing which savored of fear, at once 
 marked him as a man who would be eminently useful 
 in Indian warfare. 
 
 For two or three years subsequent to his arrival at 
 Boonesborough, Kenton was employed constantly as 
 a spy. His services were of great value, and he soon 
 came to be a universal favorite. By Boone, in par- 
 ticular, he was regarded with the highest esteem 
 and affection; and on one occasion, as we have seen, 
 he was the means of saving the life of this famous 
 pioneer. 
 
 Celebrated among the exploits of Kenton is his 
 remarkable adventure while scouting with an expe- 
 dition led by Boone against a small Indian town on 
 Paint Creek. After crossing the Ohio he went ahead 
 of the main body to make observations. He was sud- 
 denly startled by a loud laugh from a thicket into 
 which he was about to enter, and, concealing him- 
 self behind a tree, he soon saw two Indians, mounted 
 on a small pony, coming toward him. They seemed 
 to be in a most agreeable mood, for they talked and 
 laughed gleefully as they rode along. Kenton waited 
 patiently. In a moment they came within range. He 
 raised his gun, aimed deliberately, and, to his surprise, 
 both fell one being killed and the other grievously 
 
382 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 wounded; and thus a single ball was made to do 
 double execution. 
 
 Before the report of his gun had died away, Ken- 
 ton bounded forward, with his scalping-knife and 
 tomahawk drawn. To take the scalp of the dead 
 Indian was the work of but an instant; and he then 
 turned to the wounded savage, intending to dispatch 
 him. The fellow was sorely hurt ; but, seeing Ken- 
 ton's purpose, he drew his tomahawk from his belt 
 and hurled it at him with all the violence which de- 
 spair can lend. The dangerous missile fortunately 
 did him no harm, and Kenton quickly overcame his 
 enemy's resistance and sank his tomahawk in his 
 head. 
 
 While in the act of scalping the second Indian, a 
 noise in the bushes on his right caused Kenton to 
 quickly leave his victim and place himself on his 
 guard. Instantly he saw two savages, about twenty 
 feet distant, taking aim at him, and he sprang quickly 
 to one side. The report of the rifles followed imme- 
 diately, and the balls whistled close to his ears. 
 
 Kenton now fled to the shelter of the wood, but, 
 being hard-pressed, was obliged to stop and tree. 
 He commenced to reload his rifle, but, before he 
 had finished, he saw, to his despair, about a dozen 
 Indians emerge from a canebrake and make directly 
 for the place where he had concealed himself. 
 
 Escape now seemed to be impossible, and Kenton 
 was preparing to sell his life as dearly as possible, 
 when he heard a ringing voice in the rear, which he 
 recognized as that of Boone, shouting to him to keep 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 383 
 
 his stand. Immediately the brave old pioneer ap- 
 peared at the head of his men, and, with a shout 
 of defiance, rushed forward to attack the enemy. 
 Halting, he gave the order to fire, and the Indians 
 were given so warm a reception that they quickly 
 abandoned their purpose and fled in confusion. Ken- 
 ton then left his cover, ran forward and scalped the 
 prostrate Indian. 
 
 Soon after this occurrence Kenton was taken pris- 
 oner and led into captivity. The story of his life 
 among the savages is perhaps the most remarkable 
 of all events connected with Western adventure. 
 It seems almost past belief that one man could have 
 passed through an experience so varied; and we 
 must search history in vain to find a more striking 
 illustration of the correctness of the saying that 
 Fiction can relate nothing so improbable but that 
 Truth can parallel it. Kenton was, during his cap- 
 tivity, forced to run the gauntlet eight times ; he was 
 three times tied to the stake, and he was repeatedly 
 subjected to every species of injury and torture which 
 a fiendish and enraged enemy can invent or an un- 
 happy prisoner can suffer. " For three weeks he was 
 seesawing between life and death, and during the 
 whole time he was perfectly passive. No wisdom 
 or foresight or exertion could have saved him. Fort- 
 une fought his battle from first to last, and seemed 
 determined to permit nothing else to interfere." The 
 story of Kenton's captivity is related, in substance, 
 as follows, by Mr. William A. Crafts in his "Pio- 
 neers in the Settlement of America:" 
 23 
 
384 TH E BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 "Daring in his excursions, and frequently exposed 
 to danger, Kenton at length found that these risks 
 could not always be incurred with impunity. Some 
 horses having been stolen by a party of Indians, 
 Kenton and a few companions started in pursuit, 
 determined to recover them. They followed the 
 trail, watching for an opportunity to surprise them ; 
 but before such a chance occurred the Indians 
 reached their village. Entering the village with 
 his comrades in the night, while its dusky inhabit- 
 ants, unsuspicious that they had been followed, were 
 all asleep, the little party not only recovered the 
 stolen horses, but took several belonging to the 
 Indians, and started back for Kentucky. They 
 made all haste to the Ohio; but when they reached 
 that river the waters were high, and a gale made 
 them so rough that there was danger of losing the 
 horses if they attempted to cross, and this was a 
 risk of bringing their bold enterprise to an end not 
 to be thought of. They accordingly waited for the 
 wind to subside; but this delay was as fatal as they 
 feared the attempt to cross the river would be ; for 
 the Indians, who had discovered their loss with the 
 earliest dawn, had followed, and now overtook them. 
 Kenton, less cunning or less fortunate than he had 
 hitherto been, was captured, while his companions 
 succeeded in making their escape. 
 
 "When Boone was captured he had never done any 
 thing while fighting the savages which specially ex- 
 cited their vindictiveness, and his dignified bearing, 
 as well as his fame as a skillful hunter, which had 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 3$; 
 
 spread even among the Indians, secured their respect 
 and good-will. But Kenton was known to them cither 
 personally or as one of a class of daring scouts and 
 raiders who were their most active enemies, while he 
 was now caught in the act of running off their horses, 
 and they were disposed to show him neither respect 
 nor mercy. Telling him that since he was so fond of 
 horses he should ride one of their best animals, they 
 bound him upon a half-broken, unbridled colt, which 
 was then turned loose, to follow the party as it chose. 
 Unused to such a burden, the animal reared and 
 dashed about in the wildest manner, to the great de- 
 light of the Indians and the fearful suffering of Ken- 
 ton. Rushing unguided through thickets and under 
 low-hanging branches, the horse seemed to manifest 
 the vicious spirit of his masters, and the unfortunate 
 prisoner was terribly lacerated and bruised. 
 
 "In this manner he was carried by degrees to the 
 famous Indian town of old Chillicothe, where differ- 
 ent methods of torture common among most of the 
 savage tribes were resorted to. He was painted 
 black and bound to a stake for twenty-four hours, 
 subjected to insults and indignities from women and 
 children, and expecting a slow and cruel death at the 
 hands of the men ; then compelled to run the gaunt- 
 let between two lines of savages, men, women, and 
 children, to the number of several hundred, who, 
 with switches, clubs, and even knives, struck at him 
 as he passed. As usual, he was told that if he 
 reached the council-house at the end of the lines he 
 would be spared further punishment ; but when, with 
 
388 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 desperate effort, he had almost reached this goal of 
 safety, he was struck down by a club in the hands of a 
 warrior, and then beaten by all who could reach him 
 till nearly senseless. This torture was repeated, with 
 slight variation, as he was carried from town to town 
 and exhibited, previous to his ultimate doom of being 
 burned at the stake. 
 
 "The final punishment was to take place at San- 
 dusky, and Kenton arrived there just as the rene- 
 gade Girty returned from an unsuccessful expedi- 
 tion against the frontier settlements of Pennsylvania. 
 Equal to the most malignant savage, Girty struck 
 the weak and suffering prisoner to the ground, and 
 was about committing further violence, when Kenton 
 called him by his name and demanded his protec- 
 tion. For once the infamous wretch, who never 
 before or after was known to show mercy, listened 
 to this appeal. Kenton, indeed, had a claim upon 
 him which, with all his hatred of his, own race, he 
 could not but recognize, for in their youth he had 
 saved Girty's life-. Remembering this, the white 
 savage interceded for the captive, and saved him 
 from the stake ; and, taking him to his cabin, cared 
 for him till he recovered his strength Then, how- 
 ever, the Indians seemed to repent of their leniency; 
 and, holding 'another council, they again condemned 
 Kenton to be burned. But fortunately a British 
 agent was present, and succeeded in having him 
 transferred to himself as a prisoner of war, when 
 he was carried to Detroit. With two other Amer- 
 icans he escaped from Detroit; and, running the 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 389 
 
 risk of recapture and certain death, he again trav- 
 ersed the Indian country, and after a month's travel 
 through the wilderness he reached Kentucky." 
 . The following interesting anecdote of Kenton, 
 which has rarely been in print, but which illustrates 
 his character in a most striking and pleasing manner, 
 is taken from a published source: 
 
 "Kenton was a great smoker, the most important 
 supplies, next to his weapons, being his pipe, pouch, 
 and tobacco. Food and clothing he could capture 
 with his gun, but not so his tobacco ; and hence his 
 zeal to lay in a stock of his luxury before setting out 
 on any expedition. But fire to light his pipe was not 
 so readily obtainable, it being no little trouble to 
 ignite tobacco by flint and steel. It will be remem- 
 bered that friction matches were not in common use 
 until years after Kenton's day. 
 
 "At one time, when a prisoner in the hands of the 
 British at Detroit, he was particularly admired by 
 English officers on account of his great strength and 
 courage, and the many remarkable exploits for which 
 he was famous; and one of these officers, observing 
 his fondness for smoking and the difficulty in light- 
 ing a pipe, presented Kenton with a powerful pocket 
 burning-glass, or lens, by which he could easily focus 
 the rays of the sun on the tobacco and set it on fire. 
 This thing worked charmingly, and for many years, 
 wherever he went, held its place in the pouch with 
 his pipe and tobacco. 
 
 "It is an incident in which the sun-glass acted a 
 significant part, which I have resolved to relate. 
 
39O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 "A summer or two after he became possessor of 
 the glass, he was again taken captive by a party of 
 Indians, who, recognizing him at once, resolved to 
 torture him to death immediately, so as to rid them- 
 selves of so formidable an enemy before -he should 
 have time or chance to escape. A stake was driven 
 into the ground, and a quantity of dry leaves and 
 wood piled about it, and then the chief spoke, in 
 broken English : 
 
 " ' White chief hungry; eat fire, he feel better!' 
 
 " Kenton replied by asking the privilege of smoking 
 his pipe before burning. Now the Indians of certain 
 tribes were always singularly generous in response 
 to such requests, especially as toward pipe and to- 
 bacco they entertained a sort of religious deference. 
 Of these they never robbed prisoners nor despoiled 
 the bodies of the slain; and among the few sacred 
 objects buried with the dead, pipes were always in- 
 cluded. It was on account of this superstitious sanc- 
 tity that the pipe bore such an important part in the 
 ceremonies of a council, and was always smoked as 
 a bond of strength between tribes entering into 
 treaty together. They never denied a captive's re- 
 quest for a smoke, and, therefore, Kenton was imme- 
 diately gratified by a grunt of assent.. 
 
 "After securing his feet more firmly with leathern 
 thongs for they knew too well his daring and prow- 
 ess to give him any advantage they unbound his 
 hands that he might fill and light his pipe, and enjoy 
 his last earthly smoke. Deliberately he proceeded 
 to crumble up the tobacco and pack it into the 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 39! 
 
 bowl. This done, he placed the long wooden stem 
 in his mouth, and seemed ready for flint, steel, and 
 tinder with which to light the luxury. With another 
 grunt a red man passed him the customary imple- 
 ments;, but, to his great surprise, Kenton refused 
 them. 
 
 " Then, with a dramatic gesture, he extended his 
 right hand toward the sun in mid-heaven, it being 
 about noon, and holding it thus with the burning- 
 glass clasped between the thumb and forefinger, he 
 dexterously brought it to a focus on the contents of 
 his pipe, which in this way was quickly ignited, and 
 in a moment he was puffing clouds of smoke from 
 his lips. 
 
 "This was beyond the wits of the savages. The 
 lens being of glass, and transparent, they had not 
 observed it, and evidently believed that he had lighted 
 his pipe by simply letting the sunlight pass through 
 the circle formed by his thumb and finger. All un- 
 concerned he puffed away, while they gathered in an 
 excited group a few yards distant, and discussed the 
 wonder in grunts and mutterings. 
 
 "In a few minutes he had exhausted the contents 
 of the pipe-bowl, and proceeded to refill it. At this 
 the red men became silent, and watched him as if he 
 were a supernatural being. 
 
 " While crumbling the tobacco the glass lay unseen 
 at his side ; and when he was ready to light up again, 
 with another still more dramatic gesture, he seized 
 the lens and held it toward the sun, and, with three 
 or four cries of mysterious and startling import to 
 
39 2 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the Indians, began whiffing the bluish smoke as 
 before. 
 
 " By this time the superstition of the savages was 
 in full operation, and they were ripe for almost any 
 display of Kenton's supposed supernatural power. 
 Probably no people on the whole globe were ever 
 more sensitive to such influences than the native 
 tribes of North America. What they could not com- 
 prehend they dreaded with craven fear, especially 
 if it emanated from the sun or clouds. Seeing his 
 advantage, Kenton stretched forth his hand again, 
 holding the glass so as to kindle the leaves near him. 
 Then, with a strange, wild cry, he swung his arms 
 above his head, adroitly shifted the lens to his left 
 hand, and then quickly started a smudge in another 
 place. 
 
 " Next, struggling to his feet, tied though they were, 
 he gave an almost superhuman leap jumping being 
 Kenton's special forte and brought himself to the 
 heap of fagots that had been gathered for his par- 
 ticular entertainment, and, seating himself near them, 
 went through a pantomime more weird than before, 
 whereupon a flame blazed up around the stake, as if 
 the victim were already fastened to it, and ready for 
 torture. 
 
 " His next performance was to beckon to the chief 
 to come and unbind his ankles. The mystified Indian 
 hesitated, but finally ventured cautiously forward, as 
 if not daring to disobey such a man, and began with 
 nervous fingers to fumble at the deerskin door. 
 
 "While thus engaged, Kenton lifted one hand, and 
 
ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 393 
 
 instantly a lurid, blistering point of fire fell on the 
 red man's wrist. With an 'Ugh!' he jerked his 
 hand away, only to feel the burning focus on his head. 
 
 " This was too much for even an Indian's nerves, 
 and, with a cry of terror, the old chief sprang away 
 and ran to the nearest tree, behind which he took 
 shelter. The rest of the savages imitated their 
 leader, leaping behind adjacent trees ; and while, with 
 wondering eyes, they stared at Kenton, he proceeded 
 leisurely to unbind his own ankles. 
 
 "This done, he waved his arms toward the sun, as 
 if giving thanks or invoking further aid; and then 
 went to a powder-horn, dropped by one of the Indi- 
 ans, and withdrawing the stopple, placed it as he 
 wanted it, fixed his sun-glass so that the focus would 
 enter the horn, and, stepping toward the Indians, 
 gesticulated fiercely at them. Instantly there was a 
 vivid flash and a roar, the powder-horn disappeared, 
 and the frightened savages fled as if the 'Great 
 Spirit' had suddenly come to destroy them. 
 
 "At this, Kenton considered himself master of the 
 field, and, in less time than it takes to tell it, flung 
 upon the fire whatever the Indians had left behind 
 them, seized his own property that they had taken 
 from him, gun and garments, and made haste from 
 the scene. 
 
 " A few years later, when peace had been restored 
 between Americans and English, and the Indians 
 were on pacific terms with the ' Hunters of Ken- 
 tucky,' Kenton had the pleasure of meeting at a 
 ' pow-wow ' with some of the warriors who had com- 
 
394 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 posed the party so signally worsted by a sun-glass. 
 They knew him at once, and showed an ungoverna- 
 ble fear as he came forward to shake hands. During 
 the ' pow-pow ' he often detected them gazing at him 
 with furtive glances, and, as he still had the lens, he 
 mischievously seized the first opportunity to call clown 
 fire from the sun to light his pipe again, accompany- 
 ing it with strange gestures. 
 
 " Afterward he learned that they believed him to 
 be in league with the 'Great Spirit,' and able, if he 
 wished, to summon the sun to battle for him." 
 
 II! I 
 
 , ' . ... it i 1 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 
 
 AMONG the stories of adventure, captivity, and 
 providential deliverance related of the early set- 
 tlers, that of JOHN SLOVER is justly famed in the 
 annals of the West. With the single exception of 
 the extraordinary escape of Simon Kenton, that of 
 Slower can fairly be said to be without a parallel. 
 
 John Slover was a native of Virginia. In early 
 youth he was taken prisoner by a band of Indians 
 and carried to Sandusky, where he was raised, and, 
 when he grew up, adopted by his captors. In 1773, 
 at the treaty of Pittsburgh, he was seen and recog- 
 nized by some of his relatives; and at their urgent 
 solicitation he left his savage associates and rejoined 
 his family, with whom he lived in peace and quiet 
 for some years. During the Revolution he served 
 with credit in two campaigns, and after finishing his 
 tour of duty was honorably discharged. 
 
 In 1782, Slover was induced to join an expedition 
 organized under the leadership of the gallant, though 
 unfortunate, William Crawford to proceed against the 
 Wyandot villages on the Sandusky. Although he at 
 first hesitated to take part in an enterprise which had 
 as its object the annihilation of a tribe to which he 
 had formerly belonged, and for which he still enter- 
 
 ( 39S I 
 
396 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 tained many friendly feelings, he at length consented, 
 since he regarded his duty as a citizen paramount to 
 any personal preferences which he might entertain. 
 
 The disastrous issue of Crawford's expedition is 
 told in brief in another place. * The whole body 
 of whites was cut to pieces, and the few who sur- 
 vived were forced to fly for their lives. 
 
 Among the fugitives was John Slover, who, with 
 five companions, attempted to rescue himself by em- 
 ploying the bold strategy of marching, instead of 
 east for the settlements, south-west in the direction 
 of the Shawnee villages, and then following an east- 
 erly course. The party was pursued by mounted 
 Indians, and two or three times came near being 
 surprised, for the savages rode close past them ; but 
 during the first two days they fortunately escaped 
 discovery by hiding themselves in the long and thick 
 prairie grass. 
 
 On the morning of the third day of their flight they 
 were fired upon by a band of Indians, who, it appears, 
 had followed their trail, and, coming up to them, had 
 taken a circuitous route, placed themselves in an 
 advantageous position in front, and awaited their ap- 
 pearance. Two of the men dropped dead. The 
 other four, at the command of Slover, quickly took 
 cover behind trees and prepared to defend them- 
 selves. But they had only two rifles, and their 
 chances of success were very slight; and as one of 
 the Indians called to them in a loud voice request- 
 ing them not to fire, since he would see to it that 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 397 
 
 they were treated well, they lost no time in coming 
 forward and surrendering themselves. One of their 
 number, however, a brave young fellow, named John 
 Paul, preferring flight to captivity, made off, suc- 
 ceeded in outrunning his pursuers, and reached 
 Wheeling in safety. 
 
 The savages had no sooner secured their three 
 captives than one of them, approaching Slover, 
 scrutinized him closely, and then, in tones of min- 
 gled astonishment and indignation, called him by 
 his Indian name. Slover recognized the warrior as 
 one of the most vindictive of the Wyandot braves ; 
 and apprehensive that, on being carried to the In- 
 dian villages, he would immediately be put to the 
 torture for taking up arms against his former breth- 
 ren, he commenced to cast about in his mind some 
 scheme of escape. No opportunity offered, how- 
 ever, and the prisoners were taken to the nearest 
 Indian town, a place named Waughcotomoco, where 
 Simon Kenton, four years before, had been obliged 
 to run the gauntlet. Here the warriors, squaws, and 
 boys came out in a body, surrounded the prisoners, 
 and gave them the greeting customary on such oc- 
 casions, beating them with switches and staves, and 
 offering them other indignities. Finally, the oldest 
 of the men was seized, and, amidst the yells of the 
 savages, was stripped and vigorously rubbed with 
 coal and water until his whole body was perfectly 
 black. Terrified at this harsh treatment, the un- 
 happy captive commenced to cry bitterly, and fre- 
 quently asked Slover whether they intended to burn 
 
398 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 him. Slover was ordered by the Indians not to an- 
 swer; and one of the warriors, seeing the prisoner's 
 agitation, came forward and grasped him in a friendly 
 way around the waist, as if to caress and reassure 
 him, but, suddenly changing his demeanor, tripped 
 him up and threw him with great force to the 
 ground. 
 
 The man again set up a piteous cry, and a second 
 Indian left the crowd and came and sat down by him. 
 In a soothing manner he commenced to rub and pat 
 his belly, uttering honeyed words as he did so. He 
 then turned him over and gently stroked his back. 
 He continued his caresses for some time, until finally 
 he arose, and, with all the force which he could com- 
 mand, gave the poor fellow a tremendous kick in the 
 pit of the stomach. This act was followed by a loud 
 whoop from the assembled body of Indians, a num- 
 ber of whom at once gathered around the pros- 
 trate prisoner and kicked and beat him unmercifully. 
 When they had abused him to their satisfaction, the 
 terrified man was ordered to rise, and the march was 
 resumed. 
 
 At a town several miles distant a second halt was 
 made. This village, as it proved, was the destination 
 of the party, and here the fate of the prisoners was 
 to be decided. On their approach the inhabitants 
 trooped out to meet them, and two long rows were 
 at once formed, extending from the council-house a 
 distance of one hundred and fifty yards. Eager for 
 their prey, the savages immediately stripped the 
 three unfortunate men, and, with a loud and pro- 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 399 
 
 longed whoop, stood in readiness to receive them 
 as they passed between the lines. 
 
 The poor fellow who had been so barbarously 
 treated at Waughcotomoco was destined to once 
 more be the central object of attraction. His body 
 was still black, and he naturally excited the vindic- 
 tiveness of the Indians in the village, who, supposing 
 that he had been marked in this way on account of 
 some great wrong which he had done their brethren, 
 fell upon him with the most fiendish fury. He was 
 started on the race to the goal about twenty yards 
 ahead of his companions, and ordered to run for his 
 life. A terrible yell greeted him as he entered the 
 course at full speed and bounded forward on the race 
 of life and death. At the head of the line a huge 
 warrior, who had stood awaiting him with every mus- 
 cle strained and his club held firmly aloft, dealt him 
 a furious blow, which, striking him fairly, across the 
 small of the back, caused him to double up and roll 
 on the ground. Before his enemies had time to 
 gather around him, he sprang quickly to his feet, and, 
 as agile as a deer, continued his race. A few feet 
 further on a large Indian aimed a blow but missed 
 him. Disappointed and wrathful, the savage hurled 
 his club at the retreating prisoner, which, striking 
 him on the head, felled him once more to the ground ; 
 but he again quickly rose and made a shift to con- 
 tinue his flight. 
 
 Nothing could equal the vindictiveness and cruelty 
 of the Indians. They had prepared themselves with 
 the most formidable weapons, and did not scruple to 
 
466 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 attack him with all the violence which rage can lend 
 to malice. His eyes were blinded by quantities of 
 sand which the Indians dashed into his face ; his flesh 
 was cruelly gashed and hacked by knives and toma- 
 hawks, and, to add to the acuteness of his sufferings, 
 loads of powder were fired into his body, and flam- 
 ing brands were hurled at him from front and rear. 
 -Nerved by terror and despair, the unhappy captive 
 exerted himself with the most gigantic strength, and 
 finally succeeded, though bruised and bleeding in 
 every limb, in reaching the council-house, where he 
 had been told he would be safe from further injury. 
 
 Gaining the post, he grasped it with both hands ; but 
 the Indians, whose fury had not yet been appeased, 
 instantly broke ranks and with the utmost violence 
 tore him away. Meanwhile Slover and his other 
 companion, who had passed almost unregarded 
 through the lines, arrived at the goal in safety. 
 They now witnessed a sight terrible and heart- 
 rending in the extreme. 
 
 The savages immediately commenced to beat their 
 victim with heavy war-clubs, and a scene of the ut- 
 most confusion followed. The prisoner now knew 
 that it was their intention to pound him until he died, 
 and he resisted with all the desperation of a doomed 
 man. He fought and struggled savagely, crying bit- 
 terly all the time, and striving to wrest a tomahawk 
 from his enemies. Every effort was vain; he was 
 beaten for upward of half an hour, and he finally 
 sank to the ground, where, in a few minutes, he 
 breathed his last. The Indians took his scalp, cut 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 46! 
 
 up his body, and stuck his head and quarters upon 
 poles in the center of the village. 
 
 Slover witnessed the fate of his unfortunate friend 
 in deep silence. When he saw the head severed from 
 the trunk and the body divided by the barbarous 
 savages, a cold shudder ran through his frame, and 
 he made an instinctive movement, as if meditating 
 flight; but he checked himself, for he knew that he 
 was in the heart of the Wyandot country, and that any 
 attempt to escape would be attended with immense 
 risks. He still hoped that the Indians, after hearing 
 his defense, would spare him, as he had once been 
 their brother. Upon what feeble grounds this forlorn 
 hope was based, we shall now see. 
 
 The next morning the savages led Slover's sur- 
 viving companion to a neighboring town, for what 
 purpose was not told. He was probably put to 
 death, for he was never afterward heard of. Slover 
 remained in the village. He was not kept long in 
 suspense with regard to his fate, for a solemn coun- 
 cil immediately convened, and he was summoned 
 before it to give an account of his conduct. 
 
 When several of the chiefs had spoken, accusing 
 the captive of faithlessness, and favoring the adop- 
 tion of vigorous measures, Slover was asked what 
 he had to say by way of defense. He arose amid 
 profound silence, and, with the utmost gravity and 
 composure, proceeded to address the braves. He 
 spoke the Indian tongue with fluency, and, as he 
 knew several of the judges intimately, he was con- 
 fident that his cause would have a perfectly impartial 
 24 
 
4O2 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 hearing. The warriors listened to him attentively. 
 His harangue produced a marked impression, and 
 the first day of his trial closed with every thing 
 apparently in his favor. 
 
 On the second day, to Slover's great concern, 
 James Girty, the brother of the notorious renegade, 
 arrived in the village. He was immediately called to 
 the council-room, and asked to give his opinion in 
 the case. In the most emphatic manner Girty pro- 
 nounced against the prisoner. He favored execu- 
 tion, and offered to conduct the prisoner to a 
 neighboring village, where, he said, preparations 
 had been made for burning him at the stake. 
 
 Girty was violently abusive. His argument was 
 impassioned, and the ground which he took was 
 uncompromising in the extreme. Slover feared that 
 his fate was sealed, but, still hopeful and resolute, 
 he rose, and, with all the rough eloquence which 
 he had at his command, replied. Many of the 
 warriors favored the imposition of the death-sen- 
 tence ; but the majority were undecided, and it was 
 determined to wait for a few days before passing 
 judgment. 
 
 Finally a large council of the Shawnee, Delaware, 
 Wyandot, Chippewa and Mingo nations was held 
 in the village, and two messengers were sent to 
 bring Slover before the assembled chiefs. On his 
 first arrival in the town, Slover had been given in 
 charge to an old squaw, who took him into her hut 
 and treated him with the most considerate kindness. 
 When the two warriors came to the cabin to bring 
 
KEMARKAllLE ESCAPES. 403 
 
 Slover before the council, this old woman, fearing 
 that no good was in store for him, quickly hid him 
 under a bear-skin, and then told the emissaries that 
 she had sent him out on an errand, but that he 
 would be back presently. She inquired with great 
 solicitude regarding the intentions of the chiefs. 
 She was told that the probable sentence would be 
 death. At this information she became greatly en- 
 raged, seized a rifle, and said that she would shoot 
 the first man who came to deprive her of her charge. 
 The messengers departed, and the old squaw drew 
 Slover from his hiding-place. 
 
 An earnest conversation now followed between 
 the woman and the unfortunate captive. She told 
 him that he certainly would be doomed to die, and, 
 saying that his only escape was in immediate flight, 
 bade him disguise himself as an Indian and leave 
 the village. This counsel Slover would by no means 
 listen to, for he was apprehensive that his enemies, 
 on discovering his absence, would tomahawk the old 
 woman as being privy to his escape ; and he was too 
 brave and generous to rescue himself at the expense 
 of one so defenseless. She urged him to avail him- 
 self of the opportunity; but he steadily refused, and 
 remained in the cabin awaiting the messengers of 
 death. 
 
 Presently a number of loud halloos were heard, 
 and in a few moments Slover saw through the cracks 
 in the wall a large party of Indians, headed by 
 James Girty, rushing toward the hut. On reaching 
 the door, Girty savagely told the old woman, who 
 
404 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 had gone out to meet him, to deliver up the 
 prisoner. She commenced to cry in a piteous 
 manner, but Girty did not stand on ceremony, and, 
 with a rude oath, pushed her from him and entered. 
 Slover was instantly seized and carried to the center 
 of the village, where he was stripped stark naked 
 and tarred from head to foot. His hands were then 
 bound behind him so that it was almost impossible 
 for him to move them, and he was borne off to a 
 town several miles further on. All the inhabitants 
 thronged to meet him, supposing that to them had 
 fallen the rare good fortune of preparing and wit- 
 nessing his torture. But Girty told them that the 
 most that he could permit, was that they should 
 amuse themselves with the prisoner for a short time. 
 The gauntlet lines were accordingly formed, and 
 the Indians devoted about an hour to clubbing and 
 tormenting the wretched victim. 
 
 At a small village about two miles from the place, 
 where Slover was obliged to run the gauntlet, the 
 party made a final halt. Here the prisoner's heart 
 sunk within him when he saw that preparations had 
 been made to burn him. A stout hickory pole had 
 been sunk in the ground, and a quantity of fagots 
 had been collected and piled in a heap. Girty turned 
 to Slover and asked him if he knew what these 
 preparations meant, telling him at the same time 
 to cheer up, as there would be fine sport in the 
 evening. 
 
 After giving a few orders, Girty seized the 
 prisoner and rudely dragged him to the stake. The 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 405 
 
 Indians gathered in a circle, and as Girty assisted 
 by two or three stalwart warriors bound Slover's 
 hands firmly behind him, and then lashed him 
 securely to the stake, they set up a prolonged and 
 unearthly yell, and commenced to perform their 
 dances. 
 
 The prisoner now resigned himself to fate, and, 
 calm and resolute, watched the preparations which 
 were being made, with a fortitude truly heroic. The 
 fagots were carried and heaped around him as high 
 as his hips, and the savages then commenced to tor- 
 ment him with threats and blows. To inflame the 
 passions of the men, an orator mounted a -stand at 
 the door of the council-room and commenced to 
 address the assembly, exclaiming vehemently and 
 gesticulating wildly as he did so. He wrought so 
 powerfully upjn the feelings of the multitude that 
 they gr**.w in: oatient of delay, and finally one of the 
 squaws was directed to go and bring a brand from 
 a fire, in order that the execution might take place 
 forthwith. 
 
 The flaming torch was procured, and a light was 
 immediately applied to the heap of timber. A blaze 
 at once sprang up; the fire was communicated to the 
 whole of the pile, and before long the flames were 
 circling around the unfortunate victim. 
 
 During the afternoon the wind had been quite 
 high, but there had been few clouds. At the critical 
 moment, however, the sky suddenly became dark- 
 ened, the wind subsided, and, to the dismay of the 
 Indians and the inexpressible astonishment of Slover, 
 
406 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 a copious shower of rain fell. The blaze, which was 
 mounting high and becoming severely hot, was im- 
 mediately extinguished. The rain continued to fall, 
 and soon came down in torrents, so that the Indians 
 were forced to take shelter, and Slover was drenched 
 from head to foot. 
 
 In about two hours the rain ceased. Execution 
 was, of course, out of the question that evening; but 
 the savages were determined not to lose their sport 
 altogether, and accordingly surrounded the captive, 
 and entertained themselves by yelling, performing 
 their dances, and striking and kicking the victim 
 until about eleven o'clock, when they withdrew to 
 rest. Before leaving, however, they unbound Slover, 
 and led him into a block-house, where they pin- 
 ioned his arms tightly, and then fastened one end 
 of a stout thong around his neck, tying the other to 
 a beam. After binding him in this manner, they left 
 him under a strong guard, and bade him good night, 
 first exhorting him, however, to take a good sleep, as 
 'he would have to " eat fire in the morning." 
 
 The guard, which had been set to watch over 
 Slover, consisted of three burly Indians. Two of 
 them were young fellows, who had been with the 
 party which captured him. The third was an old 
 and very shrewd savage, who evidently was deter- 
 mined to keep on the watch during the whole of 
 the night, for he told his companions to lie down 
 and leave the prisoner to him. 
 
 Slover was too anxious to sleep; and the old mn.n, 
 seeing that he was wakeful, lighted his pipe and 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 407 
 
 commenced to talk to him. He had a great deal to 
 say in praise of the two Girtys. His admiration for 
 Simon was without bounds. James, he said, was. as 
 true an Indian, and had as good a heart as his 
 brother; but, he added, he was not so valuable a 
 man on the war-path. " He say all the time dam, 
 dam," said the old savage; "Simon say dam, too," 
 he said, "but," he added emphatically, "Simon say 
 dam Simon act dam." When the Indian had ex- 
 hausted the subject of the Girtys, he commenced to 
 talk to Slover about the pleasure which he and his 
 companions expected to have in witnessing the 
 torture on the following day, and, as he was ex- 
 ceedingly garrulous, he entertained his listener by 
 a number of stories of the sufferings of prisoners 
 whom he had seen burned at the stake. 
 
 During this time, Slover had been revolving in his 
 mind the chances which he had of making an escape. 
 He cursed the talkative old Indian a thousand times 
 in his heart, and anxiously waited for him to drop 
 asleep. Finally he determined to feign extreme 
 wearisomeness, and, at the most interesting portion 
 of one of the old man's stories, rolled over on one 
 side and commenced to snore. The Indian, not 
 relishing this inattention in the prisoner, poked him 
 with a stick, and told him to wake up. 
 
 "Story mighty good," he said; "much fun." 
 
 "Shut up, d n you," replied Slover in an exas- 
 perated tone; "I "am tired, and want to sleep." 
 
 The Indian did not heed this emphatic remon- 
 strance, and continued to talk. Slover turned on his 
 
408 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 side, and soon fell, to all seeming, into a profound 
 sleep. At length the old man stopped talking, put 
 out -his pipe, yawned, and laid himself down by the 
 fire. In a moment he arose, and, going to the pris- 
 oner, carefully examined the fastenings of the cords 
 and tightened the knots. Satisfied that every thing 
 was secure, he then drew his blanket around him, 
 placed himself on the ground as before, and was 
 .soon sound asleep. 
 
 Slover now set about to free his wrists from the 
 thongs which bound them. This was an undertaking 
 of extreme difficulty, for they had been drawn so tight 
 that they cut deep into his flesh; and not only could 
 he not move his hands, but he could scarcely work 
 his fingers. By a desperate effort, however, he suc- 
 ceeded in slipping the cords forward, and finally found 
 his hands at perfect liberty, although the skin was 
 almost entirely rubbed off in the attempt. With 
 trembling haste Slover next seized the leathern 
 thong which was fastened around his neck, and 
 endeavored to disengage it. It was of buffalo hide, 
 well-seasoned, and was as thick as his thumb, and 
 hard as iron. He could not loosen the knots, and to 
 gnaw it in two was, on account of its thickness and 
 hardness, impossible. Whfle Slover was desperate- 
 ly striving to free himself, the old Indian, disturbed 
 probably by the loudness of his breathing for the 
 excitement under which he labored was so great 
 that he drew his breath in short, thick pants 
 suddenly awoke. 
 
 Slover immediately placed his hands behind his 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES 409 
 
 back, and, affecting restlessness, turned over so that 
 he faced the Indian. The old savage arose, yawned 
 heavily, poked the fire, gave a look at the prisoner, 
 and then stretched himself on the ground. Slover 
 thanked his good fortune, and again went to work 
 with a will. He jerked the rope, which bound his 
 neck, vigorously, and at length, to his great joy, it 
 came untied. 
 
 To make his way from the room and out of the 
 village was now an easy task. Slover knew that he 
 had not a moment to spare, for day was just break- 
 ing, and in less than half an hour his absence would 
 be discovered. He ran with all speed for a corn-field, 
 intending to conceal himself. While on his way he 
 came very near stumbling over a squaw, who was 
 sleeping with two children on the ground ; but, 
 happily, discovering them just in time, he ran on, 
 soon passed the corn-field, and reached an orchard 
 beyond. Fortune seemed to have taken him under 
 her especial protection, for here he found a number of 
 horses, and, quickly going up to one, he fastened a 
 halter which he had made from the cord, which 
 bound his arms, around its neck, mounted its back, 
 and, urging it to its utmost speed, was soon flying 
 across the country in the direction of home. 
 
 The animal proved to possess great power and 
 spirit, and, although but a young colt, bore its rider 
 most handsomely, never once showing a disposition 
 to stop. The sun was high in the heavens before 
 Slover checked his speed, and then he stopped only 
 to afford his horse time to breathe, preparatory to 
 
4-IO THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 plunging into the Scioto River which obstructed his 
 path. The colt swam bravely and was nearly across, 
 when he commenced to fail. Slover, keenly sensitive 
 to every sound, thought that he heard a cry as of 
 pursuers in his rear, and, nerved to desperation, he 
 struck his noble animal savagely, and by a hard 
 effort urged it up the bank. It was now ten o'clock 
 in the morning, and Slover had gone a distance of 
 not less than fifty miles. He dismounted and allowed 
 his horse about five minutes' rest. The cry which he 
 had heard was repeated, and, straining hi* eyes, 
 Slover could distinguish, far behind, half a dozen 
 horsemen moving across the plain from the direction 
 in which he had come. He now knew that he was 
 hotly pursued, and he sprang lightly upon his horse, 
 and continued his mad flight. 
 
 The frantic speed at which Slover galloped his 
 animal was enough to wear out nerves and sinews 
 of iron, and, as he advanced, the poor beast began 
 to show signs of failing. At length, about three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, after running a distance of 
 more than -seventy miles, the horse stumbled and 
 fell headlong. Slover instantly sprang from its back 
 and continued his flight on foot until dusk, when he 
 halted for a moment. Far behind him he heard a 
 prolonged halloo, and he reluctantly came to the 
 conclusion that he was still pursued. Fortune again 
 declared in his favor. It presently grew dark, and, 
 as the moon did not rise until late, he knew that his 
 pursuers would be obliged to halt until they could 
 again discover his trail. He ran until ten o'clock, 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 4! I 
 
 and then, utterly overcome with fatigue, he sank to 
 the ground. He was seized with a violent fit, and 
 lay for two hours quivering in every limb. His 
 resolution was not, however, to be quelled, and as 
 soon as the moon rose he sprang to his feet and 
 rushed forward as if just starting out on a journey. 
 He made all speed until morning, and then, chang- 
 ing his course, he went more slowly, carefully cov- 
 ering his trail as he did so. 
 
 For two days longer Slover continued his weary 
 journey. On the evening of the third day of his 
 flight he reached the Muskingum River, which he 
 swam at Old Comer's Town. His flesh, he was 
 entirely naked, was blistered and peeled from head 
 to toe, and he was nearly dead from exhaustion. 
 Strange as it may seem, however, he suffered com- 
 paratively little from hunger, and indeed had scarcely 
 any inclination to eat. The only food which he tasted 
 during his journey was a few raspberries and two 
 crawfishes, which he caught in the Stillwater River 
 and devoured raw. 
 
 Finally, four days after his escape, Slover reached 
 the Ohio River opposite Wheeling. He saw a man 
 standing on an island in the middle of the stream, 
 and, calling to him, he told him his name and the 
 circumstances in which he was placed. The fellow 
 soon came to his rescue and rowed him across, and 
 Slover thus returned to his friends after an ex- 
 perience which, for thrilling adventure, daring, and 
 hardship, has rarely been paralleled. 
 
412 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 THE following narrative of the captivity and won- 
 derful escape of the two JOHNSON boys, JOHN and 
 HENRY, aged respectively thirteen and eleven years, 
 is taken from Pritts's "Border Life:" 
 
 They lived at a station on the west side of the 
 Ohio River, near Indian Short Creek, and, being at 
 some distance from the house, engaged in the sport- 
 ive amusements of youth, they became fatigued, and 
 seated themselves on an old log for the purpose of 
 resting. They presently observed two men coming 
 toward them, whom they believed to be white men 
 from the station, until they approached so close as to 
 leave no prospect of escape by flight, when, to their 
 great grief, they saw that two Indians were beside 
 them. They were made prisoners and taken about 
 four miles, when, after partaking of some roasted 
 meat and parched corn given them by their captors, 
 they arranged for the night by being placed between 
 the two Indians and each encircled in the arms of the 
 one next him. 
 
 Henry, the younger of the brothers, had grieved 
 much at the idea of being carried off by the Indians, 
 and during his short but sorrowful journey across the 
 hill had wept immoderately. John had in vain en- 
 deavored to comfort him with the hope that they 
 should be enabled to elude the savages and return 
 to the hearth of their parents and brethren. He re- 
 fused to be comforted. The ugly red man,- with his 
 tomahawk and scalping-knife, which had often been 
 called in to quiet the cries of his infancy, was now 
 actually before him; and every scene of torture and 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 413 
 
 of torment which had been depicted by narration to 
 his youthful eye was now present to his terrified im- 
 agination, heightened by the thought that they were 
 about to be re-enacted on himself. In anticipation of 
 this horrid doom, for some time he wept in bitterness 
 and affliction. But when the fire was kindled at night, 
 the supper prepared and offered to him, all idea of 
 his future fate was merged in their present kindness ; 
 and Henry soon sank to sleep, though inclosed in 
 horrid hug by savage arms. 
 
 It was different with John. He felt the reality of 
 their situation ; he was alive to the anguish which he 
 knew would agitate the bosom of his mother, and he 
 thought over the means of allaying it so intensely that 
 sleep was banished from his eyes. Finding the others 
 all locked in deep repose, he disengaged himself from 
 the embrace of the savage at his side and walked to 
 the fire. To test the soundness of their sleep, he re- 
 kindled the dying blaze and moved freely about it. 
 All remained still and motionless, no suppressed 
 breathing betrayed a feigned repose. He gently 
 twitched the sleeping Henry, and, whispering softly 
 in his ear, bade him get up. Henry obeyed, and they 
 both stood by the fire. 
 
 "I think," said John, "we had better go home 
 now." 
 
 "Oh!" replied Henry, ''they will follow and catch 
 us." 
 
 "Never fear that," rejoined John, "we'll kill them 
 before we go." 
 
 The idea was for some time opposed by Henry, 
 
414 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 but when he beheld the savages so soundly asleep, 
 and listened to his brother's plan of executing his 
 wish, he finally consented to act the part prescribed 
 him. 
 
 The only gun which the Indians had was resting 
 against a tree, at the foot of which lay their* toma- 
 hawks. John placed it on a log, with the muzzle 
 near to the head of one of the savages, and, leaving 
 Henry with his finger on the trigger, ready to pull 
 on the signal being given, he repaired to his own sta- 
 tion. Holding in his hand one of their tomahawks, 
 he stood astride of the other Indian, and, as he raised 
 his arm to deal death to the sleeping savage, Henry 
 fired, and, shooting off the lower part of the Indian's 
 jaw, called to his brother, "Lay on; for I've done for 
 this one" seized up the gun and ran off. The first 
 blow of the tomahawk took effect on the back of the 
 neck and was not fatal. The Indian attempted to 
 spring up, but John repeated his strokes with such 
 force and so quickly that he soon brought him again 
 to the ground, and leaving him dead proceeded on 
 after his brother. 
 
 They presently came to a path which they recol- 
 lected to have traveled the preceding evening, and, 
 keeping along it, arrived at the station awhile before 
 day. The inhabitants were, however, all up, and in 
 much uneasiness for the fate of the boys; and when 
 they came near, and heard a well-known voice ex- 
 claim, in accents of deep distress, "Poor little fel- 
 lows! they are either killed or taken prisoners" John 
 called aloud, "No, mother, we are here again." 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES, 415 
 
 When the tale of their captivity and the means by 
 which they had effected their deliverance was told, 
 they did not obtain full credence. Piqued at the 
 doubt expressed by some, John observed, "You had 
 better go and see." 
 
 "But can you again find the spot," said one? 
 
 "Yes," replied he, "I hung up my hat at the turn- 
 ing-out place, and can soon show you the spot." 
 
 Accompanied by several of the men, John returned 
 to the theater of his daring exploits, and the truth 
 of his statement received ample confirmation. The 
 savage who had been tomahawked was lying dead 
 by the fire ; the other had crawled some distance, but 
 was tracked by his blood until found, when it was 
 agreed to leave him, "as he must die at any rate." 
 
 THE following account of the escape of four white 
 youths is from the "Pioneers in the Settlement of 
 America:" 
 
 In 1785, a Colonel Pope, who lived near Louisville, 
 employed a private teacher to instruct his own chil- 
 dren and those of some neighbors, among whom 
 were two sons of Colonel Linn, who had been killed 
 several years before this date. 
 
 One holiday in February the two LINNS, with three 
 other boys, went out on a hunting excursion; for, 
 though none of them were above the age of thirteen 
 or fourteen, they were accustomed to the use of fire- 
 arms, and were somewhat skilled in hunting the 
 smaller game. Ambitious to enjoy all the delights 
 
41 6 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 and freedoms of a hunter's life, they constructed a 
 slight shelter, built a fire, and encamped for the 
 night near some ponds which were frequented by- 
 swans and ducks. A slight snow during the night 
 did not disturb their slumbers, and in the morning 
 they were awake early, and eager to resume their 
 sport; but, as they were setting out for the ponds, 
 they found themselves surrounded by a party of 
 Indians, who had been attracted by their camp-fire 
 and lain near them all night. The elder Linn and 
 one of his companions started to run ; but they were 
 overtaken, and Linn, who was rather stout and 
 clumsy, was called by the Indians "The Little Fat 
 Bear," while the other, who was an agile and swift 
 runner, was named "The Buck-Elk." 
 
 The Indians soon moved away with their young 
 captives, and, crossing the Ohio in canoes, pursued 
 their journey toward Northern Indiana. The boys, 
 knowing they must make the best of their ill-luck, 
 and not being ill-treated, marched on without a mur- 
 mur, and perhaps not altogether unpleasantly ex- 
 cited by their adventure. Their patient endurance, 
 and the interest which they manifested in the inci- 
 dents of the journey, won the good-will of the In- 
 dians, who promised themselves the satisfaction of 
 making braves of these young heroes. Arriving at 
 the village of their captors, they received, as usual, 
 the taunts and abuse of the women and children. 
 These they bore as long as they could; but when the 
 Indian boys resorted to blows their Kentucky blood 
 was aroused, and the younger Linn, being assailed 
 
MASSACRE OF GENERAL OUSTER AND COMMAND BY THE SIOUX INDIANS. 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 419 
 
 by a boy larger than himself, gave him a left-handed 
 blow which knocked him down, to the great delight 
 of the older savages. A general attack by the young 
 Indians followed; but the white boys were braver 
 than their adversaries, and, standing together, they 
 displayed such pluck against great odds that their 
 captors interfered and protected them from further 
 annoyance. 
 
 The qualities thus displayed by the boys were such 
 as to commend them to the savages, and they at once 
 became favorites, and were adopted into the families 
 of their captors. One of them fell to the lot of an 
 Indian belonging to a distant town, whither he went 
 with his master, and was never seen again by his 
 comrades. The others remained in the same village ; 
 and, as there was nothing else to do, with the readi- 
 ness of youth to adapt itself to circumstances, they 
 entered with alacrity into the sports of the Indians, 
 and became apparently so well pleased with their 
 free life that their captors ceased to be suspicious of 
 their desire to escape, and they were allowed to go 
 about at will. 
 
 Although the boys entered freely into the sports 
 of the Indian youth, and apparently were not dis- 
 satisfied with their position, they were ever on the 
 \vatch for an opportunity to escape. The spring and 
 summer passed, however, without any chance to make 
 the attempt ; but in the autumn the Indian braves set 
 out in separate parties for their annual hunt, leaving 
 only the old men and the women and children at 
 home. With the increased possibility of escape, the 
 
 SCO 
 
42O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 boys became more anxious than ever to return to 
 their home ; but, as the days passed, and the desired 
 opportunity did not occur, they became more des- 
 perate, and at last took advantage of a chance which, 
 at an earlier period, they would not have dared to try. 
 They went out one day accompanied by an aged In- 
 dian man and a squaw, and encamped at a distance 
 from the village for the purpose of hunting and fish- 
 ing-. This seemed to them the last chance of escape, 
 and they resolved to improve it. But a difficulty pre- 
 sented itself at the outset: Should they attempt to 
 run away and leave the old warrior and squaw, they 
 would be sure to be pursued by all the motley crew 
 of the village, and probably captured. After consul- 
 tation, therefore, they determined that, in order to 
 see their home and friends again, it was necessary 
 to kill their Indian companions, and, watching their 
 opportunity, they carried their resolution into effect. 
 That young boys like these and the Johnsons could 
 so deliberately resort to blood-shed may seem strange 
 to those reared in the safety of civilized communities. 
 But it must be remembered that they knew the In- 
 dians as deadly enemies of their race, who did not 
 hesitate to massacre helpless women and children of 
 the whites, and who were then wearing as trophies 
 the scalps of their kindred. The two Linns had lost 
 their father by the hands of the savages ; and the 
 atrocities and vindictive cruelty practiced by these 
 enemies were familiar tales. When, reared among 
 such associations and influences, their only hope of 
 seeing their, home again lay in the death of these 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 421 
 
 two beings of a race hated by all the pioneers, it is 
 not strange that even their young hands should per- 
 form the deadly deed. 
 
 Taking their guns, they hastened away from their 
 silenced foes and turned their steps eagerly toward 
 their home, knowing that they must travel southward, 
 and being already accustomed to trace their course 
 not only by the sun and moon but by the hunters' 
 sylvan lore. For three weeks they traveled through 
 the forest, often at night, lying concealed the greater 
 part of the day when they suspected danger, living 
 on nuts and berries and occasionally small game, and 
 practicing the cunning which they had learned from 
 hunters' stories and their experience with the Indians. 
 At last they reached the Ohio, and, coming opposite 
 Louisville, they fired their guns to attract attention ; 
 but the people there, supposing it might be a device 
 of the Indians, did not venture to cross. The young 
 fugitives, failing to obtain assistance, went several 
 miles up the bank of the river in search of some 
 canoe or other means of crossing. Finding none, 
 with great labor they constructed a raft, on which 
 three of them embarked; while the elder .Linn, who 
 was an expert swimmer, took to the water and 
 pushed the unwieldy craft, before him, the other 
 three assisting with poles as paddles. In this way 
 they passed slowly across the river, at the same time 
 borne more rapidly down the stream toward Louis- 
 ville, and were discovered by the people there, who 
 hastened to their assistance. It was none too soon ; 
 for just then a band of Indians appeared on the 
 
422 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 opposite shore and commenced firing at them ; and 
 but for help they might again have been captured. 
 Young Linn was nearly exhausted by his efforts and 
 his long exposure in the chilly water, for it was then 
 November, but the prompt care which he received 
 soon restored him to his usual robust health. It is 
 needless to say with what joy the young fugitives 
 were welcomed back by their friends, who had long 
 supposed that they had been murdered by the In- 
 dians. Their comrade who had been separated from 
 them never returned, and it was afterward ascer- 
 tained that he grew to manhood among the Indians, 
 married the sister of a noted chief, and became so 
 attached to the life of a savage that he had no de- 
 sire to return to civilized society. 
 
 WILLIAM KENNAN, a young man of about eighteen 
 years of age, attached to a corps of rangers which 
 accompanied the unfortunate expedition of General 
 Arthur St. Clair against the Indians of the North- 
 west, in the fall of 1791, had a most miraculous es- 
 cape. He was known by his companions in arms as 
 a youth of extraordinary power and activity, and, 
 during the march of the army to the fatal battle- 
 ground, gave several proofs of his physical capacities 
 which amazed the men and officers beyond measure. 
 
 In order that timely warning might be given of 
 the approach of the enemy in case of attack, the 
 corps to which Kennan belonged was posted, the 
 night before the baitlc, some distance in advance of 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 423 
 
 the main body. Young Kennan was placed on guard 
 a little after midnight, with instructions to keep a 
 strict watch until morning. In the exercise of his 
 duty as a sentinel, Kennan paced backward and for- 
 ward over a beat twenty or thirty yards in length. 
 He saw no sign of an enemy until about daybreak, 
 when, just as he reached the farthest point of his 
 beat, he discovered a party of about thirty Indians 
 stealing cautiously toward him. Kennan immediately 
 raised the alarm and beat a hasty retreat. His com- 
 panions were on the alert, and advanced in regular 
 order to confront the savages. Not doubting that 
 the Indians were but a score or two in number, and 
 that the corps would therefore be fully prepared to 
 encounter them, Kennan did not wait for the arrival 
 of his comrades, but suddenly wheeled, presented his 
 rifle, fired at the foremost of the enemy, and then fell 
 on his face in the tall grass. He commenced to re- 
 load, thinking that his comrades would be up in a 
 moment, and charge and rout the Indians ; but to his 
 surprise and alarm, he suddenly heard a voice which 
 he recognized as that of the captain of the rangers, 
 cry in a loud warning tone: "Run, Kennan, or you 
 are a dead man!" Rising on the instant, he discov- 
 ered, to his dismay, that his friends had fled, and that, 
 instead of a few Indians, an overwhelming mass were 
 in furious pursuit. He had, however, very little time 
 to make observations, for a number of warriors were 
 immediately upon him. 
 
 Heading for a ford in the creek which ran be- 
 tween the rangers and the main body, Kennan used 
 
424 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 his utmost exertions to distance his pursuers. About 
 a dozen fleet warriors threw away their guns and 
 dashed after him, yelling at the height of their voices. 
 Before he had gone far, Kennan discovered that his 
 purpose of rejoining the army was likely to be foiled, 
 for a band of savages that had followed the rangers, 
 returning from the pursuit, quickly intercepted him 
 and obliged him to alter his course. By the greatest 
 effort, the fugitive soon succeeded in leaving all of 
 his enemies, with the single exception of a brave and 
 active young chief named Messhawa, behind him ; 
 and a most animated contest now followed between 
 pursuer and pursued. 
 
 Kennan was about eighteen feet in the lead, and, 
 in the circuitous route which he was obliged to take, 
 he had a distance of nearly four hundred yards to go 
 before he could again reach a fordable point of the 
 creek. Both men used their greatest endeavors, but 
 Kennan could not gain on his adversary, nor could 
 Messhawa lessen the distance which intervened. 
 
 As he ran, Kennan occasionally looked back to 
 ascertain what progress his enemy was making. He 
 saw him bending every muscle, and, what greatly 
 heightened his anxiety, he perceived that he held his 
 tomahawk aloft, preparing to throw it. The emer- 
 gency was critical ; and Kennan, knowing that he 
 might at any moment be felled to the ground by a 
 blow from the weapon, promptly resolved to turn and 
 end the contest by a hand-to-hand encounter. 
 
 He accordingly slackened his speed and felt for his 
 tomahawk. His consternation and despair may be 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 425 
 
 conceived when it is stated that he searched for his 
 weapon in vain ; it had slipped from the sheath while 
 he lay prostrate in the thick, rank grass. The young 
 chief was now so close that he was ready to pounce 
 upon his victim; but Kennan, nerved by despair to 
 renewed exertion, sprang forward with such swiftness 
 that he immediately gained ground. A new danger, 
 however, soon presented itself. By keeping his eye 
 almost constantly on his enemy, he had neglected 
 to watch the course which he was taking, and, before 
 he had time to shape it aright, he found that he was 
 approaching the high bank of the creek, near which 
 lay directly in his path a large tree, covered with 
 brush to the height of about ten feet. Messhawa, 
 on seeing that his enemy could not possibly avoid 
 rushing into the trap, uttered a cry of triumph and 
 commenced to swing his tomahawk rapidly, while he 
 redoubled his efforts. Kennan saw at a glance that 
 he had but one alternative: he must either stop short 
 and face the Indian, or he must, by a powerful effort, 
 clear the obstacle. He was wholly defenseless, and, 
 vain as the attempt seemed, he determined to save 
 himself by leaping over the tree. He accordingly 
 gathered all his energies, made a sudden rush for- 
 ward, and, with one prodigious bound, sprang over 
 limbs and brush, and landed safe on the other side. 
 The success of his attempt astonished himself, and it 
 amazed the Indian beyond all power of expression, 
 for, on looking back, he saw Messhawa standing still, 
 looking after him in open-mouthed wonder. Kennan 
 instantly jumped into the creek, made his way to the 
 
426 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 opposite bank, and rejoined the rangers, who re- 
 ceived him with enthusiasm, and heard the story of 
 his remarkable escape with expressions of amazement 
 bordering on incredulity. 
 
 One would suppose that Kennan, after this as- 
 tonishing achievement, would have been content to 
 pass the remainder of the day in the ordinary occu- 
 pations of the soldier, without seeking new opportu- 
 nities of placing his life in jeopardy. But his bravery, 
 strength, and skill were destined to shine even more 
 conspicuously. 
 
 When Kennan came into the camp after his 
 wonderful escape, he found every thing in a bustle of 
 preparation. The Indian attack was expected every 
 minute, and, as no one knew any thing of the 
 strength, position, or intended movements of the 
 enemy, even the coolest heads were vexed and puz- 
 zled. In the midst of the confusion the Indians sud- 
 denly rushed forward from all sides in overwhelming 
 numbers, and *the bloody and unfortunate battle of 
 the 4th of November commenced. The fight con- 
 tinued for three hours, when the whites, completely 
 routed, fled in the most disorderly manner. 
 
 In this sanguinary conflict the corps of the rangers 
 had the responsible and difficult part of protecting 
 the rear of Major Clarke's battalion, to which it was 
 attached. Its leader was killed in the early part of 
 the battle, and its numbers were greatly thinned dur- 
 ing the progress of the fight. When victory finally 
 decided in favor of the Indians, the survivors of the 
 corps were left almost entirely to the mercy of the 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 427 
 
 savages, as they were among the last to leave the 
 field. 
 
 Young Kennan, when the flight commenced, was, 
 with a few brave companions, far in the rear. All 
 the rest of the infantry had made off, and only a 
 small body of horsemen was between the rangers and 
 the pursuing enemy. Seeing his danger, Kennan 
 quickly left the field, and ran off as fleetly as possible, 
 hoping to rescue himself by the means which he had 
 employed so successfully in the early morning. He 
 had the good fortune to outstrip all his pursuers, 
 and, passing horseman after horseman, who regarded 
 him with looks of wonder, as he flew along, gained 
 the front. 
 
 He would readily have escaped all danger of death 
 or capture, had he not, while pressing forward, sud- 
 denly stopped to relieve an unfortunate friend and 
 companion, who had been disabled by a ball which 
 broke his thigh, and who, having in vain besought 
 the horsemen, as they hurried past, to take him up, 
 now called to Kennan in the most piercing tones to 
 carry him from the field. Kennan caught the poor 
 fellow in his arms, placed him on his back and, thus 
 encumbered, continued his flight. For two or three 
 hundred yards he kept his former pace ; but, before 
 long his speed commenced to flag, and he gradually 
 fell behind. The horsemen now overtook him, and, 
 as they came up one by one, he entreated them to 
 relieve him. They all refused, and Kennan, growing 
 more and more exhausted, and seeing that the sav- 
 ages were close on his heels, finally told his unhappy 
 
428 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 friend that he must leave him to his fate, The 
 wounded man set up a cry of distress, and, instead 
 of relaxing his hold around Kennan's neck, clung 
 more firmly than ever. Kennan glanced back, and 
 saw a troop of Indians, not more than twenty yards 
 behind, bending every effort to overtake him. With- 
 out a moment's hesitation, he took his knife and 
 quickly drew it across the fingers of his companion, 
 thus obliging him to release his grasp, and in an in- 
 stant the unfortunate man rolled helpless on the 
 ground, where, a few seconds later, he was toma- 
 hawked by the relentless savages. Kennan was not 
 slow in taking advantage of his opportunity, and he 
 resumed his flight with so great activity that before 
 long he was once more in the van. 
 
 Before attempting to secure his own safety, Ken- 
 nan gave still another instance of his undaunted 
 bravery and generous consideration. While pur- 
 suing his course, he perceived a young man sitting 
 calmly on a log, evidently awaiting with all the un- 
 concern of fortitude and despair, the approach of the 
 Indians. Kennan, although he did not recognize in 
 him an acquaintance, stopped, spoke to him, and told 
 him to rise and accompany him. The young man 
 replied by showing Kennan a wound which had bled 
 so profusely that he was almost dead from exhaus- 
 tion, and he said in a despairing tone that he was too 
 weak to attempt to fly, and would stay where he was, 
 Kennan made no answer, but quickly ran back to a 
 place where he had seen a number of pack-horses 
 , and, laying hold of one by the bridle, he led 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 429 
 
 it to the spot where the stranger sat. The young 
 man looked at him in amazement, and, with tears of 
 gratitude, rose, and by the aid of his benefactor 
 mounted the beast. The animal was but a sorry 
 creature, and would not be forced beyond a slow trot ; 
 but fortunately the Indians had by this time given up 
 the pursuit to plunder the camp, and Kennan succeed- 
 ed in leading his companion to a place of safety. The 
 young man proved to be a Mr. Madison, afterward 
 Governor Madison, of Kentucky. The acquaintance 
 formed between him and his deliverer grew into 
 a warm friendship, which continued uninterrupted 
 through life. 
 
 Mr. Kennan never entirely recovered from the 
 immense exertions which he was compelled to make 
 during this unfortunate expedition. He settled in 
 Fleming County, and continued for many years a lead- 
 ing member of the Baptist Church. He died in 1827. 
 
 THE following incident in frontier life occurred in 
 Western Pennsylvania; 
 
 About the middle of the summer of 1792, a gentle- 
 man named WOODS imprudently removed from the 
 neighborhood of a station, and, for the benefit of his 
 stock, settled on a lonely heath near Beargrass. One 
 morning he left his family, consisting of a wife, a 
 daughter not yet grown, and a lame negro man, and 
 rode off to the nearest station, not expecting to re- 
 turn until night. Mrs. Woods, while engaged in her 
 dairy, was alarmed at seeing several Indians rapidly 
 
BACK-VVOObSMEN. 
 
 approaching the house. She screamed loudly in order 
 to give the alarm, and ran with her utmost speed, in 
 order to reach the house before them. In this she 
 succeeded, but had not time to reach the door until 
 the foremost Indian had forced his way into the 
 house. As soon as he entered, the lame negro 
 grappled him and attempted to throw him upon the 
 floor, but was himself hurled to the ground with vio- 
 lence, the Indian falling upon him. Mrs. Woods was 
 too busily engaged in keeping the door closed against 
 the party without to attend to the combatants, but 
 the lame negro, holding the Indian in his arms, call- 
 ed to the young girl to cut his head off with a very 
 sharp ax which lay under the bed. She attempted 
 to obey, but struck with so trembling a hand that 
 the blow was ineffectual. Repeating her efforts 
 under the direction of the negro, however, she at 
 length wounded the Indian so badly that the negro 
 was enabled to rise and complete the execution. 
 Elated with success, he then called to his mistress, 
 and told her to suffer another Indian to enter, and 
 they would kill them all, one by one. While deliber- 
 ating upon this proposal, however, a sharp firing was 
 heard without, and the Indians quickly disappeared. 
 A party of white men had seen them at a distance, 
 and, having followed them cautiously, had now inter- 
 posed at a very critical moment, and rescued a help- 
 less family from almost certain destruction. 
 
 AMONG the heroic band who guarded the little fort 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 431 
 
 built by Daniel Boone at Boonesborough was a dash- 
 ing and meritorious young officer named SMITH, who 
 had been a major in the militia of Virginia, and who, 
 for his courage and military ability, stood high in the 
 esteem and affections of the veteran pioneer. During 
 the absence of Boone, Smith was frequently called to 
 the command, and several stories are related of the 
 great skill and energy which characterized the dis- 
 charge of his military duties. 
 
 On one occasion, during the captivity of Boone 
 among the Indians at Chillicothe, Major Smith dis- 
 played his daring and shrewdness in a most remark- 
 able manner. A settler named Callaway had a very 
 attractive daughter, who so far won the affections of 
 the young officer that he proposed to her, and, as he 
 was both brave and handsome, he was accepted. 
 
 It happened that one day, in the spring of 1778, 
 this young woman, in company with the two eldest 
 daughters of Daniel Boone, left the fort and walked 
 out for a stroll on the banks of the Kentucky River. 
 Not thinking of danger, the girls rambled for some 
 distance, and did not turn to retrace their steps until 
 late in the afternoon. Returning down the river, they 
 perceived a small canoe concealed in some bushes; 
 and Miss Callaway, who was in a very gay and frolic- 
 some mood, proposed that they should draw the bark 
 from its nook, launch it, and cross the river, in order 
 to visit some friends who lived on the opposite side. 
 She added that this would be an excellent means of 
 testing the devotion of her lover, who, if he really 
 felt for her as he professed, would soon become 
 
432 THE; BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 alarmed at her prolonged absence, order out his men, 
 and scour the whole country in search of her. 
 
 The Boone girls were not disinclined to indulge Miss 
 Callaway's romantic freak, the boat was launched, and 
 in a moment the young women were drifting with the 
 stream. They were totally ignorant of the mea^ 
 governing a boat, and, therefore, instead of bei 
 ried to the point where they proposed to lana 
 were whirled hither and thither at the mercy of the 
 current, which was quite rapid. Alarmed at the un- 
 fortunate issue of the adventure, they commenced to 
 scream for help. As the canoe came to the middle of 
 the stream, it was whirled about swifter and swifter, 
 and, growing more and more unsteady, soon com- 
 menced to fill with water. Fortunately, however, it 
 did not capsize, and it drifted across the river until it 
 finally ran aground on a sand-bar, where its fair occu- 
 pants were thrown violently into the shallow water. 
 
 Alarm now turned to mirth, and the girls, after 
 hastily arranging their dresses, commenced to wade 
 to the shore, laughing merrily over their exciting 
 adventure. To their unspeakable terror, however, 
 just as they reached the bank, a swarthy Indian 
 glided swiftly from a covert, and, running up to 
 them with his tomahawk raised in the air, ordered 
 them, in a peremptory manner, to give themselves 
 up. He was followed in a moment by three others, 
 and, as the girls were powerless to resist, they were 
 instantly secured, and hurried forward on the march 
 through the forest. 
 
 The fair captives now began to regret that they 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 
 
 had given their romantic disposition so full play. 
 They were kept on a constant run by the savages, 
 and repeatedly goaded by them with sharp sticks. 
 As they marched over rugged, rocky ground, their 
 shoes were soon worn from their feet, and the In- 
 dians, unmindful of their sufferings, neglected to 
 supply them with moccasins. First their dresses 
 and then their skirt? were torn from their bcdies as 
 they were hurried through the thick and thorny un- 
 derbrush; and their limbs and ankles finally streamed 
 with blood. They were not, however, sul jected to 
 any personal indignities, although ore of the sav- 
 ages, captivated by the charms of Miss Callaway, 
 soon commenced to address soothing words to that 
 young woman, promising her that, if she obeyed his 
 orders and bore the fatigues and sufferings of the 
 journey with patience, he would recompense her by 
 making her his squaw. 
 
 In spite of the discouragements of the march, and 
 the apprehensions which they felt for their future, 
 the captives still retained sufficient presence of mind 
 to enable them to lay plans of escape. They knew 
 that the Indians would be pursued, and, in order to 
 direct the pursuers in their course, they took occa- 
 sion, when unperceived, to break and bend the twigs 
 as they passed along. Miss Callaway, who, more 
 than either of her companions, wished the adventure 
 speedily at an end, availed herself of the tender 
 feeling entertained for her by her savage admirer to 
 retard the march ; for, two or three times she sue* 
 ceeded in inducing him to permit her to rest, and, 
 
434 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 although he beat her and cursed her for her laziness, 
 she affected to be much exhausted, and lagged be- 
 hind. About ten o'clock at night the Indians made 
 a halt, built a fire, and prepared to rest. Nothing 
 occurred during the night to -alarm th'e savages or 
 to encourage the despairing prisoners; and with the 
 dawn of the next day the march was resumed. 
 
 In the meantime the young women had been 
 missed; and Smith, conjecturing that they had been 
 captur*ed, quickly organized a company to start in 
 pursuit. The men scattered in all directions, search- 
 ing for traces of the wanderers. Smith, with two 
 trusty comrades, at once sought the river, and, ex- 
 amining the soft mud and sand on the bank for foot- 
 prints, soon discovered the impressions of small shoes, 
 made, evidently, by the feet of women. Following 
 the tracks, he came to the place where the canoe 
 had been launched, and, as the marks of the boat 
 remained distinctly impressed on the sand, he was 
 not slow in concluding that he should have to search 
 for further traces of the girls on the opposite side. 
 He immediately plunged into the stream, and, fol- 
 lowed by his two companions, swam across. A short 
 distance below he again found the foot-prints of the 
 three fair adventurers, with the deep impressions 
 made by the four moccasined savages ; and, at once 
 conjecturing that the girls had been led into captivity, 
 he pressed forward with an ardor which soon placed 
 him well on his way. 
 
 As Smith was familiar with every part of the sur- 
 rounding country he was enabled, after once ascer- 
 
A BDKFALO HUNT. 
 
REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 437 
 
 taining the general direction taken by the savages, 
 to follow the trail with unerring sagacity. Instead 
 of traveling directly in the steps of the Indians, he 
 often gained on them by avoiding the difficult paths 
 which they had chosen, and steering courses ahead 
 for points which he knew would lie in their line of 
 march. Finally, toward evening of the second day, 
 while following a small stream, he discovered the 
 water newiy thrown upon the rocks, and, ordering 
 his men to proceed with the utmost caution, crept 
 forward on hands and knees until he heard, imme- 
 diately in front of him, the tread of soft footsteps. 
 He now stood still and waited for the party to get 
 far enough in the advance for him to follow without 
 danger of discovery, and then resumed the pursuit. 
 
 Shortly after dark he saw the sudden glimmer of 
 a fire, and he concluded that the savages had halted 
 with their prisoners for the night. Although burn- 
 ing with impatience and anxiety, he prudently de- 
 termined to delay the attack; for he knew that the 
 Indians would be on the alert until later in the even- 
 ing, and that, in all probability, they would disperse 
 to hunt for game. He accordingly concealed him- 
 self with his comrades. In about half an hour he 
 heard the report of two rifles, close at hand, and, 
 a few moments later, two savages, staggering under 
 the weight of a deer, passed the place where he lay, 
 and disappeared in the direction of the camp. 
 
 When at last all was ripe for action, Smith emerged 
 from his hiding-place, and, with noiseless steps, crept 
 *;ward the fire. Arriving at the place, he discovered 
 
43 8 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 the girls sitting on the ground with their four captors. 
 Whispering his instructions to his companions, he 
 fired, and one of the Indians fell dead. He then 
 rushed -forward to attack the other three, who, see- 
 ing that he was alone, at once fell into the trap that 
 he had set, and, instead of flying, sprang to their feet 
 and warily advanced to close around him. They thus 
 presented the whole of their bodies to the aim of 
 Smith's companions, who quickly fired, both with 
 fatal effect. Smith then closed with the fourth sav- 
 age, and, after a brief struggle, overpowered him 
 and laid him lifeless on the ground. The three 
 girls, thus happily rescued, were not slow in giving 
 expression to their gratitude ; and Smith returned to 
 the garrison, where, as we are told, "his gallantry 
 was repaid by the sweetest of all rewards." 
 
INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 
 
 the Indian character was not at all times 
 1 irreclaimably bad, but that humanity often pre- 
 vailed over barbarism, and disinterested generosity 
 over vindictive cruelty, is a fact whose truth has 
 been too frequently attested to bear serious doubt. 
 The following story of the renowned chief Logan, 
 who is universally allowed to have been the highest 
 type of the North American Indian, and who, ac- 
 cording to the testimony of all who had the good 
 fortune to encounter him, combined many of the 
 essentials of true greatness, is from the pen of Rev. 
 John A. McClung, one of the most reliable and 
 entertaining of Western historical and biographical 
 writers : 
 
 While hovering with his followers around the 
 skirts of a thick settlement, Logan suddenly came 
 in view of a small field, recently cleared, in which 
 three men were pulling flax. Causing the greater 
 part of his men to remain where they were, Logan, 
 together with two others, crept up within long shot 
 of the white men and fired. One man fell dead ; the 
 remaining two attempted to escape. The elder of 
 the fugitives (Hellew) was quickly overtaken and 
 made prisoner by Logan's associates ; while Logan 
 
 (439) 
 
44 TH E BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 himself, having thrown down his rifle, pressed for- 
 ward alone in pursuit of the younger of the white 
 men, whose name was Robinson. The contest was 
 keen for several hundred yards, but Robinson, un- 
 luckily looking around in order to have a view of 
 his pursuer, ran against a tree with such violence as 
 completely to stun him, and render him insensible 
 for several; minutes. 
 
 Upon recovering, he found himself bound and 
 lying upon his back, while Logan sat by his side, 
 with unmoved gravity, awaiting his recovery. He 
 was then compelled to accompany them in their 
 further attempts upon the settlements ; and in the 
 course of a few days was marched off, with great 
 rapidity, for their villages in Ohio. During the 
 march Logan remained silent and melancholy. The 
 prisoners, however, were treated kindly, until they 
 arrived at an Indian village upon the Muskingum. 
 When within a mile of the town, Logan became 
 more animated, and uttered the "scalp halloo" sev- 
 eral times, in the most terrible tones. The never- 
 failing scene of insult and torture then began. 
 Crowds flocked out to meet them, and a line was 
 formed for the gauntlet. 
 
 Logan took no share in the cruel game, but did 
 not attempt to repress it. He, however, gave Rob- 
 inson, whom he regarded as his own prisoner, some 
 directions as to the best means of reaching the 
 council-house in safety, and displayed some anxiety 
 for his safe arrival ; while poor Hellew was left in 
 total ignorance, and permitted to struggle forward 
 
INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 441 
 
 as he best could. Robinson, under the patronage 
 of Logan, escaped with a few slight bruises; but 
 Hellew, not knowing where to run, was dreadfully 
 mangled, and would probably have been killed upon 
 the spot had not Robinson (not without great risk on 
 his own part) seized him by the hand and dragged 
 him into the council-house. 
 
 On the following morning a council was called, 
 in order to determine their fate, in which Logan 
 held a conspicuous superiority over all who were 
 assembled. Hellew's destiny came first under discus- 
 sion, and was quickly decided by an almost unani- 
 mous vote of adoption. Robinson's was most difficult 
 to determine. A majority of the council (partly in- 
 fluenced by a natural thirst for vengeance upon at 
 least one object, partly, perhaps, by a lurking jeal- 
 ousy of the imposing superiority of Logan's char- 
 acter) were obstinately bent upon putting him to 
 death. Logan spoke for nearly an hour upon the 
 question; and, if Robinson is to be believed, with 
 an energy, copiousness, and dignity which would 
 not have disgraced Henry himself. He appeared 
 at no loss for either words or ideas; his tones 
 were deep and musical, and were heard by the as- 
 sembly with the silence of death. All, however, was 
 vain. Robinson was condemned, and, within an hour 
 afterward, was fastened to the stake. Logan stood 
 apart from the crowd with his arms folded, and his 
 eyes fixed upon the scene with an air of stern dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 When the fire was about to be applied, he sud- 
 
442 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 denly strode into the circle, pushing aside those who 
 stood in the way, and, advancing straight up to- the 
 stake, cut the cords with his tomahawk, and, taking 
 the prisoner by the hand, led him, with a determined 
 air, to his own wigwam. The action was so totally 
 unexpected, and the air of the chief so determined, 
 that he had reached the door of his wigwam before 
 any one ventured to interfere. Much dissatisfaction 
 was then expressed, -and threatening symptoms of 
 a tumult appeared; but so deeply rooted was his 
 authority, that in a few hours all was quiet, and 
 Robinson, without opposition, was permitted to en- 
 ter an Indian family. He remained with Logan until 
 the treaty of Fort Pitt, in the autumn of the ensu- 
 ing year, when he returned to Virginia. He ever 
 retained the most unbounded admiration for Logan, 
 and repeatedly declared that his countenance, when 
 speaking, was the most striking, varied, and impress- 
 ive that he ever beheld. And when it is recollected 
 that he had often heard Lee and Henry, in all their 
 glory, the compliment must be regarded as a very 
 high one. 
 
 ANOTHER instance of savage generosity is related 
 by the same writer. A party of Indians had taken 
 two or three white men prisoners. One of the cap- 
 tives, named JOHNSTON, was very handsomely dressed 
 in a broadcloth surtout, red vest, fine ruffled shirt, 
 and a pair of new boots. 
 
 "The Indians began to eye him attentively, and at 
 length one of them, whose name he afterward learned 
 
INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 443 
 
 was Chickatommo, a Shawnee chief, came up to him 
 and gave the skirt of his coat two or three hard pulls, 
 accompanied by several gestures which were not to 
 be mistaken. Johnston instantly stripped off his coat 
 and very politely handed it to him. His red waist- 
 coat was now exposed to full view, and attracted great 
 attention. Chickatommo instantly exclaimed, ' Hugh ! 
 you big cappatain ! ' Johnston hastily assured him that 
 he was mistaken ; that he was no officer, nor had any 
 connection with military affairs whatever. The Indian 
 then drew himself up, pointed with his ringer to his 
 breast, and exclaimed, ' Me cappatain ! all dese ' 
 pointing to his men ' my sogers ! ' The red waist- 
 coat accompanied the surtout, and Johnston quickly 
 stood shivering in his shirt and pantaloons. 
 
 "An old Indian then came up to him, and, placing 
 one hand upon his own shirt (a greasy, filthy garment, 
 which had not, probably, been washed for six months), 
 and the other upon Johnston's ruffles, cried out in En- 
 glish, ' Swap ! swap ! ' at the same time giving the 
 'ruffles a gentle pull with his dirty fingers. Johnston, 
 conquering his disgust at the proposal, was about to 
 comply, and had drawn his shirt over his head, when 
 it was violently pulled back by another Indian, whose 
 name he afterward learned was Tom Lewis. His 
 new ally then reproached the other Indian severely 
 for wishing to take the shirt from a prisoner's back in 
 such cold weather, and instantly afterward threw his 
 own blanket over Johnston's shoulders. The action 
 was accompanied by a look so full of compassion and 
 kindness, that Johnston, who had expected far differ- 
 
444 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 ent treatment, was perfectly astonished. He now 
 saw that native kindness of heart and generosity of 
 feeling was by no means rare, even among savages." 
 
 A MOST remarkable and affecting story, illustrative 
 of the nobler traits in the savage character, is told by 
 Mrs. Kinzie in "Wau Bun, The "Early Day in the 
 North-west." It is thus related by the author of 
 "Pioneers in the Settlement of America:" 
 
 In 1779 MR. LYTLE, an emigrant from Eastern Penn- 
 sylvania, was living with his family, composed of his 
 wife and children, on the banks of Plum River, a 
 tributary of the Alleghany, some miles from Fort 
 Pitt. They were occasionally visited by some of the 
 friendly Delawares; but for some time there had 
 been no incursion of hostile Indians in that region, 
 and the settlers had become less fearful of such at- 
 tacks, and consequently less cautious. One after- 
 noon, in the autumn of the year above named, while 
 Mr. Lytle was assisting a neighbor at a house-raising 
 some miles away, his two eldest children, a girl of 
 nine and a boy two years younger, while playing- in 
 a little dell near their dwelling were taken prisoners 
 by some hostile savages, who stealthily approached 
 them from behind, and seized them as their attention 
 was attracted in another direction. Terrified into 
 silence by the threatening signs of the Indians, they 
 were hurried away ; but grief at being torn from their 
 home and parents, and dread of the cruelties prac- 
 ticed on their captives by the savages, with the tales 
 
INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 445 
 
 of which their ears were familiar, exceeded their ter- 
 ror, and they could not restrain their tears and sobs. 
 Their distress touched the heart of the chief of the 
 party, a man of mild aspect for an Indian, who 
 endeavored to soothe them, and, when the savages 
 encamped for the night, prepared a couch of long 
 grass, and gave them a portion of his own meat and 
 parched corn. 
 
 Before the party lay down to sleep, another band 
 of Indians arrived, bringing with them the children's 
 mother with her infant three months old. What had 
 become of the other two children, who had also been 
 at play near the house, none of the captives knew, 
 and the mother could only hope that they had es- 
 caped, while she suppressed her own grief to com- 
 fort the little prisoners. 
 
 In the morning the Indians resumed their march, 
 and then was repeated the old story of savage atroc- 
 ity toward helpless infants. One of the party offer- 
 ed to relieve the mother by carrying her infant, and, 
 unsuspicious of treachery, she gratefully accepted the 
 offer. The Indian lingered behind, and, after a time, 
 re-appeared without the child, whom the mother 
 never saw again. She then knew too well what had 
 been its probable fate ; but she dared not question or 
 murmur, but, with a stricken heart and silent prayers, 
 traveled on with her surviving children. The chief 
 continued to treat the captives with kindness; and 
 when, after a weary journey for many days the party 
 arrived at their village, he conducted them to the 
 cabin of his mother, the widow of a great chief of the 
 
446 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 tribe, and, commending them all to her care, pre- 
 sented to her the little girl, whom he had from the 
 first regarded with great tenderness, saying he had 
 brought her to be his sister, and to supply the place 
 of a brother who had been killed by the Delawares. 
 Thus was the little girl adopted into the family of her 
 captor; and while Mrs. Lytle and her boy were held 
 for ransom, she was to remain as his sister, and be 
 regarded as the daughter of a great chief. 
 
 When Mr. Lytle returned from the house-raising 
 in the evening, he found his house silent and his 
 family gone. It was but too evident that the Indians 
 had been there; and whether his wife and children 
 had been murdered or carried away was a matter of 
 agonizing doubt. With the aid of his neighbors and 
 none were very near he began a search, but found 
 no trace of his lost ones, and could only hope that 
 they were still alive and held as captives. In the 
 morning he started for Fort Pitt to obtain aid from 
 the commandant in pursuing the marauders. On the 
 way, as he passed, he descried his two youngest 
 children on a bank by the wayside. Grateful for the 
 safety of these little ones, he eagerly questioned 
 them as to the fate of their mother and the other 
 children; but they could give no information, except 
 to confirm the supposition that their home had been 
 visited by Indians. The story of their escape was 
 soon told. 
 
 They were playing in a field near the house, when 
 they saw the Indians, who probably did not observe 
 them, and in alarm they crept into an adjoining 
 
INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 447 
 
 clearing which was overgrown with blackberry-bushes, 
 where they hid themselves for a long time. They 
 then traversed this thicket of briers with great suffer- 
 ing to their limbs and feet, away from the house 
 where they knew the danger lay. Fearing that they 
 would be taken, and impressed by the familiar tales 
 of Indian cruelties, the elder of the two a little boy 
 of six years proposed to his sister, two years younger, 
 that he should kill her, as he could do it "so much 
 easier" than the Indians; and, nothwithstanding her 
 sobs, for a time persisted that he must do it to save 
 her from suffering. This idea, however, passed away 
 without an attempt to put it into action ; and travel- 
 ing on, not knowing where they were, they at last 
 followed some cattle to the house near which they 
 were found. There was no one there to welcome 
 them, and they crept under some rubbish at the back 
 of the house, where, weary with their long toil, they 
 slept. They had come forth from their hiding-place, 
 but were uncertain which way to turn their steps, 
 when they were discovered by their father. 
 
 With a detachment of soldiers from Fort Pitt Mr. 
 Lytle proceeded in search of the other members of 
 his family, and having reason to suspect the Senecas, 
 he went to one of their villages, where he found his 
 wife and two eldest children. He met with little diffi- 
 culty in ransoming his wife and the little boy; but 
 neither promises of liberal presents nor entreaties 
 could obtain the release of the little girl, who was the 
 adopted child of the tribe. Finding all their efforts 
 in vain, with sad hearts the parents were obliged to 
 
448 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 depart with their one child, leaving their first-born in 
 the hands of the savages. Their grief was partially 
 relieved, however, by the evident kindness with which 
 she was treated, and they could only hope that a 
 future effort might be more successful. 
 
 Having placed his family in safety at Fort Pitt, 
 Mr. Lytle next sought the aid of Colonel Johnson, 
 the British agent at Niagara, who had great influence 
 with the savages. Colonel Johnson was a man of 
 benevolent disposition, and, having heard the story, 
 he went himself to the Indian village to procure the 
 little girl's release. But the chief was inexorable; 
 no offer of guns and horses could induce him to part 
 with "his sister." 
 
 The little captive, who had inspired so much affec- 
 tion in the savage chief, continued to be treated with 
 great kindness by him and the "old queen," his 
 mother. She was supplied with their choicest food, 
 adorned with their brightest ornaments, and rested 
 on their softest couch of skins. This kindness won 
 her from her home-sickness, and secured from her 
 affectionate heart a return of love, and she became 
 strongly attached to the chief, whom she learned to 
 call her brother. She was treated with like consider- 
 ation by the other members of the tribe, with one 
 exception ; the wife of the chief regarded her with a 
 bitter and unreasonable jealousy, and lost no oppor- 
 tunity to manifest her hatred. She would have re- 
 moved the object of her jealousy by violence, had 
 she dared, and she watched with native treachery 
 for a chance to use a more subtile method of re* 
 
INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 449 
 
 venge. Such an opportunity was offered by the 
 sickness of the young captive with an attack of fever 
 and ague. The treacherous squaw, changing her 
 demeanor, became very kind in her attentions to the 
 sick child ; and one day, during the absence of the old 
 queen, she brought a bowl containing a drink which 
 she offered the patient, and urged her to swallow it, 
 saying it would cure the disease. But a young In- 
 dian, who had seen the malignant squaw digging 
 poisonous herbs in the morning, made signals through 
 a crevice of the cabin which put the little girl on her 
 guard, and she bade the woman to set it down for 
 her to drink when she came out of the fever turn 
 which was then upon her. When the woman at last 
 retired, the young savage told the story, and the 
 bowl, being delivered to the old queen, was found to 
 contain a decoction of the most poisonous herbs 
 known to Indian pharmacy. The other Indians were 
 greatly enraged at this treacherous attempt on the 
 life of their young favorite, and the would-be mur- 
 deress was banished from her husband's lodge, and 
 ^condemned to hoe corn in the farthest corner of the 
 plantation. 
 
 Four years passed, and the little captive had be- 
 come contented with her savage life, and happy in 
 the unusual kindness and love of the chief and his 
 mother, while her parents were ever longing for the 
 return of their lost one. After the treaty of peace 
 between Great Britain and the United States, Mr. 
 Lytle determined to make another effort to recover 
 his daughter, and went with his wife to Niagara, that, 
 
45O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 
 
 with the aid of Colonel Johnson, he might spare 
 neither time nor labor to rescue her. Colonel John- 
 son readily lent his assistance, and went to the 
 Seneca village for the purpose of negotiating for the 
 release of the young captive. It was the time of 
 " the feast of green-corn." The Indians were in peace- 
 ful and pleasant mood, and Colonel Johnson, with 
 great tact and earnestness, unfolded his errand. But 
 the chief was unwilling to listen to the proposal to 
 give up the "sister" who was so dear to him, and 
 who was so attached to him. When, however, the 
 kind-hearted agent told him of the mother's love 
 which had brought her so many miles that she might 
 at least once more see her child, he relented, and 
 promised to bring the captive to the great council 
 which was soon to be held at Niagara, that the 
 mother might look upon her; but at the same time 
 he stipulated that no attempt should be made to take 
 her aflray from him. 
 
 Cheered by this promise, that they should once 
 more see their beloved child, but scarcely hoping 
 that they would be able to retain her, the parents 
 anxiously awaited the assembling of the grand coun- 
 cil. On the appointed day the ladies of the garrison, 
 who had become deeply interested in the affair, ac- 
 companied Mrs. Lytle to the banks of the river to 
 watch the arrival of the various bands of Indians as 
 they reached the opposite shore, and were ferried 
 across on their way to the council. At last they saw 
 a mounted party arrive, with the leader of which rode 
 a child, who, though dressed in the Indian fashion, 
 
FRANKS INDIAN FRIEND. 
 
INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 453 
 
 and ornamented with strings of wampum about her 
 neck, was recognized as the little captive. Declining 
 the offer to have his horses ferried across the river, 
 the chief entered a boat with his young companion, 
 whom he evidently treated with great tenderness, and 
 was rowed across. Having landed, they advanced 
 toward the group of ladies and officers who were 
 anxiously awaiting them, the little girl clinging to 
 the hand of her protector till she recognized her 
 mother; then, with a cry of delight, she ran forward 
 and threw herself into the arms of the one whose 
 early love she had never forgotten, and who, in her 
 deep emotion, had fallen on her knees in front of the 
 group. The scene was deeply affecting to the by- 
 standers ; and the chief, gazing a r e*v ~noments at 
 this display of mutual affection, witn a noble gener- 
 osity, unusual in. an Indian, said: "The mother shall 
 have her child. I will go back alone." He immedi- 
 ately returned to the boat, regardless of all invita- 
 tions to attend the council ; and, having crossed to the 
 opposite shore, the whole party was seen to mount 
 and ride away into the woods. 
 
 The little captive was thus restored to her parents, 
 and the associations of early years were soon revived. 
 She never saw her Indian brother again. Her father, 
 fearing that the chief might repent of his generosity, 
 and attempt to recover his protege, went West, and 
 settled at Detroit. Among the many cruel deeds of 
 the Indians, natural to their savage state, and often 
 provoked by their wrongs, the noble conduct of this 
 chief may well be recorded. 
 
GENERAL MILES MODERN INDIAN FIGHTER.